With Dr. O’C returning to the ranks of the employed in a few weeks, this feature is likely short-lived. Maybe if we talk real nice to her she’ll continue – or at least get Baby Z born…

September 10, 2007

Chris and I had convinced ourselves that the baby was going to be late, so when my waters broke a week before my due date, I had to keep smelling my skirt to make sure that it wasn’t just a collapsed bladder.  I walked back to the house, leaking as I went, in a bit of shock, giggling almost hysterically.  When I get nervous I have a tendency to laugh.  I think the reality was finally setting in.  Poor Chris has to harass me to call the hospital to find out what to do next.  We call our friends to pick up the dog, load up the car, call some family and head to the hospital.  They confirm that my waters have broken (no shit, Sherlock) and offer us the option of either staying put and being induced or going home to see if things happen naturally overnight.  Two things go racing through my head at this point – 1) There is no way I am ready for this baby to come now and 2) I don’t want my baby to born on September 11th.  So, I convince Chris that we should go home and take the natural approach of wait and see.

We wake bright and early, after a surprisingly good nights sleep (for me anyway).  I call the hospital to see when we can come in but they are busy so we wait.  I have some email conversations with friends and we laugh and things are a bit surreal.  Contractions haven’t started, I am in no pain but I know that we are going to have a kid, like, soon.

We eventually get the go ahead to go to the hospital and get sent to a ward to start the IV antibiotics. Chris and I waste away the afternoon playing scrabble with Chris nervously checking his watch every 10 mins. His patience was wearing thin when we had been waiting nearly 6 hours before they would take us to a delivery room. For me, I would have been happy to wait as long as they wanted!

The next 54 hours are like an out of body experience.

I hate needles, yet I have them sticking out of both arms until I leave.  I hate pain and yet I know that labour was not going to be pain free.  In the words of one of my wise friends “There is only one way out now”.  I am a private person and yet I know that all types of people are going to be poking and prodding me and at some point it is going to get really messy.  I have drips coming out of both arms, a contraction monitor and a fetal monitor strapped to my belly.  Chris unplugs vital equipment to plug in his iPod stereo.  He had been working on the playlist for months!  I explain to the midwife my birth plan, which in one short word is DRUGS.  I further explain that red heads are scientifically proven to be more sensitive to pain and when she had a minute she should line up the epidural.  A natural birth was NEVER EVER an option.  Personally I don’t see the point.  The kid ain’t going to remember or care.

They start pouring the oxytocin into me. Contractions finally start and I cope well for a while.  They wire me up to a TENS machine which does nothing but distract me from the pain because it is inflicting another more annoying type of pain.  Some crazy substitute midwife (whilst the normal one was on a break) offers me a lavender footbath to relieve my increasing pain and I nearly tell her to fuck off, but restrain myself.  I start calling for an epidural but it was a few hours before they would let me have that and when they do the relief is immediate.  I love modern medicine- the whole keep-still-whilst-I am-shoving-this-needle-into-your-spine is a bit scary, especially when the contractions are coming hard and fast every minute or so.  But damn that needle is a godsend.

The next few hours are a blur – a mix of sleep, epidural top-ups and internal examinations.  But over forty hours after my waters break I am finally given the green light to push. Now there really is only one way out.

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