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.
Thursday, 2 January 2014
Itchy Liver - Part Two - The Rest of the Context
*DISCLAIMER* This post was originally written when I thought I was going to be induced and that all would be fine and dandy. As many of you now know, things did not go according to plan, but I felt it was important to still post this prior to posting the main birth story in due course as it provides the rest of the context leading up to the eventual events on 17th/18th December 2013.
The post was originally intended to be released to coincide with my being admitted to hospital on the morning on the 16th December 2013.
So, as I said, by Tuesday 10th December and our appointment with the Consultant's team I was so ready to just have the baby here safely, by hook or by crook as Andy had said, the significance of that will become clear...
We finally got to see a Registrar in the team 45 minutes after our appointment time (which always seems to be the case with them!) and explained what had been happening. She explained that having had the itching and a raised liver function meant I definitely had OC and was surprised I hadn't been prescribed anything for it.
She agreed that the best course of action would be to continue to monitor the situation in MAU with more blood tests and monitoring and she would see when the first available slot was for an Elective Caesarean Section. In the meantime, could she please examine me. So off she went to get me a slot whilst I lay on the bed awaiting my fate. She came back 5 minutes later to say that the first slot they had for a Caesarean was the 23rd of December. Right, no thanks. For SO many reasons. Who wants to be in hospital for Christmas?! I have a 5 year old, seeing her at Christmas is one of the most important things ever. She could sense my disappointment and continued with her exam...
Where she was thoroughly surprised and said, "You won't make it to the 23rd!" She did a sweep and asked me to make myself decent again (yeah, I've massively edited all of that!)
After that she said she needed to discuss the options with my actual consultant, who was in a meeting which was due to finish any minute so she went to wait for her whilst we went to see the lovely midwife Zeni from the 'fat clinic'. We felt very encouraged by what the Registrar had said about my innards and so was Zeni. She said she couldn't believe how different I looked to when she saw me before the appointment (when I had resigned myself to a Caesarean)! Zeni booked me in for another sweep on the 19th December and suggested I ask them to do one on the 12th December when I was due back in MAU for more monitoring.
I felt positive things were going in the right direction so felt confident we'd just get the baby out in good time ourselves. The Registrar came back with another option for us. I'd be admitted to the Labour Ward to have my waters broken in the hopes of kick starting me into labour. The date written on her piece of paper was 16/12/13. Oh, that'd be Monday then, less than a week after our appointment! Eeeeek!
She explained that they'd break my waters, let me move around for a couple of hours to try and get things moving and if that didn't work, they'd stick me on a Syntocinon drip. Oh, what now? Syntocinon? Yeah, fake hormones. The stuff that the whole way through my pregnancy had been a massive red flag to pretty much everyone because of the strain it could put on my scar. And yet, here we were actively agreeing to it. I mentioned to the Registrar I was worried about this and she said it would be in tiny amounts just to speed things along a little.
I said how my plan had always been to try a natural approach to pain relief and I was worried the Syntocinon was going to amp things up to a level where I had no option but to have an Epidural. She appreciated this but also said that an early Epidural would probably be recommended in case I have to have a Caesarean which she assured me, they would try to do in daylight hours when the full complement of staff would still be available.
Wait, what now?! Hmmm. Yes, alarm bells probably should be ringing, which is what led me to be writing this post. It would seem that basically this 'Induction' is a way of me bypassing the Elective Section list. By agreeing to an induction (something I'm actually not opposed to because I'm hoping my body does the right thing and goes into labour so I can achieve my VBAC) I am basically then classed as an 'Emergency Section' when things don't progress.
So here's what I understand will be happening tomorrow (Monday 16th December 2013 remember)...
*REMINDER: This was all written on Sunday 15th December 2013, the night before I was due to have my induction. For reasons that I shall explain in due course, none of it went according to plan.*
The post was originally intended to be released to coincide with my being admitted to hospital on the morning on the 16th December 2013.
So, as I said, by Tuesday 10th December and our appointment with the Consultant's team I was so ready to just have the baby here safely, by hook or by crook as Andy had said, the significance of that will become clear...
We finally got to see a Registrar in the team 45 minutes after our appointment time (which always seems to be the case with them!) and explained what had been happening. She explained that having had the itching and a raised liver function meant I definitely had OC and was surprised I hadn't been prescribed anything for it.
She agreed that the best course of action would be to continue to monitor the situation in MAU with more blood tests and monitoring and she would see when the first available slot was for an Elective Caesarean Section. In the meantime, could she please examine me. So off she went to get me a slot whilst I lay on the bed awaiting my fate. She came back 5 minutes later to say that the first slot they had for a Caesarean was the 23rd of December. Right, no thanks. For SO many reasons. Who wants to be in hospital for Christmas?! I have a 5 year old, seeing her at Christmas is one of the most important things ever. She could sense my disappointment and continued with her exam...
Where she was thoroughly surprised and said, "You won't make it to the 23rd!" She did a sweep and asked me to make myself decent again (yeah, I've massively edited all of that!)
After that she said she needed to discuss the options with my actual consultant, who was in a meeting which was due to finish any minute so she went to wait for her whilst we went to see the lovely midwife Zeni from the 'fat clinic'. We felt very encouraged by what the Registrar had said about my innards and so was Zeni. She said she couldn't believe how different I looked to when she saw me before the appointment (when I had resigned myself to a Caesarean)! Zeni booked me in for another sweep on the 19th December and suggested I ask them to do one on the 12th December when I was due back in MAU for more monitoring.
I felt positive things were going in the right direction so felt confident we'd just get the baby out in good time ourselves. The Registrar came back with another option for us. I'd be admitted to the Labour Ward to have my waters broken in the hopes of kick starting me into labour. The date written on her piece of paper was 16/12/13. Oh, that'd be Monday then, less than a week after our appointment! Eeeeek!
