The best laid plans...Sorry-this is LONG and late
Because a large part of our story has been provided by the Paramedics and medical professionals who were present thanks to what is now referred to as "Shari's Attempt at Denying Parts of This Ever Occurred By Blacking Out With Pain", this'll be long as I'm also using this to remember everything should Seth ever ask why Mummy breaks out in hives and wears a disguise whenever we go back to the Royal Women's. I'm thinking I probably owe them quite the donation at some point too.:doh:
When I joined BB at the start of my pg I was the picture of a Who magazine spread with a seemingly perfect life all-around. A few months later I found myself in Immigration and relationship nightmares but I was somehow surviving with the help of a great group of people both IRL and on here. Life wasn't ideal but I could still recognise that for a girl on the opposite end of Earth from her birthplace, I was pretty lucky and much better off than a lot of other people in the world. And most importantly I had a little boy inside of me that was depending on his Mummy to keep it together for both of us.
Other than the end result, this pg - my first - sucked smelly toes. All day/night sickness throughout, quarantined by Council because of Swine Flu, Emergency visits resulting in several people telling me different things at the same time...and I looked as pg as Kate Moss so no admiring glances or sympathy deeds for me. Tough I know.
Because of my crap hospital experiences past and present, I decided to have a home/water birth and had started to meet with midwives.
7.30am on 1/9- I was 32+6 along. I woke up and as I was walking to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee I buckled over with a cramp. It felt like a bad period pain- less severe than the ones I'd went to Emerg with a week before where Drs had told me it was due to my 'uterus stretching' although I kept asking if it possibly could've been early labour pains- but more painful than the gall bladder attacks I'd had a few years before. As they continued sporadically, I began to think I was severely constipated which I'd experienced for the first time a few days before, or an UTI as I kept putting my hands between my legs like toddlers do when they really need to go. I'd never had one, but it sure sounded like what I'd read lol.
Very quickly I was on my go-to pain relief position of dropping on all fours. I dragged myself to the bathroom, turned on the tap in the tub and tossed myself in only to find that the plug had done a runner into my dog's mouth. So I just sat there for a minute until I noticed a few drops of blood in the tub. I remember looking at my watch and it was now 9.30 and I thought that maybe I should start trying to time these pains so if I did have to eventually go to hospital I could definitely say they were far apart and not regular. Definitely not labour... I was blocked up from the Margherita pizza the night before or had to take a big pee that was just a little stubborn.
10am- I can only describe what happened next as some sort of weird out of body experience. I remember being in my front hallway, no idea how I got there, bum in the air and my dog kissing me because I was screaming and moaning, and looking down at myself and realising that I was actually breathing like I'd seen women in labour do on TV and in movies. It was then that I called an ambulance. Not sure if I just fluked upon the Oprah of the Victorian Ambo Service, but after listening to her instructions to take off my pants and underwear to make it easier in case I actually was going to have my baby in the Ambo and screaming everytime she 'wanted to chat', I hung up on her. Still kinda feel rudely about that one.
10.13- Ambulance came and according to their records it took 10 minutes to get me out of my house as I was insistent I had to go pee. Once they dragged me to
the stretcher, I remember refusing to lay down. It was all fours or nothing and I wanted drugs. They gave me some sort of whistle thing - it was green - and told me to suck. Instead I bit, and then threw as I'm convinced it was Panadol.
10.32-I was admitted to hospital with my bare derriere in the air like I just didn't care (and I didn't) and they took me to a birthing suite although my belly was 'too soft' to be in labour. Again I was begging to go pee so they let me crawl to the toilet but I still couldn't go. I remember screaming and still begging for drugs so they bribed me by saying if I came back to the bed they'd give me some. I eventually lived up to my end of the bargain by crawling back, blood dripping everywhere, and again insisted on assuming my favourite position. At this point the deal changed - I wonder if anyone in the room would've kept their promise if I had insisted we pinky swore before agreeing - and now I was told if I didn't turn onto my back they wouldn't give me any 'pain relief'. Lying jerks. I was asked if my water had broke and I said that if it had, I wasn't aware of it and I probably wouldn't be harping on about an UTI if so. No one seemed to like that answer but it was the truth.
