My birth story... 11 weeks on!

I have finally found time to finish writing up my birth story. All in all, despite it not going quite how I imagined it, I still feel like it was a positive experience. I mean, I got my beautiful little girl at the end!

Once I had finished work at 38+3 weeks pregnant, I planned to do something nice each day to make sure I didn’t get bored waiting at home. On Wednesday, 18^th Sep, I spent a lovely afternoon with my mother-in-law and niece. We took my dogs down to Hillsborough Park for a walk. I got home around 5ish and started with mild contractions pretty much straight away. I went and picked Tom up from work and when he asked me how I was I replied with “I might be in labour”.

I took some paracetemol around 10ish and went to bed. I had downloaded a timing app and dozed between contractions every 3-7 minutes until around 1am. As a FTM, I decided to ring triage for some advice. I knew I wasn’t ready to go in at that point, but also knew things were progressing and wanted some reassurance. They gave the ‘have a bath and some paracetemol’ line. I decided a long shower would be better, and contractions came pretty regularly during that. I woke Tom up afterwards and we put my TENS machine on. About 4 we rang triage again and went in.

We had a bit of a wait and could hear eerie screaming coming down the hallway. There were a couple of women there who made me realise I was a long way off giving birth and had been a bit early coming in. When we were seen my suspicions were confirmed and we were sent home for the time being. It was now around 6am.

I went straight to bed and slept reasonably well until about 9.30. Contractions got stronger during the morning, and Tom and I spent the day watching shitty daytime tv… all those property abroad type tv shows. The TENS machine was pretty useful, and I started timing contractions again at about 11am. They weren’t particularly regular, and slowed down a bit during the evening. When they picked up again and Tom said I was sounding more like the women that had been waiting when we went previously, we rang up and went back in. I still wasn't dilated enough so they sent us home and told me to have a bath, which I did, but unless you have a comfortable, big bath, it’s not really very relaxing and it actually made me feel worse. Tom went to bed and managed to get some sleep, and I watched Dumbo and dozed on the sofa. I ramped up the TENS and found a setting that definitely helped. When Tom got back up we watched Mary Poppins and then the Disney Robin Hood. By this time is was around 6am on Friday, 20^th September, and we went back in. I wasn’t quite 4cm dilated, but they decided to admit me anyway. We went to the delivery room and got comfy, listened to some music and let things progress. The next time I was examined was a few hours later and I was convinced she was going to tell me that I was only 4.5cm, so I was thrilled when she said 8cm dilated. I was really happy about this, and got pretty excited as I knew things weren’t going to be much longer, especially when she broke my waters, which were clear. I was coping alright with the pain, and gas and air took the edge off it when I needed it.

It got to the pushing bit. We tried different positions, but bubs just wasn’t shifting. The midwife who had been with us throughout this whole time was absolutely brilliant. Really encouraging, but she couldn’t understand why baby’s head was still so high up. All the monitoring of baby showed that she was doing fine, but just did not want to come out. They let me push for the allowed amount of time before getting a consultant in to examine me and discuss options. I had stopped using even the gas and air for the first half of this time as it was distracting me, but by the end was back on it.

My birth plan had always been to be ‘as natural as possible’. I figured this took into account that as long as baby came out safe and sound I would take the advice of the professionals. I specifically did not want to take diamorphine, and remember feeling relieved that the midwife agreed with me. After examination the consultant recommended an epidural and another drug that would simulate contractions, which did disappoint me, but I just wasn’t getting anywhere by myself. It was so that they could give me a break from pushing as I was exhausted by that point, and pretty out of it. They wheeled me down to the consultant-led end of the corridor. I remember being really confused whether they wanted me to keep pushing or to try and hold on, and asking Tom to find out. In fact, by this point, I think I was just using Tom as a middle-man to ask all my questions.

The anaesthetist came in and explained all the risks of having an epidural. I really had little clue what was going on, but forced myself to listen to the statistics he was giving me. I wasn’t able to process what the risks were, but my maths brain was able to listen to the numbers and work out if I should be overly concerned. I wasn’t. I had to really concentrate to sit still enough for them to insert the needle, but it quickly took effect. I remember being surprised that my leg wasn’t where I thought it was. It was the strangest feeling to have no feeling. They left me for an hour without me pushing to see if the contractions would push baby down any further. It didn’t, but both Tom and I managed to catch up on some much needed sleep.