She explained that they'd break my waters, let me move around for a couple of hours to try and get things moving and if that didn't work, they'd stick me on a Syntocinon drip. Oh, what now? Syntocinon? Yeah, fake hormones. The stuff that the whole way through my pregnancy had been a massive red flag to pretty much everyone because of the strain it could put on my scar. And yet, here we were actively agreeing to it. I mentioned to the Registrar I was worried about this and she said it would be in tiny amounts just to speed things along a little.
I said how my plan had always been to try a natural approach to pain relief and I was worried the Syntocinon was going to amp things up to a level where I had no option but to have an Epidural. She appreciated this but also said that an early Epidural would probably be recommended in case I have to have a Caesarean which she assured me, they would try to do in daylight hours when the full complement of staff would still be available.
Wait, what now?! Hmmm. Yes, alarm bells probably should be ringing, which is what led me to be writing this post. It would seem that basically this 'Induction' is a way of me bypassing the Elective Section list. By agreeing to an induction (something I'm actually not opposed to because I'm hoping my body does the right thing and goes into labour so I can achieve my VBAC) I am basically then classed as an 'Emergency Section' when things don't progress.
So here's what I understand will be happening tomorrow (Monday 16th December 2013 remember)...
- I'll have my waters broken - hopefully labour will start by itself at that point (It bloody better do!!)
- If that doesn't work, I'll be put on a Syntocinon drip - at which point my brain starts to panic because I worry that'll be too painful to cope with on Natal Hypnotherapy and Entonox alone.
- If that doesn't work, I'll be taken in for a Caesarean - not overly worried about this, just the implications it has; staying on a very busy ward for 2 days afterwards (6 beds to the ward, too many in my opinion) and not being able to get into town later in the week to finish my Christmas shopping (PRIORITIES!!!)
So it's all left me in a funny old mood today.
Excited - tomorrow, (by hook or by crook...) we'll be meeting our son finally. They aren't going to 'let me' (another blog post for another time) labour for too long, especially not if I've had Syntocinon because they won't want the scar to be put under too much duress. My one saving grace might be the Midwife assigned to me in the morning, when we visited the Labour Ward the Midwife who showed us round said they'll do their best to help me achieve a VBAC - they try to keep the doctors at arm's length (not sure whether that will still apply tomorrow...!)
Sad - I'm going to miss my bump. My funny shaped bump (and Lord knows I have had bump envy!!). I'm going to miss the movements, and wriggles and hiccups. The things that were shared just between me and our boy. It's been the bane of my life at times - not being able to move comfortably, not being able to sleep on my back, the FUCKING INDIGESTION!! But I am going to miss it when it's not there to stroke and comfort me (and be a good excuse for being slightly lazy....!!)
Scared (nay terrified at times) - I've never experienced labour before. I've been having Braxton Hicks so I know how they'll feel but just not what the pain will be like. What if I do have to have the Syntocinon, will it make it all unbearable? Will I be able to cope? Will I be a puddle of the floor begging for an Epidural?
And actually, as I write this, I'm able to answer each of my own questions. So what if I have an Epidural? Well I suppose because if I have an Epidural I then can't move which means labour might slow down to a progression that they're not happy with which will lead to me having a Caesarean. But what does it matter if I have a Caesarean? I coped with one before and will cope with one again. As long as he's safe and healthy.
And actually, as I write this, I'm able to answer each of my own questions. So what if I have an Epidural? Well I suppose because if I have an Epidural I then can't move which means labour might slow down to a progression that they're not happy with which will lead to me having a Caesarean. But what does it matter if I have a Caesarean? I coped with one before and will cope with one again. As long as he's safe and healthy.
And that's the one overriding thought I need to carry with me tomorrow, as long as he's safe and healthy. Sod me, sod my foof, sod my tummy getting cut open again. As long as he's safe and healthy.
So think of me today readers, pray for a speedy delivery. Hope for me that I'm one of these lucky ladies who has quick labours! Fingers crossed they don't have to intervene too much and slow it down too much.
Above all, pray for us that he's safe and healthy.
Catch you all on the flipside.....
*REMINDER: This was all written on Sunday 15th December 2013, the night before I was due to have my induction. For reasons that I shall explain in due course, none of it went according to plan.*
Sunday, 15 December 2013
Itchy Liver - Part One
I've had a funny couple of weeks. I stopped work on the 26th November, just over 2 weeks ago. I managed to get most things sorted in the couple of days following that, buying all the bits I needed for my hospital bag (giant nightie from Evans - check!!) and generally had a busy few days with school fairs, drama finales and labour ward tours (never did write about that...)
Then came the sickness. It started with excruciating pain between my shoulder blades which kept me awake most of Sunday night. The pain literally took my breath away at times and I genuinely could feel my resolve to have a natural birth ebbing away from me, "How can I birth a baby naturally if I can't even cope with chronic indigestion?!"
By Monday morning I was a bit of a mess and begged Andy to stay at home with me that day. He got Scarlett off to school and prepared to go to a work call from here, meanwhile I was glugging Gaviscon and Peppermint tea on the birth ball and praying for the pain to go away. I even called Labour Ward because I had no idea whether I should be worried. They weren't worried and told me it didn't sound obstetric and to go A&E. Oh. No sooner had I hung up the phone to them, the pain started to ease, and finally by 8:30ish I felt normal again. I sent Andy off on his call and sat on the sofa watching The Goonies. I managed to stay awake until 1ish to pick up from the station and then came home and promptly fell asleep.
Then the itching started. I woke at about 6:00pm itching all over, but especially on my hands and feet. Oh shit. I immediately did a Google for Obstetric Cholestasis and decided that was what I had. I kept mostly quiet to Andy that night despite itching like mad all night long. By the time his alarm went off at 5:30 I felt terrible asking him to take another day off work but I really thought I needed to get it checked, not least of all because I hadn't really felt bub move since the previous evening and panic had set in about that. I called Labour Ward who took my details and advised me to go straight to the Maternal Assessment Unit for 8:30.