11.09- I finally managed to turn over after telling one of the Midwives that once I finally went pee I was going to shove a burning metal rod up her hoohaa and time how quickly she moves when ordered to. I remember yelling at the female Paramedic (do they normally hang out in the room once they chauffeur you to the hospital?) to call my husband even though he had refused to acknowledge any communication about our son since he walked out 2 months before and my best friend/sister-in-law. Next thing I know, a hand is being shoved up me, I hear "Oh my - I feel a head" followed by someone else saying "you better check again as there's no sign of stomach tightening." At this point I not so kindly reminded the entire ward I'm sure of my missing 'pain relief', told them all to stuff it, managed to turn myself back on all fours despite several hands trying to keep me on my back, and announced I didn't appreciate people who make promises they don't keep and would like everyone to leave my room as they disgust me. Oh- I also announced that my husband was going to bash them all when he got there and I was suing them for torturing me by withholding painkillers. Suddenly I was given another implement to suck with the assurance that this would help with the pain. When I politely requested the big needle in the spine instead, I was advised that it was much too late for that as my son would be out any minute now. The substitute pain relief again ended up on the floor as I attempted to show what I thought of this latest turn of events, thus stiffing myself out of my last chance to get a little break from the horrific predicament I somehow found myself in. Boy it's wonderful to be a stubborn cow sometimes lol.
Throughout this, I was quietly pushing on my own, ignoring every instruction barked at me by people who had studied for several years to learn what to bark.All of a sudden I felt a searing pain, as if someone had set a match to an area that should never experience a lit flame. My mind flashed to BB and the tales of the 'burning ring of fire'. This translated to my singing Johnny Cash to myself and giggling like an absolute nutter when taking self-imposed breaks between pushing. I had one of those 70s porno pics from "Active Birth" in my head as well and I think that was probably the source of my amusement. Soon someone yelled that they could see the head, I remember someone else saying the profane version of 'shoot' and yelling that an isolette was needed immediately. I remember saying the alphabet backwards in my head and then singing 'Hush Little Baby" (which I'd always sang to my belly when I wanted the baby to relax on the breakdancing he insisted on doing at 2am) to try to block out all the extra voices that had arrived in my room. All I knew is that I didn't recognise any of them so they didn't matter to me at all. I rested longer this time, closed my eyes tightly and pushed as long and as hard as I could as I knew the burning meant I was almost done. I could hear people telling me to keep pushing when I just knew to stop so I again barked back to leave me alone, waited until I was ready and finally pushed my boy out at 11.36am. As I wasn't on my back I didn't see any of his arrival but as I was turning over, I caught a glimpse of dark hair as they were placing him in the isolette.
My best friend is recorded as entering the room one minute later. It turns out she had coincidentally called in sick to work that morning and when she got the call 20 minutes before the birth, sped like a demon to get there in time. Which she did - but no one could find my room so she was literally 10 metres away while Seth was born. I don't really remember her being there at first but she said that right after she came in I was jabbed with a needle, nearly almost broke SIL's hand and delivered the placenta, almost causing her to spew. I found out a few days ago that during this time, I twice got busted trying to text 2 of my favourite ladies on BB to post my BA as I hadn't sorted out a Post-It Girl.
I started shaking so badly afterwards that SIL interrupted the Drs to point this out but apparently this was normal. She also thought to get them to pause so I could see him and she could take a photo as they were wheeling him to NICU. Daddy and paternal Nan arrived about 10 minutes after that and I requested my discharge then, knowing I'd be with Seth in NICU for the 6 hour mandatory waiting period anyway.
This was for 3 reasons: I didn't tear and was only given prescriptions for Ibuprofen and Vitamin K after the birth, I'd received a bill for the hospital stay a month earlier for $1700 just for the bed-no food, meds, services, etc (no Medicare) and figured even armed guards wouldn't force me to stay there if my baby was on another floor and thirdly I wouldn't rest as I'd rather be with him. Sadly, this decision to discharge myself caused my parenting ability to be questioned a few days later until authorities heard my reasons why.
Seth was 29 cm long, 1.34kg with Apgar's of 3,5 and then 7 within the first 10 minutes of being born. Life was spent in NICU for 3 days and now he currently lives in Special Care in a warming cot after being moved from the isolette on Sunday. My boy is a breastfeeding champ for someone whose 3 hourly feeds measure just over a tablespoon at a time and weighs 1.572kg with his next weigh-in tonight.
There's so much more I could say but mainly I want to say thank you to those lovely ladies on here who have helped this girl stay sane and feel loved. I've grown up so much throughout this experience: meeting parents whose babies who will never go home, those whose babies who will need intensive therapy for years and those babies who were abandoned. Yes, I showed up at hospital with no bag packed and a bare arse but I needed neither pants nor 'stuff'. In fact I actually realise now how many 'essential' things count for nothing at all. The only thing I needed was to be strong and fight for Seth -no amount of planning and acquiring for my formerly anal self mattered one bit.
Thank you for sharing in our story so far-
Shari and Seth xo
