The Saga Continues

I was once again wheeled, bed and all, onto the post natal ward. Ward 3 to be exact. It was about 4:30am on Monday morning. I was in a big room with three other new moms and their babies, each person's area separated by a yucky blue curtain. There are no men allowed on the ward outside of visiting hours, so Paul had to go home. It was just me and Charlie, who was asleep in his aquarium. I quickly learned that sleeping on my back was not going to work and instead fell asleep sitting up.

The next day I was told that women who have had cesareans are to stay in hospital for three days not counting the day you gave birth. So I was due to leave on Thursday. Paul visited me everyday and everyday my blood pressure was still high.



It was so awful on the ward! Sharing a room with three other people sucked! Their babies would cry in the middle of the night and set off the other babies. They had loud visitors. They didn't turn off their lights at night. One gal was only 17 and her baby was going into foster care in a few days while she sorted out some legal issue (I eventually heard the whole story as she shouted down the phone at all hours, something to do with a fist fight over some guy) and she was in tears day after day. I hated every minute of being there and just wanted to go home.

So when Thursday rolled around, at last, I was outta there! Or that's what I thought. But my blood pressure readings were still high and the doctors "strongly recommended" that I not leave. The thing with high blood pressure is that you feel totally fine, there's nothing wrong with you that you can see or feel. It's frustrating. I was in tears. I wanted to start my life with my family, I didn't want to spend one more night without Paul.

But I agreed to spend another night in hospital prison on the condition that no matter what I was leaving by noon the next day. We packed everything up on Friday and got ready to leave. I got my blood pressure checked one more time. It had sky rocketed to a dangerously high level. Even I knew that leaving was out of the question. I had to take some strong medication and lay down for an hour. I knew then that I was in for the long haul. The next day I spoke to one of the midwives about Charlie's umbilical cord, which had not fallen off yet and was looking pretty sore and inflamed.

We were told to go immediately to the pediatrician. Where they drew his blood and inserted a cannula. He was to start antibiotics that day. We had to walk down to the neonatal unit three times a day to receive his medication. He never got sick other than that belly button. He ate like a bear and slept all the time.

One good thing that happened after Charlie got sick was that we finally got our own room. After a week of watching other women come and go with their babies, not sleeping at night, listening to other people's conversations, and whispering my own so as not to be over heard we finally had some privacy. It was great!

A few days later we found out Charlie had MRSA. I didn't really know what that meant at the time, of course now I'm an expert.

When they found out it was MRSA we got a room with our very own bathroom! And all my crappy hospital meals were brought to me! And everyone who came into our new room had to wear a disposable apron and wash their hands! I knew it was worse than they were letting on.

I have been sitting on this blog written to this point for weeks now, unable to finish. I kept telling myself it was because I had no time. But really I think it's because the time spent in the hospital when Charlie was sick was the worst few weeks of my life. It was so painful to watch him go through everything that he did. And I think reliving it all by dragging up the details for my blog is proving to be too hard for me. So I've been putting it off. What I'm going to do, so that I can end this drama and start posting about all the cool new stuff we're doing, is wrap it up in a few sentences. So to make a long story short (too late)...

Charlie was getting his medication in our room now instead of going down to the neonatal unit and it sucked!! They came in at all times during the day and night. 2:00pm, 4:00pm, 6:00pm, 10:00pm, midnight, 2:00am, 6:00am. They put powerful medication into his cannula and it stung him and he cried. They drew loads of his blood every night to check the levels of meds and he cried. They hooked a "syringe driver" to his arm every night which is a machine from hell that slowly (over an hour) drives the medication into his little arm. It had a big battery in it and it weighed a ton. But it kept breaking and it would take more than a hour. The cannulas kept coming out so I would have to get a paediatrician to come and find a different place to insert a new one and he cried. But getting the paediatrician to come in the middle of the night took hours sometimes and then his medication schedule would be off. It was a horrific experience. But he was such a trooper through it all.

I was a wreck. Paul was visiting whenever he could but for the most part we were all on our own. The midwives were wonderful and gave me hugs when it all got to be to much. Eventually he had taken his 10 day course of medication and we had waited the 24 hours under observation afterwards. We were finally discharged after almost three weeks on Ward 3. Going outside was weird but I was so happy to finally be taking Charlie to get his first breath of fresh air and have his first look at the sky.

