Birthing Experiences and a Random Irritation

That kind of sounds like I have an itch…Hmm…Just wanted to complain about dealing with teenagers for a minute 🙂  I know I sound like a grouch but for heaven’s sake is there something they get fed in school that turns some of them into whining, ungrateful brats??  I confess, I was probably the same when I was about 15 or so, maybe this is payback.  Since I left school, I’ve always seemed to have some kind of dealings with teenagers, my first “real” job was supposed to be an office job but ended up with me dealing with the teens because I could manage them.  I couldn’t really but I was the youngest staff member so they could relate and some of them did go back to school or make good choices.  But there is always a few.  A few that no matter what anyone does, they have something to moan about.  I’m being quite vague today, aren’t I?  But I sometimes get irritated in a vague sort of way…:)

 Alright so, back to business, now I forewarned you that I was thinking about talking about my birthing experiences.  I love hearing about other people’s but I think it’s the type of thing that only someone who has gone through it can be interested in.  I’ve been trying to think of how I can relay the tale but I’ve hit a bit of a wall so I’m just going to let the rambling do the work!

I have two children, my boy is three, my girl will be 9months on Monday, woo!  While I was pregnant with my boy, I absolutely loved being pregnant, loved being kicked, I did everything right, was extra careful and did absolutely no exercise.  It’s hard to want to move when you resemble a small yet rotund elephant.  I had horrendous morning sickness and crazy back pain straight away that lasted pretty much til I gave birth.  I had a show at 30 weeks, went into hospital for the night, got some steroid injections to help the baby’s lungs develop quicker – just in case.  But it was all part of the parcel, I used to love snuggling into Mr. Claire when the baby would kick hard and the power of them would wake him up, that used to amuse me a lot.  I had a lot of time on my hands because I had to give up work 🙂

At 36 weeks, I got up out of bed at about 1am to use the bathroom.  On the way there, I flooded the floor.  First reaction – what the….?  Second reaction – omfg!  Woke up Mr. Claire who told me to go back to sleep.  Woke him up again, made him look at the evidence.   He nodded and agreed that I didn’t, as he thought, wet mysef.  Nice.  Thanks for that.  He then put on a video of Indiana Jones, got into bed and started snoring again.  Then I started to get pains.  I gave him a quick elbow in the back, he said ok, hold on and found me a pen and a puzzle book, got into bed, went back to sleep.  

 I gave him up as a lost cause and decided to try and time my pains.  I’m not so good with this bit.  It never makes any sense.  A while later the pains became a bit…ouchy.  I woke him up again and said he better bring me to the hospital right now or else.  He rang my mother (who was drunk by the way) and asked her was I serious.  She started giggling (on account of being drunk) and told the rest of the house who got all over-excited.  She told him he better bring me to the hospital right now or else (I presume this was between the hiccuping) and then said sorry, Claire, I can’t go with you, I’m drunk.  Yes, I sort of guessed that when you started giggling.

So he ran around and tried to repack the hospital bag – the bag we had already repacked every week of my pregnancy and still didn’t have ready.  Being two complete idiots, the smallest vests and babygros we brought were aged 3-6 months.  Yes, seriously, like I said we were both idiots and people kept telling me I had to be having twins or a monster of a baby.  Turns out it was neither but people say things, when it’s your first time, you listen.

So we went outside and tried to hail a taxi.  It was sort of hard to do this when I kept doubling over in pain and refusing to move.  The pains were pretty close together, it wasn’t pretty.  Of course, we managed to get the one male taxi driver who had given birth himself…Oh, yes, apparently giving birth isn’t so bad because “we’ve” done it four times already.  Screw you taxi driver, you try dealing with a contracting womb while a dumbass taxi driver talks crap to you.  I wanted to hurt that man…so bad but I decided not to do anything that would affect my chances of actually getting to the hospital.

 This is looking like the longest post ever, sorry about that…

So, we got to the hospital, I’m in bits at this stage, grinding my teeth and muttering something about chopping up taxi drivers, my waters have apparently not flooded my flat enough, they have to embarrass me whilst I’m wearing pale coloured bottoms in the hospital too.  My mother had rang the hospital I think, bit vague on this but whatever, they were waiting for us.  So they hurried me in…then left me in an office.  Um…

We sat in that stupid office with me leaking on the chair for about ten minutes, then someone came in and gave us forms to fill.  Are you freaking kidding me?  I’m about to pop a baby onto your precious faux leather chairs that are easy to wipe down!  They brought me to another room.  Wow, that was such a calming experience.  While we waited there, we could hear the sounds of screaming women all around us.  I’ll never forget those screams, the most terrifying sounds I’ve ever heard.  Ever.  Even scarier than that bit in Salem’s Lot.  We looked at each other, pale faced, I could see that Mr. Claire was just as terrified as me and for the first time in my whole pregnancy, my whole 8 months of vomiting when I drank even water, 8 months of back pain, 8 months of waddling around like a heifer, he looked like he felt sorry for me.  Breakthrough…Seriously…

They took me into a room and examined me.  One foreign student midwife that was an angel in the darkness, one bitchy toerag midwife that I should have punched in the face.  They got sort of panicky when they found out I was prematurely in labour. “Yes, but only a tiny bit premature,” I said.    Apparently that didn’t matter much.  They wrapped all kinds of crap about my stomach, I felt totally strapped down but it was nice to hear the baby’s freaky heartbeat.  I suddenly got the worst pain ever in my life and the student foreign midwife showed me how to breathe through the pain.  The other one sneered at me and said, “Eh, what are you going on about.  You’re not having bad contractions yet.”