I managed to get myself into the shower and dressed, worrying the whole time about bub. The previous evening when I'd looked it up, the only thing which popped out was, "It can only usually be cured by giving birth" and I immediately started preparing myself for a caesarean. We had seen the two theatres up on Labour Ward the previous week and I was in some ways thankful, I could clearly picture where our baby might be born and the process that would take place. I reconciled myself to this pretty quickly. Which probably all sounds so bloody melodramatic but I was pooping myself with worry!
Long story short, we went to MAU, they did bloods and monitoring of the baby which was all good. We then spent the afternoon running around buying Moses basket mattresses and picking up the car seat base, both essential items we still hadn't sorted but figured we might need by the weekend! I then proceeded to spend the next 2 days in MAU each morning for bloods (I had to go again on the Thursday as they also needed to do a full blood count to check my platelets which they'd forgotten to take on the Wednesday!)
So what is Obstetric Cholestasis (OC)? As far as I can understand it's to do with bile salts and liver function. I still don't understand the ins and outs of it but everything pointed to me having it. My bloods came back that my bile salts were okay but my liver function was raised. Apparently as soon as you have the itching and raised liver function, they class you as having it. Though I wasn't told that until this week and finally prescribed tablets - one set to help with the liver, Vitamin K to help with clotting (as it can cause your platelets to drop) and Piriton to help the itching.
I'm pleased the report that with regards to the latter I haven't itched since the weekend, I felt okay by last Wednesday but did have another bout over the weekend which thankfully was nowhere near as intense and was mainly just my arms and feet.
So by the time it got to Thursday 5th December I had my mind set that I would ultimately probably be having a caesarean to get the baby out and stop anything going further wrong with my liver. I requested an appointment with the Consultant's team to discuss my options which was booked for Tuesday 10th December.
Back to MAU on Monday 9th December feeling absolutely fine, shortest trip there yet! Good trace on the baby, although they thought he was possibly squeezing the cord after each movement which was worrying them but he soon stopped and I was released!
Then came Monday evening... I just really was not well at all and I think we'll leave it there...!
So come Tuesday afternoon and my appointment with the Consultant's team I was ready to get this baby out....
Part Two of my Itchy Liver Adventures will be posted at 8:30am on Monday 16th December so do check in if you want to hear more....
Then came the sickness. It started with excruciating pain between my shoulder blades which kept me awake most of Sunday night. The pain literally took my breath away at times and I genuinely could feel my resolve to have a natural birth ebbing away from me, "How can I birth a baby naturally if I can't even cope with chronic indigestion?!"
By Monday morning I was a bit of a mess and begged Andy to stay at home with me that day. He got Scarlett off to school and prepared to go to a work call from here, meanwhile I was glugging Gaviscon and Peppermint tea on the birth ball and praying for the pain to go away. I even called Labour Ward because I had no idea whether I should be worried. They weren't worried and told me it didn't sound obstetric and to go A&E. Oh. No sooner had I hung up the phone to them, the pain started to ease, and finally by 8:30ish I felt normal again. I sent Andy off on his call and sat on the sofa watching The Goonies. I managed to stay awake until 1ish to pick up from the station and then came home and promptly fell asleep.
Then the itching started. I woke at about 6:00pm itching all over, but especially on my hands and feet. Oh shit. I immediately did a Google for Obstetric Cholestasis and decided that was what I had. I kept mostly quiet to Andy that night despite itching like mad all night long. By the time his alarm went off at 5:30 I felt terrible asking him to take another day off work but I really thought I needed to get it checked, not least of all because I hadn't really felt bub move since the previous evening and panic had set in about that. I called Labour Ward who took my details and advised me to go straight to the Maternal Assessment Unit for 8:30.
I managed to get myself into the shower and dressed, worrying the whole time about bub. The previous evening when I'd looked it up, the only thing which popped out was, "It can only usually be cured by giving birth" and I immediately started preparing myself for a caesarean. We had seen the two theatres up on Labour Ward the previous week and I was in some ways thankful, I could clearly picture where our baby might be born and the process that would take place. I reconciled myself to this pretty quickly. Which probably all sounds so bloody melodramatic but I was pooping myself with worry!
Long story short, we went to MAU, they did bloods and monitoring of the baby which was all good. We then spent the afternoon running around buying Moses basket mattresses and picking up the car seat base, both essential items we still hadn't sorted but figured we might need by the weekend! I then proceeded to spend the next 2 days in MAU each morning for bloods (I had to go again on the Thursday as they also needed to do a full blood count to check my platelets which they'd forgotten to take on the Wednesday!)
So what is Obstetric Cholestasis (OC)? As far as I can understand it's to do with bile salts and liver function. I still don't understand the ins and outs of it but everything pointed to me having it. My bloods came back that my bile salts were okay but my liver function was raised. Apparently as soon as you have the itching and raised liver function, they class you as having it. Though I wasn't told that until this week and finally prescribed tablets - one set to help with the liver, Vitamin K to help with clotting (as it can cause your platelets to drop) and Piriton to help the itching.
I'm pleased the report that with regards to the latter I haven't itched since the weekend, I felt okay by last Wednesday but did have another bout over the weekend which thankfully was nowhere near as intense and was mainly just my arms and feet.
So by the time it got to Thursday 5th December I had my mind set that I would ultimately probably be having a caesarean to get the baby out and stop anything going further wrong with my liver. I requested an appointment with the Consultant's team to discuss my options which was booked for Tuesday 10th December.
Back to MAU on Monday 9th December feeling absolutely fine, shortest trip there yet! Good trace on the baby, although they thought he was possibly squeezing the cord after each movement which was worrying them but he soon stopped and I was released!
Then came Monday evening... I just really was not well at all and I think we'll leave it there...!
So come Tuesday afternoon and my appointment with the Consultant's team I was ready to get this baby out....
Part Two of my Itchy Liver Adventures will be posted at 8:30am on Monday 16th December so do check in if you want to hear more....
Thursday, 21 November 2013
Fear of Faffing
It's a topic that is quite emotive. The Birth I Want. The Birth I Deserve. Or sadly for some, The Birth I Wish I'd Had/Been Allowed.
