Neil suggested I take a final bump photo as we were heading off to hospital to be assessed (I was in labour, but we had no idea how far along I’d got). Which was probably a good thing, because the next time I was home we had a baby in our lives.
Labouring at home is definitely better than doing it in the hospital, even if it is the midwife-led birth centre. Once I got there and it was confirmed that I was in active labour, things slowed right down. Which kind of sucked. So I had to have my waters broken and things proceeded quite quickly from there, which I will now lay out in point form (because, do you really need to know all the details in florid prose?).
- Gas and air was only an option earlier on; the valve became really annoying when I was trying to push.
- That said, I was in the birthing pool, so trying to use it over the edge of the pool wasn’t exactly conducive to concentrating on delivery.
- Trying to push is like taking a dump. In fact, I took lots of dumps. There was no magic net brandished to neatly scoop everything away.
- However, Neil has always said that I am full of shite.
- Baby’s head crowning feels like passing a cactus through your unmentionables. I was picturing a succulent I saw / photographed in Xiamen when this was happening. Not very helpful, I’m sure.
- Woo, was that placenta big.
- Getting stitches after a second degree tear is fine until the final stitch goes through a place which the local anaesthetic didn’t quite reach.
- Watching Neil hold and watch Anne (that’s ‘er name) while I was getting stitches was so sweet. You could actually see him fall in love with her.
- Being over-over-tired means a lot of shaking. A lot. As well as an inability to actually relax and sleep.
And for a couple of tangents: yes, Kristen, Fembot is pretty much here. Maternity pads are amazing, but they won’t stop the ginormous blood clots from making an appearance. Apparently only peeing and pooping will do. Every day’s a bloody school day, eh?