 Excuse me??

My one regret is that I didn’t punch her.  Luckily the angel kept me calm, I wanted her to stay with me. Anyway, I told the cranky toerag that actually, yes, yes I was having bad contractions.  She didn’t believe me.  With a bored sigh she asked me did I think I should be examined.  I was like, well duh.  So she *roughly* examined me, made me cry out in pain, then said I was 3cm dilated.  To be honest, I was like, is that it?  But they rushed me down to the delivery room. 

On a side note, my mother was 8cms dilated with her youngest before they agreed to examine her, the tossers.  If they’re busy, they try and persuade women that they aren’t in labour, the mad cows.

So, I had to leave my angel behind and was brought into a nice delivery room.  Peaceful atmosphere, it was quite nice.  There were two lovely midwives with me taking care of me but they strapped me to the bed too.  I would have liked to walk around a bit or something but they were still all panicky for some reason.  The pain got worse – at one weak point I begged for some pain relief.  “Anything, for the love of God, anything!”

They showed me the needle for the epidural.  “Um, actually, maybe anything except that.”  Why would anyone ask for a huge needle in their spine??  They offered me gas and air, bliss…I felt like I was drunk, I had to keep my eyes closed because the room kept spinning.  I was exhausted at this stage.  We got to the hospital about three and it was now 5 or 6 in the morning.  They started to ask me why I was using the air when I wasn’t having a contraction.  To be honest, I was asleep with the thing against my face but they didn’t notice, hehe.

It finally got near enough time to push, the midwives had asked Mr. Claire to take some clothes out for the baby and then left us alone for a few minutes.  In the middle of a BIG contraction, he picks up two vests and asks me which one should he leave out.  “I don’t give two fucks which one you pick, leave me the fuck alone!” I growled.  Actually I must have shouted because the midwives came running back in as if expecting to see a new baby on the bed beside me.

Soon enough, I begged them to let me go to the toilet.  The midwife told me she didn’t think I needed to go to the toilet but I disagreed.  She said she thought I would just have a baby on the toilet but she let me go but I changed my mind at the thoughts of actually moving. 

I soon felt like it was time to push, it’s funny how your body knows what to do.  But I kept it quiet, I needed a few minutes to get used to the idea first, then I called the midwives back in.  They positioned me on my side and made me hold my own leg in the air.  That was mean.  I was tired.  Did I have to do all the work? The pain was pretty bad but pushing made the pain a lot easier, it was like pushing the pain away.

I said before I was an idiot, I meant that, I didn’t even know that you only push during a contraction.  So, armed with some new information, I gripped onto Mr. Claire and focused on him only, I didn’t even hear what the midwives were saying to me anymore.  He told me that they could see the head but everytime I stopped pushing, it went back in a little bit.  I was like “Oh.”  And pushed as hard and long as I could three times, then at 8:08am my son shot out, tearing me completely and sending some sort of liquid – I dread to think – straight into the midwife’s mouth.  I saw this and was like wtf?  I swear, I didn’t even realise the baby was out at that stage, I didn’t even know he was a boy, I was still wondering what flew into the midwife’s mouth.  I didn’t even notice them pull the afterbirth away. But she was nice, she stayed til after her shift to be with me. 

Suddenly the room filled with people.  A doctor brought in about seven students to see my baby who was being cleaned up and dressed.  He was showing them how to check a newborn.  Who, by the way, weighed 7lbs 1oz.  He was beautiful, absolutely gorgeous, I was so blown away, I even let Mr. Claire name him. But I was only allowed hold him for a couple of minutes because they wanted to let the student stitch me up, thanks again for that lads. Mr. Claire got to hold the baby for about two hours while I used gas and air to get stitches. It was horrible and seemed to last forever. There was also a witch of a midwife who kept coming into the room, looking and making faces, I really wanted to hurt this one, especially later when she gave me a suppository (sp?) without even asking. That really pissed me off. Apparently, I’m a very angry person 🙂

They took my baby to the neo natal unit because he wouldn’t feed and he stayed there for two days. It was pretty horrible so I can’t even imagine how the parents of long term residents feel. I asked them could I go home every single day but I had to wait five days before they let me go. They treated me okay in the hospital but I couldn’t wait to take the wee fella home where I could be comfortable. I had a nice surprise because Mr. Claire had finally sorted out the place and it looked lovely with the crib set up and stuff. Even though I was exhausted, I sat up at night just staring at the baby, watching him sleep. I was just amazed by him, it was great. He was totally worth the horrendous pain!

I didn’t even mean to talk about this, I meant to talk about giving birth to my daughter at home! I guess I’ll have to save that one for tomorrow or something. Sorry for the long ass detailed post, it’s the first time I’ve really written about it. 🙂


2 Responses so far »

  1. 1

    cardiogirl said,

    You know this line is my absolute favorite! “…one bitchy toerag midwife that I should have punched in the face.” Priceless!

    Oh that was gripping, claire. Now your son has the recorded story of his birth with your details. I swear I cannot believe your mother was drunk! That’s like something out of a novel!

    You actually made me cover my mouth a couple of times while I read this! I can’t wait to read about your daughter! Good job!

  2. 2

    clairec23 said,

    It’s still my one regret 🙂

    I wanted to write it down lots of times before so that I would have a record of it, I like that type of thing, now I’ll always remember it.

    I know! And at the time she didn’t normally drink on that day of week, it was wierd how their household was all still up and awake at that time of the morning too.

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