Thursday, January 08, 2009

Yeah yeah

I know, I know, no name, bad parents yada yada. It isn't as if we haven't been trying, we had a lovely long list and nothing is right. I think maybe tomorrow. I certainly think we should have a name before she hits a week old.

The baby is splendid. She is tanned and lovely, in a jaundiced way, which means the only time in her life that she has olive skin she is 1 week old.

We're really great, actually. With both boys we were trapped in hospital for almost a week, and it really sucked. I think people have this romantic view of lying around in hospital being waited on, but when you're there because your kid is sick, you'd just rather not be. So we have felt very lucky to be home since day 2.

Here is the birth story, won't be too graphic, it actually wasn't too graphic, but don't read on if you a) have a romantic view of childbirth or b) like to think of me as a cool ice queen.

We arrived at hospital nice and early. I'm always ridiculously prompt (apart from with baby due dates), so the specialist's vague 8.30-9 meant we were there at a nice shiny 8.15. He was there at a nice late 10.30, and promptly inserted the prostin gel stuff where the sun don't shine (how many euphemisms will I be able to come up with in an entire birth story?). I was pretty pleased when he said the head was low.

Lots of waiting, went to a cafe, visited my friend down the hallway who'd had her baby a few days earlier, went and checked out the darkest reaches of the hospital (I can offer directions to the Diabetes Unit and don't recommend the "healthy" hot chips at the canteen - no salt! Bleurgh!). I ate truckloads, actually. Previous labours I'd been firmly instructed not to, and had starved. Nobody told me not to, so I ate everything in sight.

1pm, no action. Specialist inserted more prostin.

Getting antsy. While we wait, I'll explain my decision to use a specialist. My previous babies were both induced. I didn't necessarily feel this was necessary the second time, and felt like the decision wasn't really one I could discuss with someone in authority, so this time I thought I'd go straight to the top. Plus, my first son had caught Group B strep in labour and was very sick. This was due to my doctor forgetting to give me antibiotics, my midwife being sick, my stand-in midwife not reading the notes, my midwife not passing on the info. All up we ended up with a very sick child, and lots of people to blame. There is nothing good about that.

With Malo, they didn't get the antibiotics in in time, and he was born with a temperature and possible Group B strep. Talk about crap. So, this time I took the responsibility upon myself and engaged a totally top notch obstetrician. Turns out the dude was ace, and had more booze in his office than we have at home, which is the attitude I respect.

So, contractions start up, and I'm proud of myself for being in control and saying "ride the wave" and thinking positive thoughts about how it was all for the good and working to get everything ready, and we thought we'd better get the specialist to check me out because I'm in pain - ha! I get examined at about 6.50pm, and I haven't got ANYWHERE. 0cm dilated, nothing effaced, waters can't be broken nada.

The specialist offers me some platitudes about how it is likely to be the next day, and he knows it is like period pains, and I should get some sleep. He reassures me I'll get my epidural, it won't be like my last labour, they promise. He leaves, I start crying and misery gutsing to Glen, and if you insert a swear word at every asterisk you'll get the idea:

"**** period pains, I like to * see * him have ** period pains like these ** I don't want to * do it, I can't * do it, I need an epidural ***********" ad nauseum.

And then it really gets very painful. Glen races out to get the midwife and some gas, and she examines me, and in the preceeding 20 minutes I've dilated 3cm and my cervix has moved around (whatever that means) and now I can't talk, because it really really hurts.

The specialist arrives maybe about 7 days later, maybe half an hour? He has some drugs on him, but they don't really touch the sides. Can't even notice them. I'm lying on my side just sucking gas for something to do really. The gas gives me that nice feeling of being a bit spinny when you're about to puke your guts out when you're drunk. Not quite the happy juice I remember from the last time.

And all my proclamations of not being a screamer are out the window. Except I'm not really screaming, more just audibly wishing to die. Please, kill me.

Exactly the same as my last labour the anesthetist is stuck in surgery. No epidural.

And then I feel a brick in my bowel area. Like a big, hard, gritty brick. And I think perhaps I can just keep it quiet, because I have a hideous feeling they're going to make me get this brick out in a most unnatural way. Sure enough, they look and tell me it is a baby, and in two pushes I can have it out. They don't seem to realise that I'm dying and that I couldn't push a little cottonball down a steep incline, but they keep on at me, and I'm compelled to stop yelling when they tell me to, and make a vague sound like I might be co-operating. I don't think I really do much pushing, and in 2 contractions the baby is out.

And I feel ********* amazing. Really, absolutely immediately amazing. My baby is out, I never have to do it again, I can walk, it is 8.45pm.

Part of the amazing feeling could possibly be those narcotics the doctor slipped me, which didn't help ease the pain, but I suspect contributed to my charming exhilarated immediately afterwards.

The midwife said I did an excellent job pushing (they say nice things like that), and told me the baby was lovely (which she is, but I know newborns look funny), they're so kind.

And that is all.


Lisa said...

all hail the might vag!

Anonymous said...

er, mightY.

Nikki said...

Possibly The. Best. Birth. Story. Ever.

Hilarious and impressive that you survived your near death experience and ended up with a squishy baby at the end.


Sarah said...

Wow! Congratulations! I had to read snippets out to my hubbie and we both had a chuckle (sorry!). But, seriously, you did SO well and write the story like it should be - with full, open honesty. Well done and so pleased to hear you're home and bubs is thriving (and looking a nice colour - snap away with the camera - as she'll need fake tan when she's older!). Loving your story, congrats again, wishing you all every happiness.

sas said...

I have heard that its like having your top lip pulled over your head. Which doesn't sound very nice at all.

Anonymous said...

Good lord - I read that and I'm not sure it was a good idea. Definitely felt my bowel etc clench involuntarily.

Poor you!

and, er, something to look forward to one day I guess....

ps (I know people who didn't name any of their three children for aaaaages after each birth - like sort of almost months - and none bad happened).

Robyn said...

Well done. That's quite a tale. And as a bonus, this post can function as an effective birth control.

Take your time picking your baby's name. She's not old enough to know she doesn't have a name yet. One day soon you'll look at her and you'll just know what her name is.

Antipodeesse said...

Yay, congratulations! Excellent birth story, one which your (poor, nameless) daughter will surely enjoy in years to come.

Wish my mum had written my birth story down somewhere!


charlotte said...

well that was nice and quick!
yeah, at least saying ride the waves gives you something to say...

ours'll be out soon. and then i'll stop stalking your birth story and stuff and give me something of my own to do...

miss_seph said...

the one myth that you shattered was the myth that says "you don't remember the pain at all". It seems to me like you remember it pretty * well :)

Kelly said...

Well done, a million hoorays, and I can't believe you got through all of that so well. I feel lucky to not have had contractions for more than a few hours...but you have been through three inductions and births now, so I am in awe. Well done again.

Mr Reasonable said...

Funny how they forget the antibiotics every time, like babies aren't born every day. Our eldest got Strep B too because they "forgot" and by the time they remembered it was all too late blah blah.

Great story and look forward to photos of cute squishy Ms.

spentrails said...

I'm mightily impressed. And impressed with this great account of it all. I predict fame, fortune and continuing fantabulousness from this moment forthwith!


llew said...

Yikes! That made my eyes water.

Well done Martha!

backin15 said...

Wonderful story Martha. Much respect and congratulations.