Barren Mare

The first few days

Do you hear huffing & puffing?  That's the sound of me trying to scale the crazy learning curve that seems to come with a newborn baby.

I'm finding it a little hard to get a chance to go to the bathroom at the moment, never mind do much else; so when I finally do get around to it, the telling of the birth story is going to have to be serialised.  In any event, a lot of it is already a blur. That's possibly my brain's way of coping with the more traumatic elements. I confess I feel a bit messed up about certain parts of the experience. No doubt talking about it in due course will be helpful- bear with me though, as it has not been the easiest first week. The initial swirl of the hormone cocktail circulating in my system has begun to calm down, but for the first several days home, I found myself crying frequently over anything and nothing.

Matters were not helped by both E. and my dad coming down with a vile case of food poisoning over the weekend, leaving E. in particular totally unable to lend a hand with the baby. Just as my exhaustion peaked, the wee one began experiencing a bad bout of gassiness after every feed; leading to her screaming and crying until the small hours. Of course not having a clue what was going on, I kept interpreting her cries as hunger, feeding her every time I turned around, which naturally just seemed to compound the problem.  By the time she would eventually fall asleep, I would have become a gibbering wreck.

Anyway. We now seem to be back on an even keel for the moment. and I'm only occasionally freaking out with anxiety, interspersed with elation and delight tempered by hit-by-a-bus tiredness. God knows what I am going to do when my parents leave but we'll come to that later. For now, it's back to the climbing the curve, one steep slippery step at a time.

Botany comes home

A very quick post to let you know that we brought our beautiful Botany home from the hospital this afternoon. For those of you who missed the update at Chez Pamplemousse, she was born at last on Wednesday 22 August at 5.15 pm (UK time). 

The full labour and delivery story will be very long and so will need to wait until I have a little bit more time and energy. Suffice to say that it was something of a saga from start to finish. Like all good stories, there were heroes, villians and some weird little interludes and twists in the tale. 

However, the very brief synopsis is this: four hours after being admitted to hospital we started the induction by way of a six hour course of prostaglandin gel. When the gel failed to start labour, I was eventually put on a pitocin drip to get things going.  After various ups and downs over the course of seventeen hours on the drip, I was finally fully dilated. But by that point I was beyond exhausted, and although I tried to push for another hour and half, some further assistance in the shape of some surgical salad tongs was eventually needed to extract my little green baby.

Two nights on the recovery ward in hospital was also rather nightmarish- more on that later- but we managed to get released without too much bother today.  As we left, E. and I shared small chortles of glee  that we were actually being allowed to go out into the world with a real live baby.

I am hoping now that we are home things will begin to go smoothly. Botany herself is doing very well.  I know I am biased but she really is the sweetest little pixie elf of a baby and it is safe to say that both E. and I are completely besotted with her.

Many, many thanks for all your good wishes and thoughts. During what seemed like a never-ending  ordeal, I sometimes reminded myself that people were out there cheering us on, and it helped immensely.  More soon, but I am still very tired, a little sore and right now the wee one needs another smackeral on my slightly besieged boobs. And who am I to deny her anything. 

Drip drip drop III

I cannot believe this.  I am still here.  Welcome to the ongoing Saga of the Labour that Apparently Will Never Begin.

So, we go up to the hospital as planned at 2pm. The traffic is terrible.  It takes over 45 minutes to negotiate our way through town.  The waiting room is  busy and we wait an hour and a half to be seen. The staff appear completely frazzled and when we finally get a room, the midwife is just a little bit short with me.  I explain the situation as she straps on the fetal monitor on me for the third time in the last 40 hours.  I tell we've had enough, that we are increasingly concerned about the lack of progress and the possibility of infection, and that I want to be induced.  She raises her eyebrows and mutters something about the labour ward being "heavingly busy".  Then she goes away leaving me and E. with the steady pitterpatter of Botany's heartbeat.

At long last, a doctor comes to see us.  She carries out the basic checks, confirms the baby's head is well engaged. She agrees with me that it would now be preferable to move things on, by means of a oxytocin drip to get the labour going. Later I see the notes seem to describe this as "augmentation", which seems sort of apt.

