My step-dad was a lorry driver, he died in a road traffic accident when I was 7 weeks pregnant. I was one of those stupid pregnant ladies that was insistent on waiting until 12 weeks before telling anyone.
This meant he never knew he would have been a Grandad.
My pregnancy was used as the shining star to make everything okay again. I was told over and over that I had to be happy, because I was growing a baby now.
I never got a chance to grieve.
I saw various counselors during my pregnancy, all of which warned me that I was most likely to experience post natal depression once my baby arrived. My first pregnancy wasn’t easy, with hyperemesis gravidarum forcing me to be admitted into hospital on 7 occasions due to dehydration.
At 38 weeks, my midwife came to visit me for a routine check up, my blood pressure was extremely high, so high that I was told to go straight to the maternity unit. With not being able to drive, my husband working an hour away and my Mom working six hours away, I had no idea what to do.
In the end my Mom’s new boyfriend left work to take me to the hospital (baring in mind he had only been reintroduced as her boyfriend a few months before!) we awkwardly talked about all kinds of crazy things to take my mind off what the heck was happening. My husband arrived at the maternity unit just after us, we were both clueless about what was going to happen but I had packed all mine and baby’s bags just in case! With my blood pressure soaring and not changing enough with the blood pressure medication, it was decided I was to be induced. Luckily it was not severe enough to warrant immediate action so we agreed to start the induction process in the morning.
Following an uncomfortable night’s sleep, I was given the pessary and told to entertain myself. We walked the hospital halls and played games of travel Monopoly and Connect 4. My Mom had traveled back from work as we wanted her to be there during the birth. The day dragged. Nothing had happened and I was getting increasingly frustrated. Another uncomfortable night alone, with the promise that my waters would be broken first thing in the morning. It didn’t happen. I found it so frustrating that they weren’t keeping to their time scales. Silly looking back as obviously it was because more important cases needed to be dealt with. I couldn’t see it like that at the time!
After a snappy shouting match with my Mom, in which she stormed off, I was told I was finally off to the labour ward to have my waters broken and induction started. Time for the grovelling call to Mom, in which I had to apologise profusely before she would come back! My waters were broken with ease and I was started on Pitocin. We ordered Thai food and settled into a long night. 8 hour laters, using gas and air (but not really inhaling enough to get any benefit) I gave birth to our beautiful daughter. She was perfect and healthy. We had our first feed and felt the burst of love straight away.
The midwives were started to look a bit concerned and made me pass my baby to my husband so I could focus on pushing out my placenta. It wasn’t budging. Before I knew what was happening, the emergency bell was pressed and the room was swarmed with nurses and doctors. I was told to sign a piece of paper, I still don’t know what that was for? I was wheeled into theatre where it was decided I would be put under General Anesthetic.
I woke up 4 hours later to my Mom hovering above me. I had no idea what had just happened, I cried for my Mommy, asked her if I was dying, she told me it had been close, but I was fine now. Then I remembered my baby, and was reassured she was just fine too.
I don’t remember much of our first day together, we spent most of it still in our delivery room. I was very woozy from the GA, I couldn’t really eat and was catheterized so couldn’t move from my bed. I remember two midwives literally milking my breasts into syringes so my baby could be fed, as I had so many cannulas fitted I couldn’t hold her properly. By evening I had managed one feed, meaning I was deemed well enough to be transferred to the post natal ward – alone. My husband was told he couldn’t stay with me to help our baby. Even though I was still catheterized so unable to move from my bed.
I felt so scared, and buzzed for a midwife at any opportunity. When she started hiccuping, I wasn’t sure what to do! She only stopped crying when being fed or laying on my chest, with it being so difficult to pick her up I decided she’d stay there. I had done so much
research during pregnancy and was adamant I would not be bedsharing. My little girl ended up sharing our bed until she was just over 2 years old.
We left the hospital the next day, with the promise to return the next day for further blood tests. We now had a baby, and we were so blissfully happy.
To be continued…duh duh duhhhhhh….