Jenster
06-10-2006, 17:16
Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin! It all started at 4am on the Wednesday morning. I awoke to pretty strong contractions, which carried on at 10-minute intervals all day Wednesday, slowing down a bit throughout Wednesday night and picking up again on Thursday morning, til Thursday afternoon when they’d almost disappeared completely.
So we kept our scheduled induction appointment on Thursday evening – I was strapped to the monitor for about an hour or so and then they inserted the gel. Paul and I spent the rest of the evening in the delivery room watching TV until about 10.30pm when Paul decided to go home and I was advised to get as much sleep as I could. However, bub had other ideas because in the early hours of the morning, my contractions kicked off again in earnest! The midwives weren’t too concerned though and heated up my wheat packs for me and packed them in around my back and stomach, bolstered by pillows so that I might be able to get a bit more sleep. Thankfully, I did and Paul came back to the hospital at about 8am the next morning when my contractions were coming at regular 5 min intervals.
I was strapped once more to the monitors for a while so they could keep an eye on bub’s heart rate and my contractions – it was quite entertaining checking out the peaks on the printout chart once each contraction was over. My obstetrician did a check on my cervix to see if he could break my waters, but everything was still firmly closed, despite all the contractions!
Come lunchtime, the contractions still weren’t coming any quicker and so they decided to put me on the Syntocinon drip to speed things along. A couple of hours later, the contractions were coming at minute intervals and where really intense – I was using a birthing ball at this stage, which seemed to help me manage the pain when the contractions hit. At some point I felt a little pop inside, followed by another one shortly afterwards, and then a little flow of liquid (although nowhere near the torrent I’d always imagined!!). The midwife had a look and thought that my waters had indeed broken. At this stage, my obstetrician (after another uncomfortable cervix check which showed no real change) suggested that we might not be able to progress naturally and that a ceasar might be required. I asked him to let me continue on just a bit longer, as the baby’s heart rate was still strong and I really wanted a vaginal birth. He agreed and left us to it.
But, come 3pm when he came back to check on us – still no progress despite the fact that I was having very painful contractions at 45 second intervals. He decided that it wouldn’t be good for either of us to prolong things further, so booked us into theatre for a ceasar. I was so disappointed, but knew it was the right thing to do. I was also absolutely terrified, but decided I wanted to be conscious throughout the procedure. I was allowed to have a quick shower before they came to get me ready for theatre, then I was taken down to meet the very po-faced anaesthetist from hell, who scared me silly by talking about error statistics of epidurals and how I was a big girl so it might be difficult to find the right spot on my back (thanks mate!). Once he was done, Paul was taken off to change into scrubs, I was taken into theatre and they began to prep me for the epidural.
I don’t think I have ever been so scared in my whole life – bizarrely more at the thought of the epidural than the operation itself - but my obstetrician was just wonderful and kept talking to me, explaining what was happening and patting my leg reassuringly until the epidural was in. Then the screen was erected, Paul was sitting in a chair by my head and the operation was suddenly underway. At this point, I apparently went into shock and seemed to lose all perception of time. I was freezing cold, my top half was shaking uncontrollably and I could feel the strange session of pulling and tugging going on in my lower abdomen. Then I felt some pain – not sharp, but I felt it right enough and spoke up. My obstetrician said that baby was less than a minute away from being born and would I be able to hold on for just a bit longer? I said ok, and then suddenly Paul was being told to stand up and have a look because baby’s head was coming out. The obstetrician congratulated us on our baby girl and then I heard it; the sound that I will never forget for as long as I live, my daughter’s first cry. I could hear her, but I hadn’t yet seen her, which was so hard – but then she was brought round to my head so that I could touch her tiny little mucky face and kiss her hello. I knew then and there that I loved her more than anything and would lay down my life to protect her. I was so overcome with emotion and the intensity of feelings that I’d never before experienced and I burst into tears. Poor Paul didn’t know what to do and kept asking me what was wrong because I was shaking, crying and very very pale – I didn’t know what to tell him to reassure him, I just couldn’t speak.
Then Lauren was placed in a humidi-crib and she and Paul were whisked out of theatre. I was sewn up and then placed in recovery for an hour. It was the longest hour of my life – all I wanted was to be with my husband and my little girl. I was piled high with warm blankets and monitored while I was there. One of the nurses was trying to engage me in conversation and I remember being really annoyed with her that I was having to make small talk when all I wanted was to get back to Paul and Lauren, but in hindsight, I realise she was just making sure that I was recovering properly.
Then at long last, I was taken to my room where poor Paul had been sitting holding Lauren for an hour, not knowing what to do with her! The midwives got straight down to attaching her for a feed and then placed her on my chest for that all-important skin-to-skin contact. My poor exhausted little girl finally fell asleep on my chest – it had been a long three days!!
The first couple of days were rough – I had a bad reaction to the morphine that I was given for pain relief, which set me back a day and delayed my getting up and about. But, after seven days in hospital, we were allowed to come home and it’s been a whirlwind of feeds and nappy changes ever since!
Recovering from a caesarean is hard and having previously experienced the pain of recovery from an appendectomy, I was initially worried about how I would cope with the pain of this more severe abdominal surgery and the needs of my new baby – but I think having a little person to take care of diverts your focus away from what you’re physically feeling and you just get on with it.
