Willmartin - It Takes Two Hands to Handle a Whopper
This one's a bit long but I'm sure you'll forgive me. =)
This pregnancy came after three years of infertility, tests, investigations and one very, very fortuitous IVF cycle. In spite of all the problems I had encountered actually getting pregnant, the pregnancy itself was absolutely text book and we were both in excellent health throughout. I was very happy with this considering I was 37 at the time of conception and turned 38 one month before the due date.
Willmartin showed all the signs of being absolutely on target for gestational age at every ultrasound or examination. In January, he turned himself upside down and stayed in that position. In February, I began experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions and feeling intense pressure in my pelvis. By the first week of March, his head had fully engaged and he seemed ready to come out. I had finished work by then and tried to prepare myself for what I thought would be an early vaginal delivery as everything seemed to be pointing that way.
Just shows how wrong you can be. =)
His due date came and went and still no sign of Willmartin. I was in increasing discomfort as the days went by and was experiencing nightly Braxton Hicks contractions that felt like they were leading somewhere but which were, annoyingly, gone by morning. I had discussed birth options with my obstetrician, indicating to him that I was happy to go over dates rather than be induced as I believed the labour would progress more smoothly. He agreed with me and said he was happy for that to occur so long as we both remained in good health.
All examinations showed the baby was still in great health and had plenty of amniotic fluid. His heartrate was also good. The only problem was me ... I had not banked on feeling as uncomfortable as I did for as long and it was starting to feel like this pregnancy would never end. I decided to try to stick it out for as long as possible.
The weekend of the 41st week of pregnancy was particularly uncomfortable. Over that weekend, I did some reading about induction. As a result of this reading, I made a decision ... if my cervix was even remotely thinned/effaced at the 41 week appointment, I would go with induction as I felt it had a better chance of succeeding.
The exam showed, much to my dismay, that my cervix was completely closed and pulled up tight. I couldn't believe it. I was nearly in tears. There was so much pressure I was sure the birth must be close. At that point, I felt like my decision was made for me. I told the doctor what I'd read about inductions and said that I didn't feel as if I could wait any longer but given the situation with my cervix, I would rather have a caesarean than try to deliver naturally.
The doctor was a bit surprised because I think he had assumed that I was against caesareans which certainly wasn't the case. It was just that we hadn't discussed them because it didn't seem like I would be needing one. He said that yes it was major surgery but on the plus side, my recovery from an elective caesar was likely to be quicker than one resulting from a failed induction, which, considering the state of my cervix seemed a likely outcome.
I said, okay, let's do it. He took me into the office where I filled out my admissions paperwork. He and his midwife were very kind as they could obviously see that I was in a bit of a shocked state at this point. They said they would try to arrange admission for the next day or the day after and would ring me as soon as a theatre booking had been arranged.
I left the office and rang my husband to tell him. I got halfway down the hall before bursting into tears but then I pulled myself up short. I had been very lucky so far and this was not the end of the world. Very soon I would have my son in my arms and wasn't this the moment I had waited so long for? I had to get a grip. In many ways, this moment reminded me of what I had been through just over nine months earlier when I had to make the decision to euthanase my beloved cat. The most agonising part of anything comes before the decision but once the choice is made, you can accept it and get on with things. Once I'd left the hospital, I felt much calmer and almost couldn't believe how I'd reacted.
The midwife rang back 15 minutes later and said I was booked in for tomorrow, 12 April at 6.00am. I remember thinking after I hung up from her "This time tomorrow, it will all be over". I felt much calmer.
We were at Freemasons very early the next morning. I was prepared for surgery while my husband was taken away and gowned up. The atmosphere in the theatre was relaxed and the staff were so kind and reassuring I experienced no fear whatsoever. I walked into theatre myself and sat on the table while the anaesthetist put in the spinal block. While this was happening, Willmartin was wriggling around, using my organs as punching bags and just generally preparing for another day in paradise. I turned to the nurse and said "He's jumping around in there and he has absolutely no idea about what's about to happen".
After this, everything moved very quickly. The loss of sensation moved fairly rapidly, making me feel as if my body were composed of cottonwool. I could feel people doing things to me but there was no pain. It was extraordinary.
My husband appeared again, looking like an extra in "ER". My obstetrician and his assistant put up the screen and started work. I realised that one of the theatre nurses was the same one who had been present at every single procedure I had had at Freemasons while undergoing infertility treatment and IVF, including the ovum pickup for the cycle which produced Willmartin. She remembered me and said "Oh, it's so good to see another IVF patient with a happy story". She and my husband talked to me and held my hands and within a very short space of time, I heard the doctor say "Get that camera ready because here he comes".
Suddenly, I heard a lusty cry and the doctor lifted my baby free, holding him up above the screen, "Where have you been hiding him all this time?" he said, "He's a big boy!"
I was so relieved and elated. He was indeed a whopper, weighing it at 9lbs 50zs. Everything was in place. Everything was perfect. I was so happy and pleased that all those terrible years of trying and failing were finally over.
I was stitched up and taken out to recovery whereupon the heavy drugs kicked in and I started to feel very tired and out of it. Photos taken of me that day show that I was not the serene Madonna like figure I had fancied myself to be unless there was ever a depiction of her, lolling back on her hospital trolley, partially clothed with eyelids at half mast.
The time in hospital was a blur of broken sleep, trying to feed, learning to settle and recovering from the operation. We have been home now for almost a week and the learning process continues but one thing that amazes me is the connection that I have with my son. Experienced mothers would know this but it still surprised me. He knew my voice and I could calm him by just holding him against my chest. It was thrilling and amazing to see the bond we already had which will only deepen with time. I look forward to knowing my son better and seeing what kind of person he will become.
His birth was the greatest moment of my life and I feel truly blessed to have been so lucky.