 

 

At the end of that hour a different midwife joined us. They had decided to try another hour, but this time with me pushing with each contraction. I was in and out of sleep by this point and had to be woken with each contraction to push. At the end of that hour the consultant explained that they wanted to try for a forceps delivery, but that due to the position of the baby’s head, they weren’t even sure that they were going to manage that. If they had to abandon that procedure they wanted to be able to move to an emergency c-section, so I was prepped for theatre. I remember I had a hard job waking Tom up to tell him to go and change into scrubs… we were both exhausted!

All of a sudden I was in theatre with a bunch of medical staff, the midwife, the consultant and Tom by my side. I desperately wanted it all to be over, and about 20 minutes later it was and our little girl was born on Friday, 20^th September, 2013 at 17:59, thankfully without the c-section. They whisked her off with Tom to be weighed (she was 9lb 2) and wrapped up. The consultant explained that they had managed with forceps, but that she had come out “like a cork coming out of a bottle”, so he didn’t have time to perform an episiotomy and I had a 3^rd degree tear, but she was here and that was all that mattered.

I am disappointed that I couldn’t push her out myself, but it hasn’t affected our bonding. Whilst in recovery the consultant told me that there wasn’t any reason why I shouldn’t be able to have a normal vaginal delivery with my next baby. Honestly, I was still in recovery and he was talking about next time!

I spent a night and a half on HDU as I had lost around 1 litre of blood in theatre. We then had a couple of days on the ward as baby had jaundice and needed time in photo-therapy.

 

Apart from two minor incidents, the care I had at Jessops was brilliant. The food was less good, especially when I knew that Sheffield Food Festival was happening just down the road.

I had hoped for a normal, quick(ish) delivery with minimal help and a short stay in hospital, but I had prepared myself well for things going differently with the delivery. The only thing I hadn’t prepared myself for was 5 nights in hospital, and that was what I found the most difficult to cope with. I remember the morning I was transferred up to HDU from the ward being devastated when I was told that I wouldn’t be able to go home that day, but now it all seems like a distant memory!

She is now 11 weeks old and the most amazing little person I have ever met, and both Tom and I are completely smitten.

38 Weeks Pregnant

38 weeks. That's how pregnant I am. I have 2 weeks until my estimated due date and even if I go overdue will have my baby in my arms at some point within the next 4 weeks. I'm trying not to focus too much on my actual due date, although I'm sure that once it gets here I won't be able to help wondering if that day, and every subsequent day, will be the day.
I had one of my most fed up days yesterday. It wasn't so much being fed up of being pregnant, I'm more than happy to wait until baby is ready to make their own appearance, but I just couldn't bring myself to do anything. I laid on the sofa in silence. I couldn't even be bothered to turn the TV on. I had loads I wanted to get done but just couldn't be arsed to do any of it, and yet I was dying of boredom. I knew if I just got up and got on I would have been happier, but, nope, I stayed put until Mr Riley rang to say he had finished work. I had a bit of a soppy cry in the afternoon, over nothing in particular, but if felt good to let it out. I don't think I've been too hormonal during pregnancy (although Mr Riley might have a different view on that!). I've had the odd day, but have mainly maintained my rationality.
My low day yesterday made me think about how important support is during pregnancy, and I don't just mean midwifery support, although mine has been excellent. No, I'm talking about the other kind of support... the hugs, the understanding, someone to ask stupid questions of, and just the people you feel comfortable to be around.
I've found mine in a variety of places, some I expected and some I didn't. Family has been the biggest one for me. My husband, my parents and my in-laws have all been brilliant. I have also been really lucky with work. I changed jobs at 30 weeks pregnant, and both teams that I have worked with throughout my pregnancy have been lovely. I can't imagine how difficult it could have been if they had been less supportive. I should also give a big shout out to my favourite Sheffield ladies... the Seven Hills Women's Institute girls. It really is an amazing group to be part of, from finding sensible answers to my stupid pregnancy questions from SHWI mums or mums-to-be, to just being able to spend time with the friends I've made over the last 3 years or so has been wonderful.
I joined the September 2013 Birth Club on BabyCentre. On the site you can sign up to your 'due date' month so you can chat to women who are about the same amount pregnant as you. I've never been much of an internet forum user, but actually it has been really useful. Don't get me wrong, some of the discussion threads have some, er, interesting views, but you can certainly pick out the useful advice amongst them. It has really proved to be a hugely supportive forum, despite its anonymity, and I think a lot of the women have found much needed strength through it.
Twitter has also been pretty fab, and a few September due date mums have found each other on there and will no doubt be keeping each other company during night feeds. In fact, just last night I was kept company whilst I couldn't sleep by some fellow uncomfortably-pregnant tweeters!
And cake. Baking turned my mood around yesterday. I made Raspberry and Apple Crumble Squares yesterday. They cheered me right up!
In fact... I'm going to have one with a cup of tea right now.

