The story of you, my darling, my little love.
My due date was March 12th, country was covered with snow and stress levels were HIGH! The 12th came and passed as did the next, pretty much, two weeks! Two failed stretch and sweeps and an induction booked for the 24th! WORST NIGHTMARE! I had gone from longing for labour, being so excited about my waters breaking, rushing to hospital and having a natural water birth to a drug induced labour and birth, I was gutted to say the least. We got to the hospital on Saturday morning...
at around 11 o clock and the induction process began. One gel inserted and a whole load of monitoring later contractions were coming thick and fast and the next thing I knew I was being taken down to the birthing ward! ARGH! At around 8 o clock that night the midwife broke my waters and it was getting so real, the tears came along with stronger contractions and it was HAPPENING! I was going to find out if I had been growing a little boy or a girl for the past 9 months! Who was wriggling inside my tummy? I loved you so deeply yet didn’t know you yet. But you knew me, you’d listened to my heart from the inside, you’d heard me laugh, heard me cry, heard me sing and heard me curse but we hadn’t even met yet! A few hours followed of me stuck to the bed, with straps here there and everywhere monitoring my little wriggler, it was the opposite of what I had hoped for but it was right for us so I continued through the contractions eagerly awaiting the arrival of MY BABY!!!! From 4cm to 9cm in what felt like seconds, it was time to push!!!! I’d got to 10cm on 2 paracetamol and a few puffs of gas and air!!! (I held off on anything stronger because I was still praying for that waterbirth!!!!) They could see my babies head, the beautiful little head with a little monitoring clip on was there, and ready to be born!!! Oh, whats that? “Baby appears to have flipped back to back and their heart rate is dropping A LOT, and we are concerned” Ok then so now what?????….. In rush tonnes of midwives, doctors and what felt like every Tom, Dick and Harry the hospital had to offer. Theatre. That’s where we were heading. They needed baby out, and fast. I signed my life away mid contraction, off I was wheeled my partner following in his lovely purple scrubs. 2 epidurals later (the first was ‘too short’ apparently, what the?!?!) I was strapped to a bed, AGAIN!!!!! The doctor headed down south, only to tell me “Wow, you must have really been pushing because your baby is no longer back to back” WHAT THE HECKKKKK!!!! They continued. I was cut, THE ONE THING I FEARED, THE ONE THING I SAID FOR 9 MONTHS I DID NOT WANT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The forceps were ready, and I was stuck in stirrups, not ideal.
The healing was tough, my partner had to physically put me in the shower, help me up the stairs and a rubber ring was my best friend, but nothing was shadowing the new born bubble I was so deeply snuggled in!
Out came a baby with the next couple of pushes, MY baby, cord around his neck and body more than one , face slightly bruised but he was here, and he was safe! My 10lb 1oz, darling little boy! Lincoln. The next few hours are still a blur to this day! I was stitched, blood clots pushed from me and my life as a mum began! The next few days were filled with every emotion possible, mainly pure happiness!!!! Then came the third day post partum! WOW! Tears, after tears, after tears?! “Why am I crying?” I STILL DON’T KNOW! The healing was tough, my partner had to physically put me in the shower, help me up the stairs and a rubber ring was my best friend, but nothing was shadowing the new born bubble I was so deeply snuggled in! I am now 4 months PP and my body is still healing, I will never be the way I used to be, but that’s ok. One look at my little (not so little if I am honest) boy and I am at peace with myself, every fibre of my being is this way because I grew, I nourished and I birthed a living, breathing, beautiful boy. My Son, Lincoln.