But there is a problem.  There are no beds available in the ward, not a single one. It's chockablock. All the women in there are fairly early on in their labouring, and it could be quite some time. OK, we say, we'll voluntarily go to the Other Hospital- which is where the city maternity overflow is usually dealt with. After all, it too is 45 minutes away but that's equidistant, no? 

Ah. But there is a further problem- there is not a single bed available there, either.  No room at the inn.

She apologises. Botany gets the hiccups, a series of rhythmic blats on the monitor.  I try to stay calm for the baby's sake.  What are we meant to do then?  How long are we meant to wait?  If there are no beds now, then when will there be a space for us? 

The answer is, apparently, tomorrow morning.  We have an 8.30 am slot to come in to be induced, which is 56 hours after my waters breaking. Somehow a bed will have magically opened for us, because at that point I will become a priority case. As opposed to just a basket case, which is what I am at the moment. The doctor also gives me the direct number of the labour ward, and tell us to ring later this evening to see if things might have quietened down and if there is a bed for us- but she warns us it is very unlikely and not to count on it. She apologises again and tells me not to worry, Botany looks to be doing very well and all will be OK. I am untethered from the monitor, we pack up and we go home. 

I may ring the ward later, but it's been such a long day already, and we are both pretty tired. Part of me is inclined to try to get some rest and then head up as fresh as possible for 8.30 am.  But I am just a little worried- worried that when we get there, we will somehow be delayed again, turned away, that there is no escaping the dreaded 72 hour time limit or god forbid, beyond.  So if there is a possible space, I am tempted to grab it. 

Either way, I know Botany's birth must come soon. But I feel like we still have such a long way to go and we can't even seem to get out of the starting gate.

Drip drip drop II

Update:  I went back to bed after the last posting for another few fitful hours sleep punctuated by strong contractions every 10 minutes.  We got up about 8am, and I had breakfast and a shower. Then the contractions stopped completely about an hour later and have not resumed.

We're off to hospital in about 15 minutes and I am going to ask for whatever it takes to get this party started properly because I think I have finally reached the end of my tether. 

Drip drip drop

Oh good grief.  Hi! Hello! Would you believe I'm still here?  I did suspect this was going to be a long saga, but...well.  Yeah. Are we having fun yet?

Here's the update.

After two hours of contraction-y spasms, I went to bed yesterday morning about 6am for some shut-eye. When I woke up at 9am, the contraction activity had pretty much totally ceased. Apart from the odd one during day, there was no regular resumption of..anything.  As per the instructions from the midwife, we waited around until early evening, then went back up to the hospital about 7pm.

We waited for about an hour and half, since it was busy and I wasn't exactly high priority. E. and I gorged on the trashy magazines in the waiting room, interspersed by watching a steady stream of women arrive in various stages of labour. My favourite was the girl who just about fell out of ambulance as soon as it pulled up, moaning and clutching her midriff.  It all looked rather...exciting, which sort of added to the general frustration of my lack of anything other than an ongoing trickle of amniotic goo.

When I was finally seen, it was the same drill as previously- only without the internal exam. Blood pressure check, temp check, hooked up to the fetal monitor with the little heartbeat chart churning out beside us.  They gave me a little button to press when Botany moved, and it was fun to see how it corresponded with the spikes of heartbeat accelertion on the monitor.  Halfway through, she obviously got bored and decided to take a nap, since the variable beats flattened out.  My drinking a cup of ice cold water roused her, with three sharp spikes in quick succession. Finally, the midwife also checked my pad to see what was trickling out of me (answer: pale fluid mixed with a garnish of old brown show. Yum yum yum.)

The good news is that all seems well in babyland.  So we had a chat about the next step. Basically, the plan was formulated that if nothing had happened by 2pm today, we were to come back up and at that point, induction was probably on the cards.  Much to my mother's horror, the practice here is that they can leave you up to 72 hours after your waters break before inducing, but I doubt it will come to that, since both the midwife and I agreed it would be better to maybe move things along after 36 hours or so.