My best friend Jenn had arrived in Birmingham half way through the ordeal so I only got to spend a week with her. I was gutted. It was so hard to have her here but be stuck in the hospital and unable to do all the things we had planned. And she had to see me at my lowest. But Paul took her to a few fun places and out to a few pubs.

So that's it. That's the whole horrible story. But now I have an incredible, healthy and adorable baby and it was totally worth it!

Whew! Now on to the good stuff. We're going on holiday to Wales on Monday. So lots and lots of pictures to come of the past few weeks and Wales, as soon as I get my laptop fixed.

Love you all!!

Sidetrack #2-Charlie's First Laugh Caught On Film!

This video is only for the serious Charlie fans. But if you do sit through it, I promise you will laugh. (his laugh is right around 02:32) Makes my heart smile big time

"When the first baby laughed for the first time, the laugh broke into a thousand pieces and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies. And now when every new baby is born it's first laugh becomes a fairy. So there ought to be." --James Matthew Barrie

Sidetrack

We now get the milk delivered by a milkman. A freaking milkman!! How great is that?!? He leaves it right outside the front door, hidden behind a flower pot. Two bottles each day, four on Saturday. It's cold, fresh and the most delicious milk I've ever tasted. It definitely tickles my pickle.

So There I Am...

in utter pain and total confusion, being asked to sign a piece of paper saying that if it all went horribly wrong the NHS was not to blame. I laid back on the bed and was then wheeled, bed and all, in to the operating theater. Wow, what a shock this was! I have never seen such a well lit room in my life! I just kept thinking why am I here? And why is it so damn bright? The people in the theater were clearly not there to hold your hand, wipe your brow or make your experience pleasant. These people meant business. They sent Paul off to get changed so he could be in the theater with me during the surgery. It was so bad being without him. Mainly because I had no idea what was happening. I was so scared.

My sister Rose gave me some advice shortly before I went into labor: Prepare for a cesarean even if you don't think you'll have one. Because there are decisions to make. Best advice I ever ignored.


They set me up on the side of the bed and started poking holes in my wrists. Three times it took them to find a suitable place for the IV! Meanwhile I'm still having contractions one after another. But now I was without my gas and air. They had gas but no air so I was sucking on pure gas with each contraction. Wondering why they keep taking it away from me after just a few breaths. There's a lady in front of me doing something operationy and I beg her to sit with me and hold my hand as I'm getting poked and contracting at the same time.

Then they start poking my back with needles preparing me for a "spinal". And, of course, I have the terrifying thought that I will have a contraction as they are sticking me with the needle, start thrashing about and I'll be paralyzed for life. That didn't happen.

And then the best thing that's ever happened to me happened...I couldn't feel any more contractions!!! Oh sweet relief.

I laid back on the table and they blasted various parts of me with something cold to make sure the spinal was taking effect in all the right places. Then they put the sheet up in front of me so I wouldn't be able to see the hideous things they would be doing to me in the very near future. That's when it hit me. I was having a c-section! Wait! This was not in the game plan!

I turned to Paul and told him how scared I was. Mainly scared that I could see a reflection of the surgery in the over head lights, I never looked up.

And just as quick as it had started, it was over. And I could hear Charlie screaming somewhere in the room. They wrapped him up and gave him to Paul. I couldn't hold him so Paul let me smell his head and put his feet on my face. I really wanted to see what he looked like! But in the position I was in I could only see a bit of his face. Paul took him into another room while they sewed me up. I was still so out of it it only seemed to take a minute.

I think I must have drifted off because the next thing I know I'm in the recovery room with my whole body shaking and a serious case of the dry heaves. I thought perhaps I was just really cold and I couldn't figure out why I couldn't control the shaking. There were midwives everywhere but none of them told me what was happening. I wasn't coherent enough to ask. I later found out that I was in shock due to the medication.

But that wasn't the worst part. I was unable to hold Charlie due to the shaking and it just broke my heart. After awhile the shakes eased up and Paul put Charlie next to me, which really calmed me down. I kept trying to turn on my side but my legs still didn't work. Very weird sensation.