To clarify, I had a Caesarean section with Scarlett as she was breech. With hindsight, I think she was probably slightly premature. I think I was naive and terrified and I wish I had waited, or tried, to turn her. I was going to be 'allowed' a water birth last time (although as my husband helpfully points out, every time I give a death glare to my consultant when I complain for the hundredth time that I wanted a water birth, the hospital I was booked into last time only had one birthing pool, so the chances of me actually getting one would've been slim!!)
I think ultimately, I know, and I have to trust every instinct in my body, that our boy will get here safely, one way or the other. I have to believe this. I have to put faith in the fact that all will go according to plan. And if it doesn't go according to my plan, which is to have him 'naturally', he will get here just as fine through the sunroof as Scarlett did before him.
But if it does all go according to plan, I have massive misgivings about going into labour, because I just don't know what to expect. It's weird, I know once I'm in labour what my plan is; stay at home, bathe as long as my waters haven't gone, walk, breath, chant, sing. It's a routine I have practised over and over in my head. That I will stay here at home for as long as I can. For as long as the lure of gas and air stays out of my mind! The fear of monitoring and 'faffing', as I have termed all the shit they're likely to inflict on me at hospital, makes this plan exciting. My plan to try and defy the system, to prove them wrong, to prove that I can have a natural birth, despite my previous caesarean and my high BMI. Might I possibly become an 'Oopser' or will our baby be BBA (Born Before Ambulance)?
My fear of faffing, is greater than my fear of giving birth. In some ways, that's glorious, for I do not fear birth, but in other ways, it's troubling, that faffing has become such a byword for me for unnecessary intervention, that I fear that the most.
In spite of my fear of faffing, there's still that niggle in the back of my mind. What if you rupture? What if he's in distress and you don't know? What if, what if, what if? I try to answer all my niggles with the response, "My instinct will tell me." My inner monkey will tell me. Surely?! Right?! I'm sure no one can give me an answer either way.
Those who have read Ina May Gaskin and others like her (although, her book is the only one I've had time to read) will agree, instinct and inner mammal will tell me. Those slightly more favourable of CEFM and generally, keeping tabs on a fat VBAC bird (which is honestly how consultants make me feel), will disagree, and suggest that I come in to be monitored right away. I can, honestly, see both points of view.
It's no secret that I would like, one day, to retrain as a midwife. I'm therefore not completely stupid as to why CEFM is practiced (half because it is useful, and half because our poor midwives are so overstretched, it helps them look after 3 women at once, at least, that's the conclusion I have come to). However I think I want for some utopian vision of birth and midwifery care, where mothers do see the same midwife during both antenatal care, birth and postnatal care. It's something that I know isn't going to suddenly change overnight and it's certainly not something that is going to change in the next month before I give birth.
I think because I so desperately want to just be with one lovely midwife during birth, that I sort of worry about going into hospital and submitting to some of the faffing with different midwives and consultants. I know the midwives aren't doing it to be mean (at least, I would hope not!) but because they're sort of under orders to. If there was just one of them to every woman in labour, apart from there being a hell of a bill to pay, I do kind of feel that maybe intervention rates would go down because they have more time to watch and listen (and in some cases, possibly learn?) to labouring mothers and spot the signs of complications a bit sooner, or at least, a bit more compassionately than a machine currently does.
It is that fear of the faffing that puts me ill at ease with the whole process which lay before me. I don't want a pre-sited IV, I don't particularly want monitoring, I certainly don't want induction or augmentation of labour, but that is my own personal choice and surely, as we're told regularly, we're meant to have a choice in childbirth these days.
I know deep down, I've read it and seen it and truly believe it, staying upright, moving about, kissing my husband, mooing like a cow; all those 'hippy' things, will help my labour progress without the need for fake hormones and IV lines and being 'strapped to the bed' as I term it. Sorry to anyone who believes in all these things, but to me I personally just find them all a bit unnecessary and terrifying (in my case).
I do have one secret weapon in my war against the faffing - my husband. My darling man has diligently read Ina May's Guide to Childbirth on the bus this week. Whilst it has made for an hilarious anecdote; he turned the page to be confronted with a naked, crowning, fully pubed mother in a state of pure ecstasy during birth (ah, orgasmic birth, another post for another time...) which had him hastily turning pages in search of sanctuary from any funny looks it might have garnered! But aside from naked ecstatic mothers, he says he's learnt a lot. About kissing, about positions etc. He now has a completely different take on CEFM to the one he had before (he was quite pro, he felt it was the safest thing, Ina May has turned him) and generally feels ready to ask for peace, and calm, and dimmed lights. To ask for time before being rushed into anything and to help me get the best out of labour. He knows it's become quite important for me to have my 'hippy' labour and birth.
When I sit back and I try to visualise the task which lay ahead of me, I see two very distinct things; being here, in our bedroom, pacing, breathing, swaying, and then I see myself in hospital, moments after pushing our son out, eyes wide with awe and wonder and what I've just achieved and marvelling at our boy. I get almost crazy excited and tearful when I think of the latter. Because I know I can do this, I CAN do this. With Andy by my side, and Ina May in my heart, I can do it.
Tuesday, 19 November 2013
Ready as I'll ever be?!
I'm 35 weeks pregnant today. That means that in no more than 7 weeks, we will have our baby boy here. As you may recall, if I get to 41 weeks it's game over and straight into theatre. I am seriously hoping it doesn't come to that.
I finish work in just over a week now. In real terms I actually only have 5 full days in the office, by the time I've done a half day Thursday for antenatal classes (more on that later) and another half day on Tuesday for a Consultant appointment. That's such a lovely feeling, so close, and yet, still so far as I feel I have quite a lot to finish off. I'm trying to hand quite a lot of stuff over but I'm feeling slightly guilty as the team are already creaking slightly under the pressure. But anyway, screw work...!
I was lying in bed this morning, feeling bub moving about, thinking about his imminent birth and as I got in the shower, I thought how strange it's going to be in a few weeks time to call myself a mother of two.
