Thursday, 18 July 2013

Even more down to earth with a bump (15)

Welcome Sofia Faith (PART 1)

Sofia Faith was born September 1st, 2011. She came into the world in a hurry and almost arrived on the A3 whilst racing toward Royal Surrey Hospital. Within 30minutes of being there, she was in my arms. And I was in love.

In the end, there was nothing to worry about… the Registrar (the same Doctor who delivered Esme in fact: Dr Ganesh) examined me and seemed to think the baby was large, but could be delivered normally. During her exam she did a sweep and told me I was already 2cms dilated. All that back pain wasn’t in vain then?! Oh and as for the sweep? - It didn't hurt.

It worked too! That same evening, contractions began about 8pm and continued through the night. Then I had a show. Talk about text book. The next morning, with gravity, they kicked in and we got mum up to look after Esme. Then I lost a part of the mucous plug and things really got underway. Contractions were coming every three to five minutes and lasting almost a minute when we went to hospital.

Bugger me. I was still only measuring 2cms dilated. 

I walked around for an hour in a bid to get things moving faster and repeatedly took several flights of stairs. It worked. Back in the room, I bounced through each pain on the ball, turning up my TENS machine, notch by notch. Surely all was progressing? Surely I was further dilated now?

Yes I was, but foolishly, I had to go and be all stoic when the midwife came in to watch me have a contraction. 

Just what is it about being British? There I am in dire pain, contracting like a steam train, and suddenly I'm giggling. And let me make this clear, I had not used gas and air. The upshot was that the midwife didn’t want to examine me. Her diagnosis: that if I was truly moving along, I wouldn’t even be able to speak. She sent us home.

Hindsight is always a wonderful thing. I now know I ought to have asked that midwife to examine me before we left. But I didn’t. Instead, I came home just in time to put Esme to bed. To this day, I'm not sure how I managed to hide what I was going through from Esme. I did though.

I went to the loo and watched the rest of my mucous plug slip away. And almost immediately, the pain intensified. I ran a bath.

Wow. From the moment I dipped in the water, labour overwhelmed me. I yelled for Simon. He came up and held my hand and helped me out again. I needed my TENS back on, and probably an epidural. Shit it hurt. The pain was now at a whole new level.

Downstairs, Mum had made dinner. After all, a man has got to eat right? So as Simon sat down to chicken and chips, I bent double over the furniture opposite. Oh god. The next five minutes of contractions seemed like forever. I bit my lip through each pain as my mother sat helpless telling me to curse, and my husband ate his food.

All of a sudden, I knew. Just like that. I stood up and announced we had to go. I was ready to push. The baby was seriously close.

Simon had no sense of urgency whatsoever; managing to shove his remaining mouthfuls in. He had no idea that he could be delivering our baby on his backseat in the next ten minutes...

I told myself I would have to hold on a little longer. That I would not be able to push. YET. And as I did so, a sense of calm claimed me completely. 

*In hindsight, we ought to have called the community midwife, and I could have delivered on the dining room floor - that way Simon could have had pudding! BUT, Esme's delivery had gone so wrong, it didn't even enter my head, not to be at hospital to give birth second time around.

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