Full Term

Two milestones have been achieved today. Firstly, I am officially 'full term' at 37 weeks pregnant, so baby really could arrive any day (although I would be very surprised if this happens before my due date of the 22nd of September. In fact, my money is on October the 2nd).

The other milestone is that it is September, which will make baby one of the oldest in their school year as opposed to one of the youngest. Whilst in the long run I'm sure this doesn't make too much of a difference, in those early years the difference between a 4 and a 5 year old can be quite substantial, so really I'm happy bubs has held on this long. Mind you, Mr Riley thinks that our little one will come out fluent in 3 languages and wearing a smoking jacket, so we probably shouldn't worry about intelligence, right?

I haven't written much about pregnancy. I hated it to start with. I felt rubbish up until 22-23 weeks, but once I started feeling, and especially seeing, baby wriggle about I started to enjoy it much more. At this point, I'm getting pretty achey. My legs and pelvis take longer each day to ease off once I get out of bed, I have an incredibly sore rib that is tender to touch and uncomfortable no matter what position I am in, and some of baby's movements really take my breath away now. Braxton Hicks contractions are becoming more noticeable, but they are painless and I try to take the opportunity when I do notice them to really think about my breathing until they have eased off. I figured it's good practice for the real thing.

I'm still working, and haven't yet decided exactly when I'm going to finish. I'm down to 3 day weeks, which are lovely and the right balance for me. By the end of the 3rd day I'm ready for a rest, but I get bored at home if I'm left to my own devices for too long.

The strangest thing for me in this latter half of pregnancy has been the occasional bouts of anxiety that I've felt when leaving the house and having to be around other people. Sometimes I'll have really lovely conversations with people (at work, friends, complete strangers) about whether it's my first, am I excited, have I thought about names and so on. I have, however, also discovered there are a lot of things that people say that make me want to stay in the house and not leave until after baby is born, at which point I'm sure there will be a whole bunch of new things people will say that will annoy me!

So, here's my handy 'don't say this to pregnant people' guide:

1) Don't comment on the size of the bump
If you tell someone they're small or neat, you might think that you're being really nice. But a lot of mums-to-be have told me that this has made them really worry that their baby isn't growing properly.
I, however, haven't had this problem. Since before I was even 12 weeks pregnant, people have been telling me how big I am. It has made me incredibly self conscious about myself and I have cried many a tear. Yes, I am sure I'm not having twins, thank you very much. Yes, I am sure I still have 3 weeks (or 6 weeks, or 9 weeks) to go. No, having a big bump does not necessarily mean that I'm having a big baby, nor does it mean that I won't get to my due date. I have really, really, REALLY, hated these types of comments.
If you have to comment on what someone looks like, tell them they look well. Or even that their bump is lovely. You don't have to mention the size at all.

2) Keep your horror birth stories to yourself
I've not actually had too much of this, thankfully. It is not that I am completely avoiding the thought that labour is going to be incredibly hard and pretty damn painful but I actually feel pretty relaxed about the whole thing. I'm not scared. I genuinely believe that this attitude will help me out as the more scared I am the more likely I will find it difficult to cope. Squillions of women have managed to give birth before, and most of them without the support that I will have down at Jessop's. My body is designed to do this, and each contraction felt will be one less to go until we meet our baby.
Obviously, I might change my mind when it gets going, but I don't need your stories on how horrific labour is beforehand.
There are also women who are genuinely terrified about giving birth, and this kind of story is not going to help them.