And so home to bed by about 10pm. We're both tired and I dropped off to sleep without too much trouble.  And then about 1.30 am, the contractions started again, coming about every half hour.  I was able to sleep through for a couple of hours, but at 3am there was pretty big one which got me up.  It's now nearly 5am, and I've been keeping track- contracting with a certain amount of intensity every twenty minutes or so, although the last two were coming about 15 minutes apart.

So, we'll see.  Given what happened last night, I don't want to hold my breath. But my hope is that things now proceed apace, so that by the 2pm deadline (or before, preferably) I'm actually in well-established labour, and that the induction hanging over my head becomes less of an issue.  However, I'm trying to go with the flow- as it were.

This all reminds me of the time that E. and I had to check out of swanky New York City hotel by 11am, and yet as the minutes ticked down, he continued to tippy-tap away on his laptop and make phone calls- to the point where I was hopping up and down in frustration, hearing the cleaning staff make their way down the hall to our room. This is so typical of E.  It's looking like Botany may take after her daddy in these matters- but she's only little, so we'll make such allowances as we can.

Kersploosh

My waters broke at 12.30am this morning.  E and I had just gotten into bed.  The second he turned out the light, there was a shifting, popping motion inside me and then a sudden, unmistakable gush.  By the time I got to the bathroom, my entire pj bottom was drenched in wet, light pink fluid.  I was absolutely astonished at the sheer volume. Waters breaking doesn't cover it, as it was more like a tidal wave in my knickers.

Cue a certain amount of amusing flapping around- find sanitary pads!  Find old bath towel to soak up amniotic mess! Get blue file with notes and hospital number! Call hospital! Try to steady shaking voice! Roust parent out of bed at rental flat to collect dog! 

I was asked to go up to the hospital for an assessment right then, so I stuffed a folded hand towel down my pants, we threw everything into the car and headed on up, in the dark, lashing rain at 1am.  Fortunately we had a very good idea of where to go, the maternity centre being located directly across from the good ole Ass Con Unit.  I waddled in, trailing a small stream of fluid (or so it felt like) in my wake.

After a half an hour hooked up to a fetal monitor, followed by a peek at the state of my cervix, the verdict is this: the baby is doing fine and I am not dilated at all.  With only some vague, irregular contractions to my name, we were dispatched home again.  The plan is that we go back either when my uterus steps up to the plate with some regular, business-like (read: painful) contractions or else this evening, whichever comes first. 

So back we drove, filling up the car with gas on the way at the amusing 24 hour petrol station. Had a quick snack, rustled up some dry jammies for me and E. collapsed into bed at 3am.

Of course, guess who can't sleep?  Yes, that would be me. Since about 4am I've been having definitive, rather uncomfy contractions coming erratically anywhere from 10 to 20 minutes apart. Just enough that everytime I am about to doze off, there is a new uterine wake up call.  So I suspect I am in for something of a long haul here but on the bright side, at least it seems Botany is on her way very soon.

I'm going to take my dribbly self to bed again for a bit and try my best to catch a few zzz's now. Depending how things go, I may or may not post again before things get really exciting.  But you know, there will be news as soon as there is...news.  Huzzah.

Shoowop duwop when will I pop

Gah. Bah. Still here.  I am beginning to think my guesstimate is not going to become a reality, although admittedly the day is not yet over. Perhaps I am jaded because I have been up since 2am. 

Apart from being slightly psychotic with lack of sleep, I am alternating between frustrated boredom and Zen-like calm. With some major bouts of cranky thrown in for good measure.  I keep reading how adrenaline and anxiety can delay labour. So in other words, to bring this baby on, I need to relax. Oh hahahahaha. See my sides shake with mirth.  My inability to relax is, accordingly to some, is what prevented me from getting pregnant in the first place- let's take a moment to savour the delicious irony of the notion that it also may inhibit the pregnancy from ever being over.