Then after 16 hours of hard labor and an emergency c-section later I was finally where I wanted to be:


Next time...how the hospital almost killed us both. Love you guys!! Here's some more unbearable cuteness.

Charlie Bear one day old

Looking just like Daddy


The boy has massive feet and prize hams for hands!

This Blog Is Not For The Spoon Fed

For those of you familiar with my blog you know I tell it like it is. So this post won't be any different. I won't fanny about and blow sunshine up your ass about my labor or being a new mom. So if you're pregnant or wish not to hear the grody details pass on this and the next few installments (I'm sure it will take more than one post to catch up).

Charlie is asleep and I should really be taking a much needed shower, as I'm covered in baby barf, but you dear reader come first. Now where was I...

As yes, walking around the house with mild contractions. I was timing them and they were about 5 minutes apart. Paul called the Birth Center to let them know we were coming in soon. Since it was snowing, the contractions were getting a bit closer and I was sort of in pain we decided to start heading to the hospital. It's now 7:00am Sunday morning. The drive there sucked! Contractions on bumps are no good. When you first arrive they take you to triage to get you booked in and assess your situation. So we were put into this little room and that's when I was told that I had high blood pressure. They wanted to wait to see if it would go down on it's own so Paul and I spent the first three hours, yes THREE hours, in labor in this tiny room. Only to be told that my blood pressure is not going down and I will not be having this baby in the Birthing Center due to that fact. Dream one dashed. Also I find out it's the busiest morning they have ever had and the birth center and delivery suite are totally full of other ladies having other babies.

Now at this point my contractions are getting pretty bad. I'm at the crying out loud stage and I'm only 2 centimeters dilated. They have to get us out of triage but have no where for me to go since you can't even step foot on the delivery suite until you are at least 3 centimeters. So I get put in a wheelchair and taken onto the postnatal ward! Here I am in full on labor and I'm surrounded by new moms and their sleeping babies. It was like trying to give birth in the library. And to make matters worse it was visiting time so there were loads of dudes there too! I was trying to be as quiet as possible when the contractions hit but it was nearly impossible to keep from at least moaning loudly. I was so self conscience of being too loud it was horrible!!! I was starting to get pretty out of it and could not figure out why they had put me in such an unkind, quiet place full of so many other people staring at me.

Paul got a midwife to take my blood pressure again and it was even higher (yeah, big shock! I'm trying to stifle contractions!!!!) so they put me in another wheelchair and I was finally taken onto the delivery suite and put in my own room. It was a big room and the first thing I remember seeing was a little cot being prepared for the baby. And I thought "Oh wow! I'm actually going to have my baby in here, I'm so close to meeting him!"

From here on out the story gets pretty hazy for me. I remember some of it and some was recounted to me by Paul and some was probably just a hallucination. The contractions are really getting strong and I'm only having gas and air (which by the way was fantastic, I would highly recommend it). I'm not dilating very fast and I'm only 3 centimeters. They offer me some pethidine and like a teenage kid lookin' for kicks I jump at the chance to get some drugs.

Now I know I was all about the natural childbirth and going drug free. But then I went into labor. And let me tell you, that shit is no joke. It hurts just as much...no make that MORE, than everyone tells you. They say "it's like really bad period pain." What?!!? It's more like being stabbed over and over and over again in your stomach. I swear labor must feel different for different women. Cause there was no freaking way a massage, smelly candles or a warm bath were ever gonna touch the sides of what hellish pain I was feeling. No way. So a big sorry to anyone I may have disappointed but I was out of my mind with pain. Self preservation took over and spoke for me.

So they stick me with a needle in my thigh and then the world gets drunk. Really drunk. I would not recommend pethidine. It made me feel tired but unable to sleep, out of control and caused me to speak in tongues. It didn't really help with the pain even. I was still on the gas and air and still suffering big time.

