Cian was due on Wednesday 6th January 2010 according to my 12 week scan, people we worked with were expecting him to be born on either Christmas Day or New Year's Eve, however I predicted him to be born late (knowing my luck he'd be induced) and on the day with the worst weather imaginable.
The night of Thursday 7th January I slept badly, because I felt like something had changed and I expected something to happen, of course nothing did and during Friday everything felt normal. However, on Friday night (8th January) hubby and I were sat watching 'The Simpsons' and discussing getting a curry for tea (to encourage labour) when my waters broke with a 'pop', my reaction was “ooh, either my waters have just broken or I've wet myself!” Chris then began giggling as I was busy going 'ewwwwww' as I felt like I'd sat on a water balloon. After sorting myself out, ringing the hospital who wanted to see me and showering and changing. So at half past 7 we put my hospital bags in the car and set off very slowly as the roads were quite icy. Up until then I hadn't had any really noticable contractions, but they began to appear and were quite regular coming every 15 minutes.
Once at the hospital, I was assessed and had my contractions and fetal heartrate monitored for half an hour and was then given the option of staying in hospital on a ward or going home and coming back when my contractions had increased. I opted to go home as I wanted my own space so at 9pm we set off back home, Chris driving whilst I rang both our parents to let them know that he was on his way.
At home I tried to watch TV and have a bit of sleep, this was easier said than done. My contractions had began to come harder and I couldn't get comfortable unless I was sat on the toilet. By 11pm I wanted some pain relief, I rang the hospital and they told me to take paracetamol or go back in to the ward. So I fought the pain and took 2 paracetamol (absolutely useless), I then decided around midnight that a shower might help (as we don't have a bath). The shower was quite good as I was able to direct the warm water to wherever I hurt, however after being in there an hour I was worried about wasting water (LOL) so it was back to sitting on the toilet. By 2 am I'd had enough and needed extreme pain relief (“I want drugs, lots of lovely drugs!”) so shouted for Chris to come and help me, he ignored me (he was hard and fast asleep) so I carried on. At half past 2 I again shouted for Chris, got a response, but he failed to appear, so yet again I was left. Finally, at just before 3 I woke him up and we rang the hospital before heading back in.
My contractions were every 4 minutes whilst I was in the car and we passed 5 police cars, one of which was attending an accident where a taxi had presumably slid on ice and nearly gone into a reservoir. On arriving I had an internal exam where I was told I was 3cm dilated though my cervix was still facing back. I was then placed in a delivery room where I was given a diamorphine injection and entonox. Chris settled on the sofa and promptly fell asleep (typical man!). I chatted away with the midwife, who stayed with me virtually the whole time, being told I'd packed light made me laugh as I had a small suitcase, his change bag and a tolietry bag. At 5am I had my diamorphine topped up, though the effect was not as noticable as the first dose. By 7am I am convinced that the only pain relief that was useful was the entonox.
The midwife had found traces of ketones and protein in my urine at around 6 and so I was given toast to try to see if that would solve the problem. My labour progressed well by 8am I had dilated to 5cm and everything was going well, Chris was dropping in and out of sleep on the sofa, I occasionally dropped off between contractions, some of which were harder than others. I also decided finally by this point that I may as well put a nighty on so that I wouldn't need to change later. The second midwife also arrived at 8am as shift change occurred and she stayed with me right up until birth. I struggled to go to the toilet, I thought the contractions were making me pee into my pad, which frustrated me as I kept being asked for a urine sample.
At 1 they predicted that I'd have had him within the next couple of hours as everything had been going so well and the midwife said that I should be able to go home around 9pm, an estimated 6 hours after delivery. Chris gave me a back rub which felt great but whenever he stopped I could feel the tension come back, I'd also begun to moo like a cow down the entonox tube :-). At 2pm, I was 9.5cm dilated and told to begin pushing, by this point it felt right to push and my contractions were having me grip onto the bed frame, husband, ect. They must have suspected something as a second midwife also checked me and they said to see what stage I was at in an hour. I really did feel like I was about to poo on the bed by this point, which was a really odd and embarassing sensation. I couldn't stand to be touched by now and just wanted space which I think quite upset Chris as he really couldn't do anything. They inserted a catheter to get the urine they desperately (!) wanted which as much as I didn't want it, if it sped up the process I was all for it. They also put me on a monitor to keep a check on his heart rate and the contractions.