It does appear the baby has dropped somewhat- or at least according to the nice elderly woman we meet almost every day when we take Little Guy for his walk in the local park.  She has five children, and is taking a keen interest in the state of my wellbeing.  Yesterday she assured me, with an impartial eye, that the bump looks a lot lower- I'd be inclined to agree, if only because the searing heartburn I have experienced nightly for the last two months has all but vanished.   

As far as the property thing goes- yesterday my parents and I secured the flat we were after. It was all accomplished with astonishing speed and efficiency (which disappoints me slightly, in that now what will I do for entertainment?).  The plan is that in future they will spend part of the year here, so as to spend lots of time with their grandbaby. And it works out well since they find it too ungodly hot in Florida in the summer months anyway.  We've discovered over the years that we all do better during their visits when everybody has their own space, so they really wanted a flat to call their own and even at the punishing exchange rate, it's a far better investment to buy rather than rent.  As the crow flies, the place they are purchasing is literally the next street over from our house, albeit there is some fencing in the way that will necessitate a funky little detour round the block.

It's peeing it down with rain today which is going to make it hard to go anywhere and I predict serious cabin fever is going to set in later. I guess I should start researching the option of a 'stretch and sweep' since I absolutely predict that is the first thing I will be offered on Monday when I phone the midwife to discuss the lack of progress.  I confess I am not crazy about the idea- has anyone ever had this done and if so would you recommend it?

Hi diddly dee no baby yet for me

Just a quick update- nothing much has happened yet although I continue to feel a gently increasing low draggy sort of ache/crampiness- more so in my lower back than before and I do have the sense that it could all kick into high gear any time now. 

In the meantime, my parents and I have embarked on some whirlwind real estate transactions. They've been looking to buy a place here for a couple of years now, and wouldn't you know it, someplace suitable has actually popped up this very week.  So I have spent the last couple days parrying in the cut and thrust of the Scottish property market, which is actually great fun (if you like that sort of thing, and I do).  It's been exactly the diversion I need to keep my mind off every little Botany-related twinge and mumur.  Now all that remains to be seen is if we can get an offer accepted at the price we want before I go into labour. It's tenterhooks aplenty chez Mare!

In terms of blog announcements when Miss Botany does decide to finally arrive: I have been advised by my friend (you know, the one who popped the sprog a week ahead of schedule and who I gather is already back into size 12 jeans!) that there is internet access available on the ward at the hospital.  I have my doubts as to the viability of this as a blogging solution- but if possible, I will try to post something  on my laptop from there.

Otherwise, I believe I will be able to use my mobile phone on the ward (again according to the friend, who reminded me to pack my charger). Therefore I can send a text to my Scottish comrade, the divine Ms Pamplemousse and her sexy new mobile.  She has very kindly offered to offer an update on her blog.  If all goes really quiet here, it may be worth checking in there to see if is any news.

Roll on 18 August (still my best guess. Not that I am, uh, fixated on it or anything).  Also, I am loving the lovely comments and the sense that people are waiting with me-thank you dear internetters. It does lift the spirits so by all means please keep 'em coming!

Doowah diddy diddy diddy due date

Apart from a few more similar rumblings in the nethers over the last few days, nothing much happening. No news is, er, no news. I am trying not to get overly focused on being due today.  Obviously, nobody has informed Botany, because she shows no signs of making a move.  Or at least not at 4.53 am as I write this- I'm awake having clocked up a whole 3 hours sleep tonight, whoo hoo.

Just to clarify on the appointment situation since I may not have explained that very well- I did have a check at 39 weeks with my GP.  All was fine, no cause for concern. Now. I am due on a Tuesday (today)and unfortunately, the midwife only attends the surgery once a week on a Thursday and there were no appointments for this week- that being week 40 and two days overdue. I'm annoyed because I booked all my appointments a month ago, and the surgery apparently should have scheduled me with the midwife instead of the GP. Yes, I tried to get the midwife to squeeze me in, but they were unable to. We're dealing with the National Health Service and midwifery resources are a little stretched in this area.  Thus hence the best they could do (or were willing to do) was to offer a phone call for the following Monday (40 weeks plus 6 days), with a view to making a plan at that point.