Which still feels alien to me. 5 and a half years down the line and I still find it odd to be called 'mummy'. Which probably sounds like a really horrible, bitchy, selfish thing to say, but I find myself in an odd sort of limbo - half stuck between my uni days (I had only graduated 18 months before I had Scarlett) and half stuck between the generation of mothers at Scarlett's school. That's not to be rude either, they all seem nice enough, but they grew up in a different time to me and when I'm never at the school gate, I feel quite alienated and distant from being a mum.
I'm hoping next year I can try and lose some weight, have a bit more confidence and generally get out there a bit more. Maybe I'll feel more like a 'mum'?! I think being at home, on my own, with bub and having to fend for myself will probably make this all feel a bit more real. It really is a bit like being a first time mum. Last time we sort of lived in one room upstairs, and Andy was there all the time as he was caring for his mum. So it was more like being a couple of teenagers with a baby than it was being 'grown ups' with a baby.
That probably sounds really stupid, but I think that's what I'm so looking forward to this time. Being a grown up. Having the whole house to ourselves and our family. It being 'proper'. Being a housewife, doing the school run, meeting other mummy friends for coffee (because thankfully this time I have a few, I'll post about it separately).
'Proper' seems such a daft word to use, like my weird ideal of having a family wasn't quite right last time. Heck, it kinda wasn't in any way, shape or form. It's why I've been so obsessed this time; having a proper bump, feeling him wriggling, doing antenatal classes, getting a nice new pram all for ourselves. I feel sure we won't have any more, for various reasons, I feel I'm just going to be happy and blessed with two. So I guess that has added to the desire of it being 'proper' this time.
It's probably also why a new epithet should be invented for what I've become, Mumzilla, maybe, or a Pregzilla anyway. Determined to have it my own way and make it all 'just so'.
This time has been so monumentally different. It really has been like a first pregnancy in some ways. I've ended up seeing our boy 6 times through various scans, had multiple midwife and consultant appointments (although sometimes I wish I could just go for a coffee with the specialist midwife I see, she's just brilliant, I wish it was her who would be there when I give birth...!), started antenatal classes, fully prepared a space for him, and clothes, and toys and just generally, I feel quite prepared.
Or do I?!
I finish work in just over a week now. In real terms I actually only have 5 full days in the office, by the time I've done a half day Thursday for antenatal classes (more on that later) and another half day on Tuesday for a Consultant appointment. That's such a lovely feeling, so close, and yet, still so far as I feel I have quite a lot to finish off. I'm trying to hand quite a lot of stuff over but I'm feeling slightly guilty as the team are already creaking slightly under the pressure. But anyway, screw work...!
I was lying in bed this morning, feeling bub moving about, thinking about his imminent birth and as I got in the shower, I thought how strange it's going to be in a few weeks time to call myself a mother of two.
Which still feels alien to me. 5 and a half years down the line and I still find it odd to be called 'mummy'. Which probably sounds like a really horrible, bitchy, selfish thing to say, but I find myself in an odd sort of limbo - half stuck between my uni days (I had only graduated 18 months before I had Scarlett) and half stuck between the generation of mothers at Scarlett's school. That's not to be rude either, they all seem nice enough, but they grew up in a different time to me and when I'm never at the school gate, I feel quite alienated and distant from being a mum.
I'm hoping next year I can try and lose some weight, have a bit more confidence and generally get out there a bit more. Maybe I'll feel more like a 'mum'?! I think being at home, on my own, with bub and having to fend for myself will probably make this all feel a bit more real. It really is a bit like being a first time mum. Last time we sort of lived in one room upstairs, and Andy was there all the time as he was caring for his mum. So it was more like being a couple of teenagers with a baby than it was being 'grown ups' with a baby.
That probably sounds really stupid, but I think that's what I'm so looking forward to this time. Being a grown up. Having the whole house to ourselves and our family. It being 'proper'. Being a housewife, doing the school run, meeting other mummy friends for coffee (because thankfully this time I have a few, I'll post about it separately).
'Proper' seems such a daft word to use, like my weird ideal of having a family wasn't quite right last time. Heck, it kinda wasn't in any way, shape or form. It's why I've been so obsessed this time; having a proper bump, feeling him wriggling, doing antenatal classes, getting a nice new pram all for ourselves. I feel sure we won't have any more, for various reasons, I feel I'm just going to be happy and blessed with two. So I guess that has added to the desire of it being 'proper' this time.
It's probably also why a new epithet should be invented for what I've become, Mumzilla, maybe, or a Pregzilla anyway. Determined to have it my own way and make it all 'just so'.
This time has been so monumentally different. It really has been like a first pregnancy in some ways. I've ended up seeing our boy 6 times through various scans, had multiple midwife and consultant appointments (although sometimes I wish I could just go for a coffee with the specialist midwife I see, she's just brilliant, I wish it was her who would be there when I give birth...!), started antenatal classes, fully prepared a space for him, and clothes, and toys and just generally, I feel quite prepared.
Or do I?!
Wednesday, 4 September 2013
The formation of our birth plan?!
Yesterday we had our long-awaited appointment with our consultant.
Cue an hour of waiting in the most ridiculously busy waiting room at St Helier - thank God we didn't have to get Scarlett from school because it was 4pm before we actually went in to our 3pm appointment!
We met one of the Consultant's Registrars. Excuse my ignorance, is a Registrar below a Consultant?!
Let me retrace my steps slightly, I had spent the morning writing a birth plan and doing research. Chatting to a few people on Twitter, people I really respect (and wow, the power of an open Twitter account...!) I felt quite empowered to have a VBAC, I even bookmarked a Doula who I thought about contacting to help us through it.
Then I stumbled across two RCOG (Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists) pieces of guidance.
The first, my word, clearly not written for the general public, the language used was kind of shocking. It was their guidance on the Management of Women with Obesity in Pregnancy. To clarify, my booking BMI was 49, it has since come down to around 46.5 It all left me feeling a bit like, why should I bloody even bother trying for a VBAC when they're going to do the 2 things I really don't want them to do; constant monitoring and a pre-sited IV. More on the former later...
