Turns out I didn’t break the drought with my last post. A mere blip to confirm I hadn’t dropped out of the blogosphere entirely. The main reason is the mega post I wanted to put up before anything else, about our Summer Holiday in the UK in June. I will still write this post but for now…
You see, what began in June, somewhere in the Cotswolds, was a little person. Our dear baby Sean was born Sunday 17 March 2013 late in the evening to the absolute overwhelming delight of his father and I. Entirely fitting he should be born on St Patricks Day as 1) the Irish heritage on both sides of the equation and 2) owing to the Guinness his dad swore was the best he’d had since we’d been in Ireland (over 10 years ago!) while we were at the Swan Hotel in Stratford-upon-Avon.
I’m sure, like any pregnant woman, by the end I couldn’t wait to meet our little boy. He wasn’t due until the 19th and I can only assume that in this regard he takes after his father (my side of the family are rarely on time for anything). Note: this trait was somewhat curtailed in me when DH was left waiting on corner of Oxford St and Regent St, London one February Saturday morning in 1999, brrr.
We’d had a pretty usual Saturday. I was keen to go for lunch outside in the glorious sunshine. Fish and chips and berry smoothie gobbled and a few extra bits and pieces for the house acquired, a usual dinner and knitting with movie, we turned in around 11:30pm. I’d just wound the extra Swans Island Winterberry (red) yarn that arrived Friday in order to complete the ‘take anywhere’ Decouverte knitted sleeveless Cardi (ok vest, but it just doesn’t seem ‘floaty’ enough a name for the design). Ideally I was to finish this before baby arrived. I was also onto the last strip of the pram blanket for him. Which I planned to complete last week.
I looked at the clock at 1:32am Sunday when I got up to pee, only to realise, well um, my waters seemed to have broken. I told DH, to which he replied something like, ‘you’ve finally wet the bed!’ and promptly, sleepily said ‘its ok, we’ll just move into the guest bed’. He did that and was nearly asleep again by the time I returned having called the hospital to confirm that ‘yes, my waters had really broken’ and we should come in. He had a coffee, I took a shower and off we went. No traffic on the pacific hwy at 2am that was for sure, but still a long 20 min journey, filled with ‘this is really happening’ type remarks.
In the birthing suite we we greeted by Sandra our midwife. Back to sleep (kind of) while we waiting for something else to happen. By 9:30am nothing much had apart from intermittent contractions and we started with the Syntocin to help them get going more acutely. Which is what did start to happen. By 11am the contractions were in full swing and there was no chance of eating anything, they were just too frequent and painful. I continued to focus on my breathing to ride each contraction with the exhale breath. That and gripping the bed rail or DH’s hand as hard as I could. I didn’t go with the gas and air as I thought I would, I was in a zone and didn’t want to tempt a wave of nausea on top of everything. A warm bath was next and that eased the situation a bit for about an hour, then the worst hour of the afternoon hit from about 3-4pm. This really was the lowest point, the pain was excruciating and I was starting to tire so badly I was forgetting to breath which made things worse, but even more so that I was still only 2.5cm dilated. Talk about feeling ripped off! There was no way I was going to last like this to 10cm. More significantly though, it was now starting to look like my cervix just couldn’t dilate as much as necessary. Regardless, it was time for the epidural.
I understand why there are stories about women telling their anesthetists how much they love them after receiving an epidural. It went to work and I started to not feel the pain, but our little boy wasn’t thrilled with the effect the combo of the epidural was now having together with the Syntocin. We went to the next branch of our decision tree, a caesarian section was now going to happen. Before we knew it I was in theatre, DH was wearing a blue plastic hat and at 9:10pm our little man was born! I won’t ever forget that moment DH placed Sean’s cheek next to mine while I was being sewn back up.
After a week of being parents we are still in awe, probably will be for some time yet. Each day is a sharp learning curve and I find myself looking up another bit of info each day on babycentre.com like I’m cramming for a test. Now it’s a matter of getting into a routine with breastfeeding, 2 hour sleeps between feeds and working out when to sleep during the day, when to shower and wondering when on earth I will ever knit again.
Would I change anything? Not one little bit!