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Birth Story.

My little girl is 8 Months old today. Wow. Where the hell has the time gone?! It’s that old cliche really, everyone says to you “Cherish the time, because it’ll go so quick, before you know it she’ll be walking”

Taken the night before I went in for my C-Section to get my naughty breech baby out!

Now, I just want to add that I WAS HUGE. I loved being pregnant, although I will say the first 12/14ish weeks was tiring, I have never in my life been so tired I used to get in from work and have a little nap until about 6.30pm! I was uber nauseas all the time aswell, only a few actual vomit incidents though. I did however start to eat alot at work (little and often people, little and often) mainly ryvita crackers smothered in Philly cheese and slices of avocado. Yummy 🙂

On the whole I was very lucky – I had a few wobbles where I couldn’t feel my little bean move so we nipped straight down to the hospital to be monitered, and everytime our little performer would give an almighty kick as soon as those pads went on – typical!

So, all was going well. My little bean was an active little thing by and large stomping, kicking and back flipping away all hours through the day and once we started going to antenatel classes she would go absolutly mental to the point where my tummy resembled something from Alien! At my 37 week check, it was a schorcher of a day, the midwife did all her usual checks and asked how everything was feeling whilst having a good ol’ dig around in my pelvis saying she could feel the head…“Errmm are you sure thats a head? Only I’ve had this hard lump under my ribs and I think it could be the head?” Midwife “Really? Where are all of the movements you’ve been feeling”

“Mainly down the bottom, lots of things like turns at the top and elbows maybe? And this really hard lump in my ribs”

“Um. Yes, that is quite hard isn’t it? Let’s send you in for a referal today shall we?”

The referal went similally – I can’t say with 100% certanty that that isn’t a head

So, on the morning of the Royal Wedding (29th April 2011, for those ON ANOTHER PLANET!!) We were sat in the Hospital waiting to see the consultant for a scan to see for sure if it was a head, or a bum. I was bricking it because we didn’t know the sex and I was almost certain we would see by accident – so I couldnt actually watch the scan! But it was a bum. ECV it was ( External cephalic version) so I watched the Royal Wedding bouncing up and down on a gym ball trying to encourage the bean to turn the right way up. The following Wednesday, I had half a day at work and meet my lovely man at home, collected my hospital bag (just in case, ECV sometimes brings on labour) We waited what felt like an age to see the consultant, we went in and got hooked up to the moniter so they could get a jist of her movements and heartbeat. Then came the injection of muscle relaxant and while we were waiting for it to work I got to try the gass and air…first few sucks nothing. My man showed me how it was done 😉 which promptly made me feel all woozie and out of control, which I hate so knew that the gas & air wasn’t going to be my friend.

My time was up and it was time to try to shift this baba, who I forgot to mention on the Sunday felt like she had decided to engage with her bump, dropped nicely down into my pelvis.Comfy.

The first try involved alot of digging in my pelvis trying to get the bum to pop out – it was painful, and uncomfortable and then there was this almighty popping feeling if that makes sense? The consultant and I locked eyes as we both thought she had gone, the scan proved us both wrong. I was gutted, I couldn’t bear anymore of the torture and I was worried if it was making me feel uncomfortable what was my poor baby feeling? Nonetheless we tried for another excruciating 20 minutes, and she didnt budge. We discussed the options but deep down, no matter how anti-cesearean I was I knew it was the only option – there was no way I was selfish enough to risk a normal labour & birth with a breech baby not as my first – no way.

The consultant called me as promised the next morning to let me know our date (originally due the 19th) so I knew it would be pretty soon as they like to do sections before the due date to make sure they aren’t too big to fit out the sunroof – Friday 13th. What. Serisouly? ” Its just another day to us surgeons” okey dokey. here we go. I walked back into work after telling my man (who was not impressed with the date, being King of the Worriers)

Me Sulking (and yes, I had put the pillows at the wrong end of the bed)

and told work that I would like today to be my last day as I needed to sort myself out!!

Fast forward to the 12th, in for our pre op and a quick run down of what to expect, followed by a very emotional last just the two of us breakfast at Frankie & Bennys! We bought a few last minute bits; The cutest duck covered sleep suits, chocolate, Jamacian Ginger Beer and blackcurrent lucazade for the hospital bag.

We went to my Brother & Sister in laws for dinner, had a lovely evening and headed home, I think I cried on the way home.
I was all over the place, I had barely got my head aorund pushing this baby out of my vejayjay to me a section was like admitting I had failed as a mother before I had started properly. I was terrified that this tiny person I had been growing wouldn’t like me, that I wouldn’t like it or that I would break it somehow. I know everyone says this, but I literally had NO IDEA what to do with a baby, I was the one who looked at other peoples and never really got it. I couldn’t hold them to save my life (I’m not kidding) I went rigid and looked petrified all the while looking for someone to take it off me – and now mine was here. BLOODY HELL.



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