The second bit of guidance I read was RCOG's Birth After Previous Caesarean Birth. Figures leapt out at me like, for women with a BMI greater than 30, a successful VBAC is only achieved in 40% of cases. Compared with a 72-76% success rate for a planned VBAC after a single Caesarean. So that's kinda half.
All of this lead to me deciding by 1pm that I was having a Caesarean and that was going to be safest option because it seemed likely I'd end up having an Emergency Caesarean if I even attempted a VBAC and from hearing other people's stories, a planned is very different to an emergency!
So, back to the hospital. We were finally called in to see a lady with a name I didn't quite catch! (We're back again to see the Anaesthetist this afternoon so I might ask!)
I had planned that I would go in and lie and say I'd given it no thought (despite the fact Andy had printed my birth plan and was hiding it in my handbag!). Don't know why I bothered because as soon as she started talking I interrupted her and just blurted out, "I want a Caesarean, it's going to be safest as you're going to hook me up to so many wires I won't be able to move, will just have a slow labour and end up having a Caesarean anyway. You're going to remove my control so I'd rather know that I'm having a Caesarean which I can control!"
She was stunned but then continued with her reasons for suggesting a VBAC. I gave her the 40% figure but she just gave me a look and dismissed it. "But the RCOG said it!" I retorted. Bless her, she continued anyway.
Eventually I shut up long enough to tell her my worries: that I didn't want to be hooked straight up to a monitor so that I couldn't move, couldn't use a birthing ball, couldn't change position, couldn't walk. I told her I've read and seen enough (on telly, to which she rolled her eyes again, hahah!) to know that being on your back, being monitored is basically a fast track to an EMCS (Emergency Caesarean Section). And that I didn't want to be induced and that I didn't want a pre-sited IV - again she sort of pulled a face at that last one but I just said, "Look, you need to get one into me in a hurry, someone will manage it!" To which she smiled.
She explained that I would certainly be able to move off the bed, use a birthing ball and crouch to help ease the pain. I explained I was happy with that outcome as I wanted to try and avoid an Epidural and was keen to try hypnobirthing and breathing techniques alongside a little bit of gas and air. She seemed happy with all these suggestions. The only bit which might hold me back is the birth position, I had hoped to give birth on all fours or kneeling over the back of the bed but she said all fours might certainly be difficult with the monitor. She suggested they could use a clip on the baby's head but again, from hearing other's experiences, sod that!!
She also explained that once I'm 4cm they class it as active labour. She suggested that I stay at home for as long as I feel comfortable and generally speaking, active labour is when you're having 3-4 contractions in a 10 minute time frame. I said to Andy on the way home that we'd buy a paddling pool so I could at least spend my early labour in water! So we have our benchmark on that. (I did say in the evening whilst watching The Midwives on BBC2 - which was quite useful lastnight as they showed a VBAC in a slightly bigger girl, she did well! - what would he do if I had an accidental homebirth in a kid's paddling pool? He didn't seem amused!)
The Registrar went on to explain that they like to see progress of 2cms every 4 hours. So, generally speaking, if I go in at 4cms, get strapped up, I should in theory only be strapped up for 12 hours at most. She said that they will usually allow a mother attempting VBAC to push for an hour before either intervening with forceps or ventouse depending on how far the baby has descended or if the baby is still way up, they'll refer for an EMCS. This in a strange way made me feel better, that the most I would be allowed to struggle on would be 13 hours. That seemed somehow achievable and made me again feel determined (that, coupled with the resolve to labour at home for as long as possible.)
I also stated quite firmly that I wanted my consent to be explicitly sought before anything was carried out (basically because I really don't want a cannula in my hand, it was the worst bit, genuinely, about having Scarlett, it was so restrictive!) This is also the reason that I don't particularly want an Epidural, the cannula and the lack of movement (I did say I would probably be climbing the walls begging for pain relief and she said that was fine too!)
So we agreed the following:
1: Not keen on Induction of Labour
2: Not keen on augmentation of labour if slow progress
3: Happy to be monitored once in active labour (oh go on, if you HAVE to!)
4: ELCS (Elective Caesarean Section) at 41 weeks if no spontaneous labour
5: ELCS if no progress after 4 hours of active labour
Overall I felt quite pleased with the outcome. Andy said he was proud that despite going in all guns blazing, I had pulled back and calmed down enough to shut up and let her speak! We both felt reassured knowing that if nothing has happened by New Year's Eve we'd have a clear deadline (albeit a Caesarean which I still go back and forth in my feelings about!)
Ordered the VBAC hypnobirthing set last night and will look into a birthing ball. Have also decided to try and start maternity leave at 37 weeks so that I can ramp up efforts to get baby out before Christmas. I'm also going to gauge how work feel about allowing me time off on a Tuesday morning to do aquanatal classes - not sure it's going to go down well!
Cue an hour of waiting in the most ridiculously busy waiting room at St Helier - thank God we didn't have to get Scarlett from school because it was 4pm before we actually went in to our 3pm appointment!
We met one of the Consultant's Registrars. Excuse my ignorance, is a Registrar below a Consultant?!
Let me retrace my steps slightly, I had spent the morning writing a birth plan and doing research. Chatting to a few people on Twitter, people I really respect (and wow, the power of an open Twitter account...!) I felt quite empowered to have a VBAC, I even bookmarked a Doula who I thought about contacting to help us through it.
Then I stumbled across two RCOG (Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists) pieces of guidance.
The first, my word, clearly not written for the general public, the language used was kind of shocking. It was their guidance on the Management of Women with Obesity in Pregnancy. To clarify, my booking BMI was 49, it has since come down to around 46.5 It all left me feeling a bit like, why should I bloody even bother trying for a VBAC when they're going to do the 2 things I really don't want them to do; constant monitoring and a pre-sited IV. More on the former later...