3) How hard it's going to be
Similarly to number 2, this is about people telling you how hard life after baby arrives is going to be. We've had it with the dogs... oh, how are you going to cope with 2 dogs and a baby? Well, we'll follow the advice on how to introduce them to the kid, keep an eye on the dogs' behaviour and then get on with it. Our dogs have been around children of all ages, from really new babies to teenagers and we have never had a problem. Obviously they won't be left unsupervised, and we'll train the dogs how to behave around the kid, but we'll also train the kid how to behave around the dogs. Having said that, Levi is chief babysitter...
Other pregnant friends of mine have told me that they also get this about having a new baby and a toddler, or the sleepless nights, or a variety of different things. The thing is, we know. We know this is not going to be easy. In fact, we know that this is probably going to be one of the hardest things that we have ever done. And it's ok to talk about it... it's fine to give advice on establishing breastfeeding, for example, or tips to settle a new baby in a moses basket instead of on your chest, but don't just go on and on (and on) about how difficult life is going to be.

4) "How are you coping in the heat?"
You will be about the 20th person to ask THAT DAY. I'm Scottish. I never cope well in the heat.

5) For 2nd time ( or more) mums
ANY comment about the gender of the baby. 'Oh, you must be thrilled to be having one of each', or 'Oh, you've had another boy, will you keep trying for a girl', or any hint that you might love your baby less because of the gender. Really? People think that might happen? What a stupid thing to say!

6) "Was it planned?"
"Is that any of your business?"
Or, even more strangely, "Are you happy about it?". Even if we weren't, we'd probably not want to talk about it to someone we weren't really close to. And would you really want to hear the answer to be 'no'? What would you do then?
I think people who say that probably mean "Are you excited?", and expect either a 'yes' or a 'I'm pretty nervous really'.

7) DON'T TOUCH THE BUMP
Unless you're invited. Think about how you'd like it if someone came up and stroked your belly, or even your face without being invited. Not very comfortable, I imagine.

So, that's it I think. There are probably loads of things that pregnant women have hated. Despite what I have said here, we do like to talk about our pregnancies, but generally the nice bits, or possibly to have a bit of a moan about the uncomfortable bits.

Now that I've reached due date month, I don't want to wish away these last few weeks. When baby arrives, I'll have to share, but for the time being bubs is ALL mine.

Here is my 37 week bump. I know, it's huge, isn't it?!?!?!?

A First Lesson

This week has had some pretty horrific stories in the news. A devastating tornado in the States, the coverage of the trial of Mark Bridger who is now denying abducting and murdering five-year-old April Jones, and yesterday the horrifying attack in Woolwich that left a young man dead in the street to name just three.

My coping mechanisms aren’t functioning at their best at the moment. Pregnancy hormones are making me feel even more strongly about stories like this, and I have shed a lot of tears as a result of watching the news. Last night, I found myself wondering what kind of world we were going to bring our baby into. I wondered this for about a minute and a half, and then I remembered how wonderful the world can be. After the bombing at the Boston marathon I saw something on facebook I think that said ‘when tragedy happens, look for the people who do the extraordinary’. It pointed out the people who ran towards the blasts to help, the runners who went straight to the hospital to give blood, and the incredible response of the Bostonians offering people hospitality.

Horrible things will always happen. We cannot shelter ourselves from this fact, but the reason that they are newsworthy and leave us feeling so shocked is because we live in a country where things like this don’t happen every day. There are millions of people that don’t have that luxury. It is right to feel disgusted by the murder in Woolwich yesterday, and it is right to be angry at the men who did this. However, it is not right to blame their race or their religion. The ‘get them all out of the country’ band wagon has been jumped on by people I thought would know better. The people who plan and conduct terror attacks are to be blamed, but this has very little, if in fact anything, to do with religion. They may use it as an excuse, but if they didn’t have religion they would use something else as their excuse.