Now let's take a moment to look at Paul's role in all this. I have come to a few stead fast decisions since my hard labour began and one of them was that I could not and would not have a contraction without Paul being right in front of me. Another was that I could not and would not hold the mouth piece for the gas and air, it had to be held for me by Paul. So the contrations are coming hard and fast at this point and with each one I scream for the mouth piece, throw my right arm around Paul's neck, grab and rip his sweater with my other hand, stomp on his feet and scream to high heaven. I mean really scream!!! Which is the wrong thing to do, I know. But I can't tell you how much it hurts.

The only thing I could do sometimes was just let it all out. Other times I was able to mentally control the pain and didn't scream at all. Just sucked on the gas and air and visualized walking the outer line of the contractions and not letting them take over me. But only after the pethidine wore off could I do that. Back to Paul...he's been getting me through each contraction for hours now and he has to wee and needs to eat. Both of which are long gone for me, I tried to wee into a bed pan but there was no way. So Paul takes a break and I had to make it through contractions on my own. That sucked! His break didn't last long since I was screaming his name to get him back in front of me.

So we're hours and hours into this nightmare and I have just enough brain power to notice that the sun has gone down. So I know I must be at the worst part of first stage labor. Paul and the midwife were trying to get me to labor in other positions but I threw such a fit that it never worked. I would try to lay down but when the next one hit me I would cry and yell "Get me up!!! get me up!!!" There were also a lot of these: "I can't do this anymore!!" "I need a break!!! Just give me a break!!!" "Why are the coming so close together? This isn't fair!"

Now we're really into the fuzzy zone for me. I remember Paul asking the doctor who came to check on me (due to all the yelling I'm sure) if it was normal for me to be staring at one spot for so long. I was concentrating and my pupils were seriously dialated so I looked like a freak.

I remember someone breaking my waters cause I wasn't really getting anywhere. It was like a big pool of warm water spilling out. That helped labor speed up for sure!

I rememeber a doctor having to put a catheter in cause I hadn't had a wee in so long. Not nice.

Then I got to the point where the contrastions still hurt like hell but they made me feel like I had to have a big poo. I really wanted to push! So I got into a pushing position on all fours and I thought "This is it! I made it through all that and now I get to push him out and forget all about this awfulness." Then my contractions slowed way down. And there I am, ass in the air with a midwife lookin' at my bits for any sign of a head (worst job ever!). And Pauls there giving me loads of encouragement and I have nothing to push. More than a little frustrating. When I did get one it hurt so much to push that sometimes I would fake it! It just seemed like I had nothign to push out, there was nothing there. And I was right. Charlie decided to get his head stuck before moving into the final stage.

A doctor came in and tried to examine me but I was totally biligerant, shieking and acting like a child by throwing myself all over the bed and yelling "No! It hurts! Stop It!" A low point in the whole experience to be honest.

Next thing I know there are all these people in the room and a very serious looking doctor comes and tries to talk to me between contractions. She gives me the bad news about the baby being stuck. She says one of two things will now happen. Neither of which are having my baby natrually. Dream number two dashed. I will be wheeled into the theater and she will stick her hand up my hoo-ha and feel the baby's head and:

A: if it's in a good position, give me an episiotomy (the worst thing known to woman kind) and try the ventouse (baby vacuum) and if it doesn't work after three tries I have a c-section.

B: if it's in a bad position I have a c-section.

What will happen next? Will I have a cone head baby? Will I punch a nurse? Will Paul's sweater ever look the same again? Tune in next time to find out...

Charlie Bear in his handmade hat from his wonderful Aunties


Personal Note To My Cousin Amy: Oh my gawd!! Hi!! So great to know you are out there and reading this! Love you so much! Hope you are well!

In My Blogging Absence...

a video featuring Sir Charles of Dooneyton. Born February 9th at 1:33am.
Weighing in at 8 lbs. 10 oz.

I promise to tell you guys the whole (gruesome) birth story as soon as I can get this kid to stop nursing for more than two minutes. Just know that we are both healthy and happy. Thanks for staying tuned to the blog, I'm so sorry I've been gone so long! I love you all!!

I'm Home

I JUST got home from the hospital TODAY! I'll fill everyone one in as soon as possible, but for now baby and I are just fine after a horrific experience.

I can't even tell you how good it feels to be home after nearly three weeks. It's incredible.