The second bit of guidance I read was RCOG's Birth After Previous Caesarean Birth. Figures leapt out at me like, for women with a BMI greater than 30, a successful VBAC is only achieved in 40% of cases. Compared with a 72-76% success rate for a planned VBAC after a single Caesarean. So that's kinda half.
All of this lead to me deciding by 1pm that I was having a Caesarean and that was going to be safest option because it seemed likely I'd end up having an Emergency Caesarean if I even attempted a VBAC and from hearing other people's stories, a planned is very different to an emergency!
So, back to the hospital. We were finally called in to see a lady with a name I didn't quite catch! (We're back again to see the Anaesthetist this afternoon so I might ask!)
I had planned that I would go in and lie and say I'd given it no thought (despite the fact Andy had printed my birth plan and was hiding it in my handbag!). Don't know why I bothered because as soon as she started talking I interrupted her and just blurted out, "I want a Caesarean, it's going to be safest as you're going to hook me up to so many wires I won't be able to move, will just have a slow labour and end up having a Caesarean anyway. You're going to remove my control so I'd rather know that I'm having a Caesarean which I can control!"
She was stunned but then continued with her reasons for suggesting a VBAC. I gave her the 40% figure but she just gave me a look and dismissed it. "But the RCOG said it!" I retorted. Bless her, she continued anyway.
Eventually I shut up long enough to tell her my worries: that I didn't want to be hooked straight up to a monitor so that I couldn't move, couldn't use a birthing ball, couldn't change position, couldn't walk. I told her I've read and seen enough (on telly, to which she rolled her eyes again, hahah!) to know that being on your back, being monitored is basically a fast track to an EMCS (Emergency Caesarean Section). And that I didn't want to be induced and that I didn't want a pre-sited IV - again she sort of pulled a face at that last one but I just said, "Look, you need to get one into me in a hurry, someone will manage it!" To which she smiled.
She explained that I would certainly be able to move off the bed, use a birthing ball and crouch to help ease the pain. I explained I was happy with that outcome as I wanted to try and avoid an Epidural and was keen to try hypnobirthing and breathing techniques alongside a little bit of gas and air. She seemed happy with all these suggestions. The only bit which might hold me back is the birth position, I had hoped to give birth on all fours or kneeling over the back of the bed but she said all fours might certainly be difficult with the monitor. She suggested they could use a clip on the baby's head but again, from hearing other's experiences, sod that!!
She also explained that once I'm 4cm they class it as active labour. She suggested that I stay at home for as long as I feel comfortable and generally speaking, active labour is when you're having 3-4 contractions in a 10 minute time frame. I said to Andy on the way home that we'd buy a paddling pool so I could at least spend my early labour in water! So we have our benchmark on that. (I did say in the evening whilst watching The Midwives on BBC2 - which was quite useful lastnight as they showed a VBAC in a slightly bigger girl, she did well! - what would he do if I had an accidental homebirth in a kid's paddling pool? He didn't seem amused!)
The Registrar went on to explain that they like to see progress of 2cms every 4 hours. So, generally speaking, if I go in at 4cms, get strapped up, I should in theory only be strapped up for 12 hours at most. She said that they will usually allow a mother attempting VBAC to push for an hour before either intervening with forceps or ventouse depending on how far the baby has descended or if the baby is still way up, they'll refer for an EMCS. This in a strange way made me feel better, that the most I would be allowed to struggle on would be 13 hours. That seemed somehow achievable and made me again feel determined (that, coupled with the resolve to labour at home for as long as possible.)
I also stated quite firmly that I wanted my consent to be explicitly sought before anything was carried out (basically because I really don't want a cannula in my hand, it was the worst bit, genuinely, about having Scarlett, it was so restrictive!) This is also the reason that I don't particularly want an Epidural, the cannula and the lack of movement (I did say I would probably be climbing the walls begging for pain relief and she said that was fine too!)
So we agreed the following:
1: Not keen on Induction of Labour
2: Not keen on augmentation of labour if slow progress
3: Happy to be monitored once in active labour (oh go on, if you HAVE to!)
4: ELCS (Elective Caesarean Section) at 41 weeks if no spontaneous labour
5: ELCS if no progress after 4 hours of active labour
Overall I felt quite pleased with the outcome. Andy said he was proud that despite going in all guns blazing, I had pulled back and calmed down enough to shut up and let her speak! We both felt reassured knowing that if nothing has happened by New Year's Eve we'd have a clear deadline (albeit a Caesarean which I still go back and forth in my feelings about!)
Ordered the VBAC hypnobirthing set last night and will look into a birthing ball. Have also decided to try and start maternity leave at 37 weeks so that I can ramp up efforts to get baby out before Christmas. I'm also going to gauge how work feel about allowing me time off on a Tuesday morning to do aquanatal classes - not sure it's going to go down well!
Tuesday, 6 August 2013
Tuneful Tuesday: Kraftwerk
I'm going to introduce one of my (hopefully!) regular weekly topics - Music.
Now, I've said it before, and I will smugly and annoyingly say it again - I have impeccable taste in music....
I know what I like, and I'm not ashamed to hide it and I love talking about it. I have MANY guilty pleasures which I will unashamedly share with you over coming weeks and I'm not going to hide from the criticism and yes, my love for the Beatles may well have to feature over a number of posts because my love for them surpasses my love for most other things (no, I lie actually, because whilst yes, I could live on nothing but the Beatles for the rest of my days, if I didn't have a smattering of Blur, Beastie Boys and 1990s house and drum and bass, I might not make it through....)
And so, maybe I shouldn't say I have impeccable taste, rather I have an eclectic taste. In some ways, I want these posts to serve to help my children in future years understand why mummy has such a ridiculously broad taste in music! Which not even I understand but my love for many bands, songs and genres runs deep in their own special way.
Which brings me onto my first topic: Kraftwerk. Now, I'm going to admit, that I'm not familiar with their entire oeuvre, but today I was listening to Autobahn, in the car, on the way to work, as you do and it reminded me of all those times associated with Kraftwerk in my past. Maybe that's the point of these musical passions of mine, some, though certainly not all, are related to specific times in my past and Kraftwerk is one with a few associations for me.