Although I didn’t get the birth experience I was hoping for, I only have to look at Lauren to realise it was all worth it – every second.
Jen xx :thumbsup:
So we kept our scheduled induction appointment on Thursday evening – I was strapped to the monitor for about an hour or so and then they inserted the gel. Paul and I spent the rest of the evening in the delivery room watching TV until about 10.30pm when Paul decided to go home and I was advised to get as much sleep as I could. However, bub had other ideas because in the early hours of the morning, my contractions kicked off again in earnest! The midwives weren’t too concerned though and heated up my wheat packs for me and packed them in around my back and stomach, bolstered by pillows so that I might be able to get a bit more sleep. Thankfully, I did and Paul came back to the hospital at about 8am the next morning when my contractions were coming at regular 5 min intervals.
I was strapped once more to the monitors for a while so they could keep an eye on bub’s heart rate and my contractions – it was quite entertaining checking out the peaks on the printout chart once each contraction was over. My obstetrician did a check on my cervix to see if he could break my waters, but everything was still firmly closed, despite all the contractions!
Come lunchtime, the contractions still weren’t coming any quicker and so they decided to put me on the Syntocinon drip to speed things along. A couple of hours later, the contractions were coming at minute intervals and where really intense – I was using a birthing ball at this stage, which seemed to help me manage the pain when the contractions hit. At some point I felt a little pop inside, followed by another one shortly afterwards, and then a little flow of liquid (although nowhere near the torrent I’d always imagined!!). The midwife had a look and thought that my waters had indeed broken. At this stage, my obstetrician (after another uncomfortable cervix check which showed no real change) suggested that we might not be able to progress naturally and that a ceasar might be required. I asked him to let me continue on just a bit longer, as the baby’s heart rate was still strong and I really wanted a vaginal birth. He agreed and left us to it.
But, come 3pm when he came back to check on us – still no progress despite the fact that I was having very painful contractions at 45 second intervals. He decided that it wouldn’t be good for either of us to prolong things further, so booked us into theatre for a ceasar. I was so disappointed, but knew it was the right thing to do. I was also absolutely terrified, but decided I wanted to be conscious throughout the procedure. I was allowed to have a quick shower before they came to get me ready for theatre, then I was taken down to meet the very po-faced anaesthetist from hell, who scared me silly by talking about error statistics of epidurals and how I was a big girl so it might be difficult to find the right spot on my back (thanks mate!). Once he was done, Paul was taken off to change into scrubs, I was taken into theatre and they began to prep me for the epidural.
I don’t think I have ever been so scared in my whole life – bizarrely more at the thought of the epidural than the operation itself - but my obstetrician was just wonderful and kept talking to me, explaining what was happening and patting my leg reassuringly until the epidural was in. Then the screen was erected, Paul was sitting in a chair by my head and the operation was suddenly underway. At this point, I apparently went into shock and seemed to lose all perception of time. I was freezing cold, my top half was shaking uncontrollably and I could feel the strange session of pulling and tugging going on in my lower abdomen. Then I felt some pain – not sharp, but I felt it right enough and spoke up. My obstetrician said that baby was less than a minute away from being born and would I be able to hold on for just a bit longer? I said ok, and then suddenly Paul was being told to stand up and have a look because baby’s head was coming out. The obstetrician congratulated us on our baby girl and then I heard it; the sound that I will never forget for as long as I live, my daughter’s first cry. I could hear her, but I hadn’t yet seen her, which was so hard – but then she was brought round to my head so that I could touch her tiny little mucky face and kiss her hello. I knew then and there that I loved her more than anything and would lay down my life to protect her. I was so overcome with emotion and the intensity of feelings that I’d never before experienced and I burst into tears. Poor Paul didn’t know what to do and kept asking me what was wrong because I was shaking, crying and very very pale – I didn’t know what to tell him to reassure him, I just couldn’t speak.
Then Lauren was placed in a humidi-crib and she and Paul were whisked out of theatre. I was sewn up and then placed in recovery for an hour. It was the longest hour of my life – all I wanted was to be with my husband and my little girl. I was piled high with warm blankets and monitored while I was there. One of the nurses was trying to engage me in conversation and I remember being really annoyed with her that I was having to make small talk when all I wanted was to get back to Paul and Lauren, but in hindsight, I realise she was just making sure that I was recovering properly.
Then at long last, I was taken to my room where poor Paul had been sitting holding Lauren for an hour, not knowing what to do with her! The midwives got straight down to attaching her for a feed and then placed her on my chest for that all-important skin-to-skin contact. My poor exhausted little girl finally fell asleep on my chest – it had been a long three days!!
The first couple of days were rough – I had a bad reaction to the morphine that I was given for pain relief, which set me back a day and delayed my getting up and about. But, after seven days in hospital, we were allowed to come home and it’s been a whirlwind of feeds and nappy changes ever since!
Recovering from a caesarean is hard and having previously experienced the pain of recovery from an appendectomy, I was initially worried about how I would cope with the pain of this more severe abdominal surgery and the needs of my new baby – but I think having a little person to take care of diverts your focus away from what you’re physically feeling and you just get on with it.
Although I didn’t get the birth experience I was hoping for, I only have to look at Lauren to realise it was all worth it – every second.
Jen xx :thumbsup: