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r_scribblesNo real time to thank you all for your replies - madam still likes to eat, poo and cuddle all night as opposed to sleeping in her basket so I seriously overslept today (my mum is down and takes over come morning so we can get a lie-in). Right now she's awake but cuddling, looking up at me with her big old froggy eyes.
So the first tale commences...
Turned up at Ashford hospital at 7.30 in the morning to be induced, but, suprise suprise, they were really busy and didn't actually have a bed for me on the induction ward (there were some poor women there who were 3 days in with still no labour). Cue an hour of sitting around in the waiting room wondering what was going to happen. They took me in at 8.30, monitored the babe for a bit, then started me on the dilation inducing drugs around 10. Tey did two lots and by early afternoon the pain was starting. It was like very very bad period cramps - the kind where you really don't want to get up and go to work and just want to spend the day with a duvet & hot water bottle. Attempts to nap by that point were obviously fruitless. And the pains got worse. and worse. By the evening they were unbearable, lasting around 30 seconds and a couple of minutes apart. Annoyingly, my wonky cervix foiled me yet again - the midwife couldn't find it come 9ish, said it was still obviously very far back so I was dilating slowly, put the pains down to the drugs, took away my lovely gas & air because she didn't want me to be on it all night, gave me pills including sleeping pills and said things would probably happen in the morning.
Well!
The pain relief pills were about as effective as slinging a couple of peanuts at a charging rhino but the sleeping pills were real knock-out drops. The result? Spent between 11pm and 5am crying in pain, pacing the (now otherwise empty) induction ward through the contractions, then as soon as the pain went I'd collapse on the bed and pass out for 10 mins or so, only to be shocked awake again by another contraction. I recall going through a series of Mantras as the contractions came - first was just repeating 'no' over and over, then come the wee hours it was 'I can't do this' - possibly a plea to the non-existant midwives (my midwife was at that point dealing with an emergency at A&E) and by the time the pushing urge had started the mantra had become a more positive 'it's OK'. All this time I had one midwife come in and see me. Her advice? 'you're getting yourself all worked up. You're not even in Labour yet. I'll run you a bath.' This was at 5, when I was already getting pushing urges but didn't know what they were. I had a quick bath, felt more pushing urges, thought I needed the toilet, pushed there and was covered in blood. my show had come out and I thought my waters had broken. Finally my midwife showed up, examined me and - lo and behold, I was 9cm dilated. Hubs was called and I was rushed into a Labour suite with no time to change out of my nice new nightie and, crucially, no time for an epidural.
Every labour is different of course, but I found that first part of labour the most painful by far - probably because of the fact that once I was in the delivery suite I was allowed more wonderful gas & air - I thoroughly recommend gas & air BTW - it seriously takes the edge off the pain as well as removing you a little from your surroundings, which was definately a good thing for me. Still, I was pushing for absolutely ages and I was still very drowsy from the sleeping pills. Started pushing around 6 and Violet came out just before 11.30, so that's nearly 6 hours. Oh, and you remember how I said the last thing I wanted was a labour on my back in stirrups, permanantly strapped to a monitor? Guess what I got! Was too exhusted to do anything else, my legs were too wobbly to stand. It certainly doesn't seem like 6 hours I was in there - more like 1, 2 at the most. And then a doctor came in, which is where my concept of time really flies out of the window. According to Hubs, that was about 20 mins before the birth but it seemed to me like he was there forever. Was given a local anaesthetic Downstairs (meant I didn't feel myself tear, which was good) but was also catheterised (OW!) and since the pushing was no longer getting me anywhere, Vi was helped out with a Vontuse (OW OW OW for both me and Froggie, who still has a bit of a bruised bonce).
And then I felt this incredible feeling of release and a little froggy babe was put on my tummy. Crazy. I was being stitched, bled, injected, all sorts - this is the person who only a week ago would kick up a fuss at having her blood pressure taken and now there were about four strangers prodding around my person and stitching up my foofie. Gas and Air, dudes. I did not give a shit.
We do have piccies of Froggie newly popped, but alas, they all have me in them and I look bloody awful so I'm not going to post them. Once we have some nice pictures of her uploaded I shall post them.
