I found out I was pregnant in July 2012. Paddy and I had been trying to conceive for a year and half and we'd had one miscarriage (really early on) during that time. So, naturally we were really excited when we found out.
The pregnancy progressed as it always does. The first trimester was filled with morning sickness and food. I've suffered with an eating disorder through most of my childhood and teenage years so I was terrified that I wouldn't be able to eat enough. But it wasn't a problem. I had a good network of people around me and because I was carrying a baby it seemed to be okay.
The morning sickness carried through to the second and third trimesters though. Something I was not all to pleased about and it was accompanied by awful heart burn. I'd take a pint of milk to bed with me each night because it was the only thing that seemed to work. (I tried my best not to take any medication throughout the pregnancy, no paracetamol or anti-acids)
I got pretty bad panic attacks during this time too. I've had something of an anxiety issue before but never panic attacks. I left my job as a shop assistant because it wasn't worth risking both mine and my babies health over. Besides, I really hated working there.
After leaving my job the remainder of my pregnancy was stress free.
On the morning of January the 30th I awoke with some minor stomach cramps. To me, they felt a little like period pain. I'd had this a few times during the last months, so I thought nothing of it and went about my morning as usual. It wasn't until 11 am that I realised this could be it, as the pains weren't leaving. They had grown a little worse but nothing too unusual. My partner and I spent the morning hoping that they would get worse so that we could have our baby. The last three months of pregnancy I'd been ready to meet my son and I didn't know if I could wait the full 40 weeks. As much as I wanted to give him all the time in the world to grow, I was really uncomfortable.
Paddy was called into work at twelve to provide some cover for a few hours. He reluctantly left under the condition I would call him if anything changed.
Around three in the afternoon I became so uncomfortable that I needed to move. I decided that taking a walk to my mums house would be good idea. (it wasn't a good idea!) She only lives two blocks down from me and she would definitely know if these were contractions or not. I didn't make it all the way down to my mums before I had another sharp pain. This one was definitely worse. I was half way up my mum's garden steps before I couldn't move. She came rushing out and helped me into the house.
They were contractions.
Over the next hour they got bad very quickly. My mum had started timing them the minute I'd got through the door. Since I'd arrived the longest I'd gone between contractions was 3 minutes.
My mum, naturally, panicked. She rang the on call midwife, who said that she would ring us back and she rang Paddy who managed to run all the way to my mums house in under ten minutes. Now, when Paddy starts to panic he talks and talks and talks. It was perfectly obvious that he was panicking. I, on the other hand barely noticed a thing as I was a little busy.
The on call midwife did eventually turn up, after an hour of trying to find the house. Just so you know exactly how idiotic this is, my mum lives on the main road. There is no way you couldn't find it if you were looking for it. She then spent about twenty minutes trying to park her car. she was ridiculous. She seemed more interested in writing everything down than actually trying to help me, she hurt me when she examined me and she tried her hardest to convince me to have a home birth.
There were more complaints that everyone else had about her also, but again I was pre-occupied and wasn't really paying much attention. Needless to say we ignored her and headed to our next nearest hospital. (Our local hospital only has a Birth Center and it was closed because there was a problem with the water?!) The drive took about twenty minutes and by the time I got there I had dilated 3 centimeters and my blood pressure was high. It's always a little high so they usually have me monitored.
We were in the labour ward for a further hour before I was told that the best course of action was to have a c-section. My sons heart rate had dropped significantly and he was starting to stress. It was at this point that my mum left to go home. She has since said that she would have liked to stay but didn't mention anything at the time.
My water was broke and I was prepped and sent of to theater where I was given the stronger gas and air and a spinal block before being led down on the table. Paddy was out of the room for that part as he is really scared of needles.
Before they take you in for major surgery they have to read to you the list of any side effects or things that may go wrong during the operation. I was contracting the whole way through this process so payed no attention to any of it. I've been through procedures where they've done this before so I know the drill. Paddy was obviously listening to the entirety of it, and with the whole situation taken out of his hands started to panic further. When I saw him in theater he was crying. He cried the whole way through the operation whilst I was high as a kite and talking complete crap.
Despite this I remember everything. Every little detail. I remember the sensation of them pulling around and I remember the moment when they lifted my son out of me. He was taken into a little side room to be cleaned off and checked properly as we already knew he was having problems. It was at this moment that it all hit me. Still feeling out of it I was convinced that something was terribly wrong with either him, me or both of us.
I later found out that he had not been breathing and it took seven minutes to get him going. He was still not breathing at a pace they were happy with after this so decided he needed specialist care.
Paddy got to see him before he was sent to the NICU for observations but I didn't get to because I was being stitched up.
We spent nine hours in the labour ward before I was sent upstairs to the maternity ward. The nurse very kindly let us stay there so long because Paddy had no way of getting home and he isn't allowed in the maternity ward after visiting hours.
I didn't get to see my son until the afternoon of the next day as all the nurses were too busy to help me down stairs to the NICU. I hated being in the hospital on my own. I've spent so much time in that hospital over the years that I panic every time I get anywhere near it.
My son spent almost two weeks in the NICU before we got to bring him home. Despite his problems whilst entering the world, all of his tests came back normal and he was sent home after thirteen days.
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