Apart from the Monday phone call, I do have a scheduled appointment for the following Thursday (week 41) but by that point I would be 9 days overdue, and given that they do not generally allow pregnancies to continue much past 10-12 days here, it does not leave much time to sort out scheduling an induction, if it comes to that.  What I don't want to happen is for things to get left until very late only to discover (as happened to a friend of mine) that there were no beds available at the hospital. That is of course something I can and will discuss with the midwife during our Monday call. 

Yes, I could go back to the GP for another check this week, and I will do if I feel the need.  However, the GP will frankly not do much. The routine checks are all well and good, but would be unlikely to tell me anything new.  They don't do internal exams nor will the GP arrange an induction date. Nor would I be referred for non-stress testing, which apparently is not routinely done here, even at 41 weeks.  Basically, they are pretty blase about first time mothers being late- at least up until a point. Also, due to a recent change of staff at the clinic, I'm unfortunately dealing with a particular midwife who by reputation (I've never met her yet) is relatively hands off. Thus she is not desperate to do anything until Monday 20 August at the earliest. No, there isn't anyone else I can go to, except my GP- who wants the midwife to handle things from now on- and so that will not particularly assist. 

Are you rigid with the tedium of it all yet?  I'm probably making it sound worse than it is. The bottom line is that I've sort of fallen through the cracks insofar as my "official" due date does not line up well with the days for midwife clinic appointments. It's sort of crappy, boring and not quite what I had expected but if I have any real concerns, then I can still phone the GP, the midwifery centre or the hospital, so it's not the end of the world.  It just doesn't particularly fit with my modus operandi of plan, plan, plan.

Assuming I do go into labour naturally (yes please) anybody want to place bets on the actual birth date?  My own guess is 18 August. No pressure, though, Botany. No pressure.   

Tra la la still pregnant

My formal due date is not until this coming Tuesday, so strictly speaking I suppose I should not really expect to have given birth yet. Except I was kind of hoping it might happen, say, a day or two ago.  Or tonight.  Or any time now really would be OK with me.

I had struck up a new friendship with one of the women I met at my antenatal classes, primarily on the basis that we were due on the same day.  For a couple of weeks there was a lot of meeting for coffee and phone calls and comparing of notes.  Then earlier this week she texted me to say she was going to have to miss our next coffee date- because she'd given birth to her son the night before. She's already home from the hospital with him. Harumph.  I don't know if its the uber competitor in me or simply the desire to be safely disembarked from the ferry myself- but I am wildly envious. And it's put me in a slightly grumpy frame of mind, and I can't seem to shake it off.

Yesterday I began feeling very crampy in a sort of menstrual way- not exactly waves or anything I could pinpoint as definitive contractions, but not far off it. And it didn't go away when I walked around or lay down. I had just about convinced myself that this was the start of it all- yay- only to have all the symptoms completely vanish after I had a bath later in the evening. Then today- nada.  Again, harrumph.  Yes, I knooooow the baby will come when she is ready but I am fervently hoping that it's not going to be a kind of long,vague run up to the main event followed by a panicked dash to the hospital. 

Also, being late? Not ideal. At the last appointment my GP informed me that after my due date, I should be seeing the midwife instead of him next week.  Except it turns out I can't get an appointment at the clinic with my midwife next week, as she is fully booked. When I asked the receptionist what I am meant to do in that case, she simply canceled my GP appointment and gave me the phone number of the midwife to organise something. Except the midwifery centre has no computer and the person I initially spoke to was totally unable to help as they cannot make appointments themselves.

When the midwife finally phoned me back, she suggested that I "wait until August 20" and if I haven't had the baby by then, then I am to get in touch for a chat and we'll discuss formulating a plan. The third harrumph. I know it's not that far over, but I do find it a bit odd and frustrating that they insist on weekly appointments & checks from week 36, only to leave me hanging for seven days after my due date with no monitoring or clear strategy thereafter.

Anyway. Stand by. E is making a very hot curry for dinner and a long walk with the dog is on the cards, and who knows.  Until then, harrumph.