Happy FIRST birthday!!!

Happy Birthday to my little little Man, today he is one and what a  journey it has been. This is basically our birthing story and how he came into this world...

So, it all started at 5.30 am, nine days after my due date, it was February 15th, 2018. I’d had a few twinges and, as time passed, they began to get more frequent. 

As it was half-term I had to call my mum to come and look after little big man. I then phoned the hospital around 9.00 am after having contractions seven minutes apart. They said to come whenever as, with this being a second baby, he could come quite quick. For some reason it didn't panic me, it didn’t even panic Steve, he was so calm. I checked my bag, had a shower, did my hair and make up and was looking quite glam. We even sat and had a cup of tea before we left for the hospital. 

We drove to the hospital, roadworks, stopping, starting all the way. Steve and I were having a laugh, dancing in the car, well, I was dancing in the car in between contractions. So much positive energy and excitement.

Oh I forgot to mention, during my pregnancy, I’d suffered with swelling but had had regular blood tests and blood pressure taken and everything was fine. However, the day the contractions started, my feet and hands  had swollen so much, the only difference between me and Princess Fiona from The Shrek Movies, was the green skin (hers not mine). I had protein in my urine and the midwife was concerned about the swelling so took blood tests as well.

We got to the hospital and, as arranged, my sister-in-law arrived, she brought along her oils and calm aura. I wanted her to be there mainly for Steve as I was worried how he would cope. My waters finally broke, woo the warm liquid running down my legs felt like I was jumping into a bath but it was brown. I knew that wasn't a good sign so I pressed the button and the midwife came in she said the baby had pooed inside but it was fine, I didn’t think it was fine, it meant the baby was stressed right?

Anyway, we went downstairs, my contractions were getting closer, pain more intense. "GIVE ME THAT EPIDURAL NOW!" I went from 3cm at midday to fully dialated at 3.45 pm. Woohoo, you go uterus. I was so proud that my body had done  that, so quickly!!

I had  an epidural, although now, upon reflection, I think I shouldn't have had it as I was quite far gone and I could still feel everything anyway, I was chuffing away on the gas and air as if it was going to run out. It was amazing, I was so high on life I was admiring the anaesthetist’s trainers they looked brand new and I asked him where he’d got them from.  Now I have no idea where they were from, nor do I even care. 

Forty minutes later and our little bundle was here, I had smashed it, no problems, he was out, he cried. Steve cut the umbilical cord but I was  gutted that HE didn’t cry. Our baby weighed 9lb 6oz. Holy Moly! I must need sewing up right? Think what you will, but nope, I didn't need a single stitch. Awkward. 

Next thing I know the placenta wouldn't come out, no amount of tugging was going to get it out, it was stuck to my uterus. So the midwife pressed the big red emergency button, calling for back up. Within seconds we had surgeons; doctors; nurses; more midwives coming in and all sorts of machines and drugs were being bought through. Then I heard, "prep for theatre" I think I cried out, I’d just given birth to a baby, myself, my body did that, but now I can’t even expel my placenta. No, I didn’t want to go to theatre. After that I don’t remember much, I think I’d been sedated.

In all honesty, I could have been about to die but I was so calm, I remember seeing my partner’s face as he held our son, staring at what was going on, my sister-in-law looking terrified. I felt weird, odd pressure in my stomach. I looked to my tummy and saw the handsome greek surgeon with his arm, yes I do mean ARM, waving around inside me. I don’t know if he had left some shopping in there or what. It was the last thing I saw, the last thing I remember.

He managed to get the placenta out but then I started bleeding, I lost just over three litres of blood. I had an oxygen mask on my face; I was having to slide over onto another bed; my socks had been removed because they were dripping with blood and the nurses were scraping the blood off the table into bags. Epic. I think the average human holds five litres, so yeah, it wasn’t looking good, but because my recovery was very quick (I am frigging bionic me) there was no need for a blood transfusion. 

I was taken to, I think it’s called, the trauma ward, but all I can remember is Steve being asked to leave. Big mistake. He was begging to stay, I could barely move, I was drained. He had to leave me and his new born son until 8.30 the next morning. I had a catheter inserted which was the weirdest of sensations, farting constantly and no matter how hard I tried to squeeze those butt cheeks, it was slipping out. I thought I’d pooed myself, I had a bit. Had to get the midwife to clean me up. I wasn't even embarrassed. Catheter filling up, beta blockers, IV antibiotics. You name it, I had it. On the plus side I had as much toast to eat and tea to drink as I wanted. During all this time though the midwives were great. 

Steve slept in the car in the car park that night, well, he didn't sleep. He wasn't prepared to leave us, he came back in as soon as he could. He looked like death. I was walking to the toilet, asking when I could go home. No chance! I had to stay in for a few days, I got told that after day 4 or 5 I could relapse, have a stroke, a massive bleed, die. I thought I felt so good but I was lying to myself, however, I stayed strong. We finally come home after 3 days it was amazing. Finally we could be a family, but I felt like crap.

Over the next couple of days I was monitored everyday by midwives for blood pressure and checks to see how I was. I then had to go to the hospital to have my checks. I was taking beta blockers every 6 hours. My heart was thumping, I felt dizzy, I could hear the blood swirling around my ears. My blood pressure was high. The hospital suggested I go to the doctors as I had told them I had stopped taking my beta blockers as they were making me feel worse. The doctor said it was too high and I could relapse any minute. I had even driven myself to the doctors, she told me off for doing so. She called the hospital and they wanted me back in. The worse news I could hear. I drove back home and broke down, I was hysterical, I was scared, I felt rubbish. This wasn't the way I wanted it. I wanted my family, I wanted to be that mum.

We were back  in hospital for five days. I cried everyday, even though I had my baby with me. Steve didn't come to visit us as money was tight, and he also needed to be at home for our little big man. It's a 45 minute journey from home to the hospital, not to mention the time spent trying to find a parking space. I felt so alone, no one came to visit. I am surprised post natal depression didn't kick in. It was just me and my baby. On the plus side, I really did enjoy the hospital food. It was so yummy!

Finally we got to go home although the doctor really wanted me to stay in for another night, my blood pressure was being checked every four hours and  they wanted 48 hours of good blood pressure. 

It had been a journey I never wanted to take again. I was adamant I wouldn't want another baby but ..........boy a lot can happen in a year,  I am now begging Steve for us to have another!

I cannot believe it has been a year, it has flown by. I appreciate every day, every moment, even when he is teething and waking up at 3.00 am, my little little man is  amazing. I am so grateful to still be here and to have such healthy happy babies. 

Happy Birthday little little man.