I like living in a multi-cultural society. Not being religious myself, I like to learn about other people’s beliefs and I like to talk to people about different cultures. I actually know very little about the rest of the world, but I am willing and excited to learn when the opportunity presents itself, and it saddens me to still see so much racism in our own culture.

I follow an account on Twitter called @YesYoureRacist, who call out people who tweet racist statements. Yesterday they retweeted someone from Birmingham who said “Why don't all the english get together and kill the muslims! What's wrong with the country!!". A tweeter replied and said, “what, like Hitler?!”, to which she said “yes, exactly like Hitler!”. This exchange is a terrifying example of ignorance. I guess, seeing as you can’t tell someone’s religion just by looking at them, the English would have to go round asking folk if they were Jewish Muslim. Maybe in 70 years, the new Justin Beiber could write something in the visitor book of a museum.

What I decided last night, however, was to have a little chat to my belly. I told our little unborn baby that I will help to point out the good in the world when bad things happen, and that my ambition is for them to be happy in whatever they do, but that we will raise them to be accepting and respectful of everybody. Our baby will be taught about equality, about recognising the difference between right and wrong and about standing up for people less fortunate than themselves. I have absolutely no idea how we will do all this, and I won’t know until we’ve met our little one and found out about his or her personality, but I suspect we will lead by example.

In response, my baby gave me a little nudge in the belly that I felt from the outside for the first time. I took that as agreement, and then had a little cry because it was so lovely.

Unwanted Attention

Being pregnant is not what I had imagined. I hadn't realised just how rubbish I would feel, nor how long that would last before I started feeling better. Whilst I have moaned (quite a lot) about the constant queasiness, the throwing up, the week of headaches, the fatigue, I've found it bearable by having a wonderful husband, a supportive workplace and two gorgeous doggies to keep me company when I'm feeling at my worst. I am now on day 7 of symptom-free (a whole week!) and hoping that all these nasty early pregnancy things have now disappeared.

What I am finding the absolute hardest thing to deal with is the unwanted attention. Someone I HAVE NEVER SPOKEN TO before has just asked me when my baby is due. She didn't care about me before I was pregnant, why should she care now? Every work-related conversation I have now ends with "oo, look at your bump now". Since I was about 11 weeks pregnant I have had people express surprise at how big my bump is, not to mention people coming up and feeling my belly without invitation.

Not only am I finding all of the above difficult to deal with, but a lot of people don't understand why I don't like it. I get told regularly that it's just folks being interested/excited/etc but that just makes me feel guilty for not wanting people to talk to me. It makes me feel that I should be all happy and excited about it all, and I really, really am, it's just that I'm privately happy and excited about it all. It's also making me feel uneasy about seeing the friends that I actually do want to see and with whom I wouldn't mind talking about my pregnancy.

The logical part of my brain tells me that I'm going to have to find a way to get used to it, and that this increased attention is just part of human nature, but I can't ignore the way it makes me feel. I feel very self-conscious about how big my bump is due to the number of people who have pointed out that I'm going to be huge if I'm this size already. It almost makes me feel like I should be hiding it better, which I know is ridiculous, but I can't help it.

I just want to disappear into a comfy, secluded world full of dog-walks, knitting patterns, Nathan Fillion on the tv and tasty things in the fridge that never go off.

Pregnancy hormones, you have a lot to answer for.

SuperRich vs SuperPoor

This idea has been rattling around in my head for a while now, a kind of amalgamation of Supersize vs Superskinny and The Secret Millionaire, and a desire for MPs to really understand what it’s like to live hand to mouth.

My first thought was that perhaps they should try feeding their families with the amount of money that low-paid people have to spare on food. I’m not, by any means, poorly paid at the moment, but after bills, petrol and debt repayments (which I’m trying to do as quickly as possible) I bet that my monthly food budget is the same as some people’s weekly food budget. Fortunately I’m getting pretty good at making tasty and nutritious meals that cost next to nothing.

So, my pitch is this. Take one MP. Take one Civilian. And swap their financial lives for a month. The MP has to manage with the normal person’s bills, taking into account debt repayments etc, on the income that that person would normally get. They can’t take stuff with them (no champagne stashed in suitcases), and their clothes for the length of the experiment should come from the places that the civilian would shop. They can have the basics, but nothing extra.