But for now, Lady Jane is crying for yet *more* milk, so Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho, it's off to express I go.
So the first tale commences...
Turned up at Ashford hospital at 7.30 in the morning to be induced, but, suprise suprise, they were really busy and didn't actually have a bed for me on the induction ward (there were some poor women there who were 3 days in with still no labour). Cue an hour of sitting around in the waiting room wondering what was going to happen. They took me in at 8.30, monitored the babe for a bit, then started me on the dilation inducing drugs around 10. Tey did two lots and by early afternoon the pain was starting. It was like very very bad period cramps - the kind where you really don't want to get up and go to work and just want to spend the day with a duvet & hot water bottle. Attempts to nap by that point were obviously fruitless. And the pains got worse. and worse. By the evening they were unbearable, lasting around 30 seconds and a couple of minutes apart. Annoyingly, my wonky cervix foiled me yet again - the midwife couldn't find it come 9ish, said it was still obviously very far back so I was dilating slowly, put the pains down to the drugs, took away my lovely gas & air because she didn't want me to be on it all night, gave me pills including sleeping pills and said things would probably happen in the morning.
Well!
The pain relief pills were about as effective as slinging a couple of peanuts at a charging rhino but the sleeping pills were real knock-out drops. The result? Spent between 11pm and 5am crying in pain, pacing the (now otherwise empty) induction ward through the contractions, then as soon as the pain went I'd collapse on the bed and pass out for 10 mins or so, only to be shocked awake again by another contraction. I recall going through a series of Mantras as the contractions came - first was just repeating 'no' over and over, then come the wee hours it was 'I can't do this' - possibly a plea to the non-existant midwives (my midwife was at that point dealing with an emergency at A&E) and by the time the pushing urge had started the mantra had become a more positive 'it's OK'. All this time I had one midwife come in and see me. Her advice? 'you're getting yourself all worked up. You're not even in Labour yet. I'll run you a bath.' This was at 5, when I was already getting pushing urges but didn't know what they were. I had a quick bath, felt more pushing urges, thought I needed the toilet, pushed there and was covered in blood. my show had come out and I thought my waters had broken. Finally my midwife showed up, examined me and - lo and behold, I was 9cm dilated. Hubs was called and I was rushed into a Labour suite with no time to change out of my nice new nightie and, crucially, no time for an epidural.
Every labour is different of course, but I found that first part of labour the most painful by far - probably because of the fact that once I was in the delivery suite I was allowed more wonderful gas & air - I thoroughly recommend gas & air BTW - it seriously takes the edge off the pain as well as removing you a little from your surroundings, which was definately a good thing for me. Still, I was pushing for absolutely ages and I was still very drowsy from the sleeping pills. Started pushing around 6 and Violet came out just before 11.30, so that's nearly 6 hours. Oh, and you remember how I said the last thing I wanted was a labour on my back in stirrups, permanantly strapped to a monitor? Guess what I got! Was too exhusted to do anything else, my legs were too wobbly to stand. It certainly doesn't seem like 6 hours I was in there - more like 1, 2 at the most. And then a doctor came in, which is where my concept of time really flies out of the window. According to Hubs, that was about 20 mins before the birth but it seemed to me like he was there forever. Was given a local anaesthetic Downstairs (meant I didn't feel myself tear, which was good) but was also catheterised (OW!) and since the pushing was no longer getting me anywhere, Vi was helped out with a Vontuse (OW OW OW for both me and Froggie, who still has a bit of a bruised bonce).
And then I felt this incredible feeling of release and a little froggy babe was put on my tummy. Crazy. I was being stitched, bled, injected, all sorts - this is the person who only a week ago would kick up a fuss at having her blood pressure taken and now there were about four strangers prodding around my person and stitching up my foofie. Gas and Air, dudes. I did not give a shit.
We do have piccies of Froggie newly popped, but alas, they all have me in them and I look bloody awful so I'm not going to post them. Once we have some nice pictures of her uploaded I shall post them.
But for now, Lady Jane is crying for yet *more* milk, so Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho, it's off to express I go.
