OMG I HAD A BABY

I was a relatively young Mum at the age of 22 when I had my youngest. Although I had (what I thought) was lots of experience from working in nurseries, I really didn’t have any idea what I was letting myself in for!

I had always longed to be a Mum and I’m a typical pre planner so I researched all I needed to know on how to get pregnant quickly. After the first couple of weeks of trying, I knew I couldn’t keep up the pace!! There was no way my lady garden could continue with the unprecedented amount of use needed to achieve the goal. I hastily ordered some ovulation stick (much to Kev’s dismay) and discovered I really only needed to do the deed a couple of times a month at most- fantastic! After only a couple of months of trying (sorry Kev!) I fell pregnant. My pregnancy wasn’t too difficult in reality but I was NOT one of these naturally beautiful pregnant women. First off, my bump was larger than average but I spent the first 4 months looking like I had a very large and unflattering front bum. I didn’t have any of those cute little month by month photos of my growing baby bump but instead I was researching pregnancy control pants to try and create a more flattering shape. We had decided not to find out the sex as it was our first baby so we embarked on the lovely but slightly annoying task of buying everything in neutral (basically boring) colours.

As the months went on I did find some enjoyment in being pregnant. I took the phrase ‘eating for two’ incredibly literally and lived mainly off entire tubs of ice cream for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Kev was on standby whenever the ice cream stock was running low to refill my stash before I threw what can only be described as a full toddler tantrum about how ice cream was the only thing getting me through life.

The little alien movements the baby made were cute (until I discovered the downward kicks that made it feel like I was being volleyed in the vagina) and boy did no one warn me about the Braxton hicks that regularly made me pee myself.

As my due date came and went I remember thinking I was definitely going to be pregnant forever, I remember begging my midwife for a sweep. Never in my life did I think I would beg for another women to stick her fingers in my vagina but I was honestly that desperate by this point to give birth.

On my fifth day overdue I started to get some twinges in the early hours of the morning. At this point I wasn’t convinced they were anything significant so I stuck Animal Hospital on the tele (god I’ve not watched that in years!) and tried not to get too excited.

The twinges quickly became more uncomfortable and I woke Kev for some moral support. Things quickly escalated and wow IT REALLY HURT! I was absolutely not prepared for the pain of labour. I immediately realised I had been an absolute cocky bastard throughout pregnancy when telling people I wasn’t too worried about the pain of labour. This was more than pain, this was role around on the floor because nothing else is working kind of pain. And we can’t not talk about Kev, he was in a complete flap. He had absolutely no idea what he should do. I remember him running a bath and trying to poor water over me, I remember him hovering with a plate of toast and him talking to the midwives on the phone to arrange me going in to the delivery suite. God know what the downstairs neighbour thought as by this point I had lost all control and was wailing. Full on wailing.

The next job was to get me to the car. I remember feeling like I needed to be some kind of ninja on the journey out to the car. I mean who wants all the curtain twitching neighbours to watch you in labour on a Sunday morning. In reality we did some kind of mad start and stop dash to the car with me making strangled cat noises whilst trying to hold in my earlier wailing.

Kev had lined his front seat with towel (saving the car seats was clearly a huge priority for him) and I ended climbing in on my knees facing the back of the car and hugging the head rest.

Off we went on the 30 minute drive to the local hospital. I noticed within about 2 minutes that Kev had gone particularly quiet. I remember giving him the look of death as he mumbled that the petrol light was on. At that moment, if looks could kill, Kev would have been dead right there in the footwell of the drivers seat. So we now had to make a detour to the nearest petrol station. Through my panting and pain, I stiffly told Kev this had best be the fastest fuel stop he had ever made. I watched him hurried pull in and jump out to fill up the car. I then watched him go in to pay, stop FOR A CHAT and the POINT EXCITEDLY towards the car, announcing to everyone that his wife was in labour. At this point I was mentally preparing my divorce statement and thinking about who could be my emergency birthing partner after I had sacked Kev.

As he sheepishly returned to the car, he put his foot down and we were back on our way. I remember screeching at him all the way there, not to pull up next to any other cars at traffic lights and to hurry the hell up.

The relief I felt on arriving at the hospital was insane. Although whoever designed that hospital needs to go back to school. The maternity ward is not only the furthest from the car park but its also on the 13th floor of the building. We took a very slow walk up to the building, hiding behind various trees and pillars with each contraction (I have no idea why I felt so self conscious of being seen) and eventually made it to the lift. Of course out of the two lifts, only one was working. I remember there being a quiet middle aged man waiting patiently for then lift, giving us awkward, slightly scared sideways looks every so often. We waited for that lift for what felt like half an hour, it went to level 10, 4, back to bloody 10 again, then a few other levels before finally coming to the ground floor. Middle aged man politely declined getting in the lift with us (he must have been really nervous of the slightly loopy pregnant lady to have decided it was worth declining the lift and waiting another 3 hours for it to get back to ground floor again!).

We finally reached the labour ward where we were greeted and taken to a private room for assessment. A good 4-5cm she said like it was some kind of achievement. All I could think was how I was barely even half way.

The next few hours are a blur, I remember being very shouty (probably the talk of the hallway) and eventually begging them to re-examine me. There was a bit of mumbling and the midwife explained that the baby was back to back and that although I felt the need to push, I was only 7cm and that I must push yet. Well that was impossible. I paced the room, squatting every few steps to push, whilst releasing what I assume was a small amount of pee in a little puddle. There was a young student midwife following me around with paper towels to mop up each little puddle I made. Eventually the anaesthetist arrived to give me an epidural. Stay still he said…..I remember glaring at him and imagine sticking the needed though his eyeball in a rage. I then felt an overwhelming urge to push, left up and squatted and my waters burst in a perfect tidal wave over the anaesthetist’s shoes. Feeling slightly smug I managed to stay still long enough for the needle to be put in and then I waited patiently for the magic drug to work. I waited and WAITED all the while feeling like my belly was exploding only for me to have a tiny little numb patch on one bum cheek and that’s it….THAT WAS IT. So much for the wonder drug, it hadn’t worked and I had to carry on with just the gas and air that made me sound like a man when I talked (anyone else ever noticed that it does that?!).

After another quick examination, the midwives decided I was basically at 10cm (apart from a little lip they said, whatever that meant?) and they set about getting me to push. I remember Kev trying to put a wet panel on my head and me immediately throwing it straight back at him. I also remember at one point him just standing there with silent tears falling down his face (you are probably all thinking ‘ahhhhhh’ but honestly, I was the one pushing the baby out! Pull yourself together Kev!). Apparently I was close, breathe they said, pant. I remember thinking sod panting, I want this baby out and with one big push I birthed what felt like a TODDLER into the world. The next bit was a bit of a blur as he wasn’t breathing straight away as he’d swallowed his poop (gross) and some doctors sucked it back out of his airways. I do remember Kev holding my face with both of his hands just repeatedly saying “its a boy”.

After a quick cuddle and the placenta coming out (again…gross) the midwife did an internal to see what damage I’d done to my lady region.

Her face said it all as she announced I had rather extreme tears as my new baby had an unusually large head circumference. 25 stitches later and I remember thinking I had best stay with Kev forever as no one else can ever see the poor state of what was left of my vagina.

It’s a wonder I ever went on to have any more children…….