The first time I remember being aware of Kraftwerk was when my friend first introduced me to them aged roughly 15 or 16. We were big into Orbital at the time and there's a lot of Kraftwerk in Orbital, listening to Autobahn today made me acknowledge this properly.
I then recall my dad producing Kraftwerk CDs from his collection. Well, that was it for me. My dad. Likes Kraftwerk. My dad, whose own musical taste I want to delve into in a future post because it is, quite frankly, staggering the breadth of stuff he's into (and probably where I get my eclecticism from - have I made that word up?!) I really won't delve into his musical tastes as I'll spoil the surprise, but anyway, dad likes Kraftwerk. Okay, cool. Respect.
I'll say again at this point, I'm really not familiar with all their work, but maybe, do you have to be? Do you have to like everything a group has ever done to say you like and enjoy them? I probably only know a half dozen of their tracks, which, lets be fair, accounts for about 3 hours of music, but I do like listening to them. A guy at work once told me he listens to Kraftwerk when he has to concentrate and I know exactly what he means. They're good zone out music.
{As an aside: I'm listening to the Chemical Brothers as I type this; Dig Your Own Hole to be specific. Andy has just appeared and in his usual cynical way has asked, "What IS this you're listening to? Anything with whistles doesn't sit well with me". Ah, my husband, I'll talk about his musical taste another time too....!}
Anyway, back to Autobahn and why I like that track in particular. Andy and I had been together for approximately one month when he decided to buy an Audi 80 2.8l Quattro on eBay. We duly travelled by train from Leicester where I was at uni up to Bedale in North Yorkshire. This car seemed okay and boy did it go like stink (it later transpired the radio was wired in using household wiring blocks and the front wing was stuffed with newspaper but we loved her nonetheless). We named her Suzi (Suzi Quatro, get it?) and our ear worm of choice whenever we were in her was of course Autobahn. Because, yknow, she was German....
So maybe, in conclusion, I only like Kraftwerk because they're a bit of a cliché?! I'm not sure that's the right word (but we certainly thought we were ironic and drole listening to Kraftwerk in the Audi). To be very simple about it, they're pleasing little ear worms. And that, ladies and gentleman, is the extent of my knowledge on Kraftwerk.
Oh, and I prefer Das Model to The Model because of the sexy German lyrics. There, I said it.
Now, I've said it before, and I will smugly and annoyingly say it again - I have impeccable taste in music....
I know what I like, and I'm not ashamed to hide it and I love talking about it. I have MANY guilty pleasures which I will unashamedly share with you over coming weeks and I'm not going to hide from the criticism and yes, my love for the Beatles may well have to feature over a number of posts because my love for them surpasses my love for most other things (no, I lie actually, because whilst yes, I could live on nothing but the Beatles for the rest of my days, if I didn't have a smattering of Blur, Beastie Boys and 1990s house and drum and bass, I might not make it through....)
And so, maybe I shouldn't say I have impeccable taste, rather I have an eclectic taste. In some ways, I want these posts to serve to help my children in future years understand why mummy has such a ridiculously broad taste in music! Which not even I understand but my love for many bands, songs and genres runs deep in their own special way.
Which brings me onto my first topic: Kraftwerk. Now, I'm going to admit, that I'm not familiar with their entire oeuvre, but today I was listening to Autobahn, in the car, on the way to work, as you do and it reminded me of all those times associated with Kraftwerk in my past. Maybe that's the point of these musical passions of mine, some, though certainly not all, are related to specific times in my past and Kraftwerk is one with a few associations for me.
The first time I remember being aware of Kraftwerk was when my friend first introduced me to them aged roughly 15 or 16. We were big into Orbital at the time and there's a lot of Kraftwerk in Orbital, listening to Autobahn today made me acknowledge this properly.
I then recall my dad producing Kraftwerk CDs from his collection. Well, that was it for me. My dad. Likes Kraftwerk. My dad, whose own musical taste I want to delve into in a future post because it is, quite frankly, staggering the breadth of stuff he's into (and probably where I get my eclecticism from - have I made that word up?!) I really won't delve into his musical tastes as I'll spoil the surprise, but anyway, dad likes Kraftwerk. Okay, cool. Respect.
I'll say again at this point, I'm really not familiar with all their work, but maybe, do you have to be? Do you have to like everything a group has ever done to say you like and enjoy them? I probably only know a half dozen of their tracks, which, lets be fair, accounts for about 3 hours of music, but I do like listening to them. A guy at work once told me he listens to Kraftwerk when he has to concentrate and I know exactly what he means. They're good zone out music.
{As an aside: I'm listening to the Chemical Brothers as I type this; Dig Your Own Hole to be specific. Andy has just appeared and in his usual cynical way has asked, "What IS this you're listening to? Anything with whistles doesn't sit well with me". Ah, my husband, I'll talk about his musical taste another time too....!}
Anyway, back to Autobahn and why I like that track in particular. Andy and I had been together for approximately one month when he decided to buy an Audi 80 2.8l Quattro on eBay. We duly travelled by train from Leicester where I was at uni up to Bedale in North Yorkshire. This car seemed okay and boy did it go like stink (it later transpired the radio was wired in using household wiring blocks and the front wing was stuffed with newspaper but we loved her nonetheless). We named her Suzi (Suzi Quatro, get it?) and our ear worm of choice whenever we were in her was of course Autobahn. Because, yknow, she was German....
So maybe, in conclusion, I only like Kraftwerk because they're a bit of a cliché?! I'm not sure that's the right word (but we certainly thought we were ironic and drole listening to Kraftwerk in the Audi). To be very simple about it, they're pleasing little ear worms. And that, ladies and gentleman, is the extent of my knowledge on Kraftwerk.
Oh, and I prefer Das Model to The Model because of the sexy German lyrics. There, I said it.
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