So in my last post I was full of hope, full of hope that on 16th December 2013, I would be induced by breaking my waters, my body would do the right thing and go into labour and out would pop our beautiful son without much assistance.
Yeah, well that didn't happen.
16th December turned out to be a very busy day for the labour ward and as a consequence we literally sat around in the Antenatal ward ALL DAY! It was so sodding boring, having obs taken for no reason and listening to others in labour. We did spend a lot of time walking around and getting outside when it wasn't raining and eventually a midwife did give me a rather rough sweep which seemed to be getting things moving - we went for a long walk around the adjoining council estate and I was definitely having some strong movements every 5-10 minutes which was encouraging.
Unfortunately by 5pm my patience had all but expired. As we were heading back to the ward we bumped into a lady who used to teach us swing jive dancing. "What are you doing here?!" we asked, "I'm the Labour Ward Manager," was the reply. A-ha! An insider! So we explained what had happened and she advised we speak to the Registrar on call and ask to be discharged home for the night, to get some proper sleep and try again tomorrow. She said that having been kept waiting all day, they would definitely make sure we were induced the next day, they wouldn't bump us again. Which all felt reasurring.
Off we went home for a bath and some decent food and sleep, ready to try again the next day.
Tuesday morning came. Slightly devastated as it meant we wouldn't get to see Scarlett's school play. Thankfully mum was on hand to go and see it and record her class's song for us. Off we trundled to hospital again and straight up to Labour Ward to stand firm and demand to be induced! We were shown to Room 5 and told that our midwife would be with us shortly, they were just waiting for a recently delivered lady to be moved to the Postnatal Ward.
We started unpacking and making ourselves comfortable. This is where my memory becomes a little hazy. I think it was eventually 10am when who I can only presume was a retired midwife appeared along with the midwife in charge that day to break my waters. By this point, our originally assigned midwife had been changed for a less experienced one (no offence, but with a VBAC case, surely they could've had a slightly more experienced midwife to assist?!) The retired midwife tried but with no success and I could feel my cervix pinging back to it's posterior position stubbornly. The midwife in charge had a go with much better success and I felt the warm flow of liquid that had been protecting our son. I heard them confirm they were clear (no meconium) so I was good to go for a walk for a couple of hours in the hope of getting things going.
My friend had delivered the previous evening (16th December - would've been funny had I actually been induced on the 16th, our boys could've shared birthday's!) and so I popped up to see them quickly in the hopes the smell of her newborn might encourage my contractions (sadly not). I did however managed to stimulate his bowels enough to produce his first poo (it's all about rubbing their feet - we still do it with Scarlett if she's having trouble...!!)
So after my flying visit we were off walking again. Having done so much walking the day before I was slightly shattered and achey and to be honest, I kinda couldn't be arsed! We wandered for a bit but I was overly concious that I was wandering in a what can only be described as a pyjama salwar kameez - the biggest nightie known to man and a worn out pair of bottoms (I was saving my best new PJs for after the birth). We went to the canteen and had a meatball sub from Subway and then did some more walking. By nearly midday it was time to head back and admit defeat and submit to the Syntocinon....
Part 2 will follow, but I warn you, it's quite sketchy and it all blurred into one splodge of time that prefixed everything else.