Tuesday, 7 January 2014

Woody's Birth - Part 4 - Hairclips, Wedding Rings and Blowy Blankets

*DISCLAIMER* - This is where shit got real.  If you're not that cool with major trauma, please don't read on.  I don't want to be responsible for triggering anything in anyone.  I don't even know what the triggers might be - traumatic birth I guess.

By this point it was becoming clear all was not well.  Someone came and prodded my stomach and I remember the pain being fucking ridiculous.  The midwife in charge that night was holding a bag of plasma above her head.  It had a cuff on it that was being pumped to get the plasma into me quicker.  She was surveying the unfolding drama a little too closely as she over pumped the cuff to the point where it burst over her.  That was a little bit of light humour relief.  Only brief relief.

I was still having to chug gas and air every now and then to cope with things.

I remember then the shaking.  Uncontrollable shaking.  An air filled blanket was produced.  That felt nice and  warm and lovely.  I was getting cross when they kept moving it, kept lifting it up.  I wanted to sink into that air filled blanket and sleep.  But I was still shaking.  Still bleeding.  And I remember telling myself not to sleep.  Not to slip away.

Andy told me that a large sheet had been placed underneath me prior to the delivery.  He said it was just a waterfall of clotting blood.

The anaesthetist had reappeared.  She was trying desperately to get a line into me.  Get a line in anywhere.  My arms, my feet, my groin.  Nothing.

I was going into shut down.  My body was not coping.  I was going into shock.  It was around this time I got annoyed with the needles.  I told Andy I wanted them to stop poking me with needles.  A Doctor appeared at my side and told me they needed to get more fluids into me, I only had one line and they needed more.  I remember feeling pissed off with her.  "Don't tell me off, I'm the one having to put up with this shit," I said to myself.

Woody had gone, I'm not sure I had noticed.  Poor little bub was down in Neonatal by this point.  Andy was still with me.  He told me he was so torn, he didn't know who to stay with but he knew he was being looked after and there wasn't anything more he could do.  I was still vaguely conscious and aware.  With hindsight had he gone, I probably would've crumbled.

Still with the needles.  I think they had managed to get more in.  I don't recall.  I remember them saying I was probably going to have to go to surgery if I didn't stop bleeding.  They said they would either top up the Epidural or put me under a general anaesthetic.  I remember thinking, "Please God, put me under, knock me out, stop it hurting, stop it all, I don't want to be aware of any of it."

Somewhere along the lines, I told myself not to die.  I genuinely lay there shivering, shaking, trying not to shake, concentrating hard, trying not to die.  It's a very weird feeling to have to tell yourself that.  And know that if you don't tell yourself that it could be a possibility.  I think most people in the room knew that.  I think Andy knew that.  He didn't show it.  I really had to concentrate hard.  I looked at the clock, but don't recall the time.  Concentrate.  Don't fall asleep.

The anaesthetist appeared and told me I was going to theatre and they were going to put me under a general anaesthetic.  I remember the relief.  Thank fuck.  Knock me out and fix me.

At this point they claimed they didn't know I had ruptured.  I think I knew I had probably ruptured.

Another Doctor appeared and explained the risks.  He explained that as a worst case scenario I would have to have a hysterectomy.  I'm 28.  I don't remember having feelings either way about that.  At 28.  I didn't care.  I wanted the pain to stop.  I wanted to sleep.

I knew I would have to sign.  I remember Andy asking if he could sign for me and being told no.  I wanted to tell him off - of course you can't sign for me!  I told them to put the pen in my hands.  I signed.  I want to see that signature - not because I don't feel I accurately consented, because I really did, I really wanted to be fixed.  I want to see it because apparently it was hilariously lopsided!

I remember being wheeled off to theatre.  Andy was there, he followed.  He said goodbye once, at the door of the delivery room.  Room 5.  I remember relief, goodbye my love, see you on the other side.  I could concentrate on theatre.  But he followed, and I had to say goodbye again, and the second time was harder.

The bright lights of theatre hit me.  How did I end up here?  How did it go this wrong?  No time for that.

"Slide yourself over onto the table".  I remember thinking this was fucking ridiculous.  I've probably ruptured my uterus.  I've had loads of gas and air, I'm still in shock, my body is still shivering.  But you want me to edge myself over.  I remember the table being too thin.  I was having to consciously hold my arms up because if I'd let them fall, they were full of lines and I didn't want to pull any out and have to go through all that again.  I remember a midwife getting attachments for the side of the table for my arms, that was a relief, I could relax slightly

I pulled my hairclips out.  My trademark quiff was no more.  I remembered from having Scarlett that they put a current through you or something so you couldn't have any metal about your person.  I was waving these hairclips around for someone to take.  No one cared.  I should've dropped them.  Eventually lovely midwife in charge took them from me.  I then started worrying about my wedding ring.  I was glad I hadn't worn my engagement ring.  I didn't want my wedding ring to go.  Lovely midwife taped it onto my finger.

Oxygen mask.  It's funny the things you forget.  Fucking oxygen mask, horrible, I kept moving it, trying to take it off.  I think they must have removed it around now in theatre.  Because it was time to sleep.  Blessed sleep, sweet relief.

I don't remember counting back from 10.  They probably didn't do that.  I just remember going....

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