At 3 they checked me again and there had been no change I was still at 9.5cm dilated and stuck. They questioned a doctor who came in and checked me and told me that I needed to push as hard as I could with the next contraction (like I hadn't been for the last hour!). They also decided to insert another catheter to see if my bladder was full and thus stopping this last bit of dilation. Once they'd removed that they were back commanding me to push. So I pushed as hard as I could and managed to reach the magic 10cm dilation only to find that a lip of my cervix had slipped back and I was back at 9.5cm so I was told “no you need to push harder”, by this point I was knackered and feeling fed up, I just wanted it to be over and cuddling my little boy, so I rather wanted to kick the doctor in the head. So I tried as hard as I could but there was no way I could do any more. I remember (and my husband lovingly keeps reminding me) that I said “I want to go home!”. The doctor annnounced that there was only two options, as my contractions had become irregular and weaker, option 1 was to give me drugs to try and make the contractions more frequent and stronger or a c-section. For option 1 he needed to make sure baby way ok and so wanted to try to get a blood sample from the baby's head, something which terrified me and a proceedure which wasn't really explained. I had to lay on my side and the doctor repeatedly attempted to get the sample and I was getting scared by this point that he wasn't ok. This proceedure was highly uncomfortable and the doctor found that the baby was not facing my back but was rather sidewards, the doctor managed to try to get a sample from his shoulder. It was then decided that it would have to be an emergency c-section due to fetal compromise. I felt like a failure because I hadn't been able to give birth to him naturally.
The room went from being quiet and serene to being filled with 7 medical personel, I was asked to sign a consent form saying I was aware of the risks involved in the operation (did I have a choice?). A needle was placed into my hand and I was asked to undress and then put into a gown, Chris was asked if he wanted to come in and told where to change into scrubs. He later said that this was one of the scariest moments of his life. I was transferred onto a theatre bed and then quickly wheeled into the operating room. I had to sit on the edge of the bed whilst they gave me an epidural and then laid back down and a screen put over my chest so I couldn't see anything. They poked at my stomach with what I assume was a scalpel, I could feel it but it didn't feel sharp, anyway they tilted the table to get the epidural to go higher up my body and after a few minutes they were cutting into me. I could only feel pulling which the anesthetist had warned me about. Feeling slightly better, I remember asking the surgeon to do a bit of lipo whilst he was playing around in there :-), I can't remember his response though. At 4:13pm Cian was born, weighing 7lb 6oz and measuring 51cm and I could see Chris being torn between going to him and staying with me. I told him to go and I watched from the table as he saw his little boy for the first time.
Chris came back over and said should we call him Ian, because he's a blockhead (as in Ian Dury and the Blockheads) I was adament that there was no way I was calling him that, however I said Cian as it was a name I'd been toying with and had decided I quite liked, plus it wasn't a million miles from Ian. Chris left with Cian and the midwife and after being sewn back together I was taken to recovery and given Cian for skin to skin contact and to breastfeed.
Later I went to a ward where I was given a private room to recover and Chris was allowed to stay with us until 8 which was great as it meant that we could be together and someone could cuddle Cian as I couldn't move. Chris wanted to get me food but I wasn't allowed due to the surgery. He phoned everyone and took lots of photos before leaving and taking the photos to show our parents.
I stayed in hospital until Monday afternoon and then brought Cian home in the snow.
If anyone has questions I'll answer them as best as I can.
Here are the handy hints, despite packing light I barely used half the stuff I packed. The must haves though were:
- cooling water spray (this was fantastic and the midwife thought it was great)
massage bar
nighty
yoga trousers
loose comfy top
pjs
dark knickers
maternity towels
a dark towel
dressing gown
bathroom bits
clothes for baby
nappies
blanket
mobile
camera
Pretty much anything else I could have done with out and that was with staying in.
Good luck to all those left in third tri :-).
Jan 30th, 2010, 09:31 AM
congrats on your little boy xx 