Then the civilian gets to take their family and live like Elvis or Freddie (you know, a king or queen).

Neither are allowed to duck into each other’s savings (if the civilian even has any), but for that month they can spend what expendable income they have left on WHATEVER THEY WANT.  OK, for the sake of the watershed, probably not on drugs or sex, but anything else.

I’ll even be nice and allow London weighting to be added on… but only at the normal percentage for the civilian’s job.

Also, can I go first?

Ta.

A Bun in my Oven

My plans for 2013 were all very exciting and busy. Lots of dancing, training for the Sheffield Half Marathon, being organised with my diet and with the house, I had loads of plans of things that I wanted to write about and then, a mere 19 days into January I found out... that I'm pregnant. Which, admittedly, is also very exciting (and utterly terrifying!) but in a very different way.

I have never been desperate for children. I know people who just know that having a child is exactly what they want, or even need, and that it will add something to their lives and complete the puzzle. But, for me, I always thought that having a baby would mean giving everything up. OK, maybe not everything, but I have been living a very busy life and there is no way that it will ever be the same. In fact, it has already changed.

What has surprised me is how little I've minded the change. When I first found out I thought to myself that I can keep going dancing, and keep running (after all, I don't run very fast) and keep on top of the housework, and generally just do all the normal stuff. But the first 3 months of pregnancy are shit. Really, really shit. I am told that now I'm approaching the second trimester things will probably improve and I can't bloody wait.

Within days of finding out the fatigue hit me. After being at work all day I have little or no energy left in the evenings. I manage to get the dogs out for their evening walk, but other than that I'm on the sofa watching TV (hello season 1 - and 2 - oh, and 3 - of Buffy) or in bed by 9. The weekends aren't much better. If Mr. Riley's not home to cook I generally have toast.

Thankfully I have only been sick twice. Once after eating far too much when I invited people round for Burns' Night celebrations (for once it wasn't the wine... I was sneaking white grape juice into my wine glass!) and once in the morning. But I have felt queasy ALL the time. The only thing that has helped has been to eat, and sometimes that makes me feel better for a couple of hours, but sometimes it only helps for the duration of time that I'm actually eating. More recently I have found that having breakfast, fruit snacks during the morning, lunch at 12, a small bowl of salad at 2 and then an early tea has helped.

Oh yeah, and I'm struggling to digest food, so I feel full and uncomfortable a lot of the time. And I'm doing really stinky farts, which I blame on the dogs even if I'm the only one in.

I'm already up to an E cup in bra size, and my boobs hurt.

I also cry at everything. The other day I cried because I had cheese on toast (with marmite) for lunch. Why? Because I remember my mum making me that for my lunch when I was little and I can't wait to be able to do that for my kid. Seriously, though, cheese on toast? I'm an easy cryer at the best of times, but this is getting ridiculous.

In reality, I think I'm probably having a relatively easy time of it. Work have been brilliant, I'm still functioning for most things, Mr. Riley has taken complete control of the housework, cooking and domestic chores and been an absolute star. I haven't had any problems with my skin and I've been given a much needed excuse to be really lazy for a change. I desperately miss dancing, but have just been too tired.

So, whilst life has changed, it has been more about a change in priorities rather than 'giving everything up'. I'll not forget how to dance, and it will still be there when I'm ready to go back. Who knows, if it's definitely a baby in there and not a puppy, then maybe it will come out Charlestoning and we can go together. My due date is currently inbetween WI nights - will it be possible to not miss one??? As for friends, I'm hoping that my closest friends will still be there. A lot of us are around the age of having babies anyway, so maybe some of them won't be too far behind. Maybe the others won't be put off by my baby-bore stage that I will, without doubt, go through. Also, there will be new people to meet and share experiences with. 

I'm hoping that the coming weeks will show an increase in energy and a decrease in queasiness and now that we're out of the high-risk first trimester I'm looking forward to making plans, decorating the nursery, choosing names (can I go with Lindy Hope and Charles Tony????) and generally finding out what life as a real grown-up is like. Oh, and I'm planning the weirdest post-birth meal that includes blue cheese, pate, sushi, dippy eggs, pink steak etc etc etc