Due Date: 04/21/2009
Week: 39+4 days
Month: 10
Trimester: 3
Fetus Age: 38 weeks
Time to Go: 4 Days (We'll see. Heh.)
Size: Too big to sneeze out
Time til potential induction: 6 days (yep, you read right)

It's been a bit of a turmoil these last few weeks. I reached breaking point, as most of you clearly saw (for which I would apologise, but I'm not going to be apologetic for being honest.), and there are so only so many different stories you can take from your "Medical Caregivers" (that title always makes me snort).

Thursday's scan showed the fluid had increased. Again. Up from 9.4 to just below 11cm. Heyyyy ain't that just great? Yeaaahh.... What REALLY made me laugh was when we came out of the room, Mme Sonographer asked us to hang around for a few minutes, but didn't say why. Turns out she had to go find a consultant to see if we needed to stay in Labour & Delivery for whatever reason. It's probably just as well she didn't say why before she went; she'd have found me running (walking fast/hobbling/waddling) out to the car park as fast as possible.

Friday's consultant appointment had me on edge. D and I packed the bags in the car, pretty much expecting to not be allowed home for monitoring/internals/inductions/big gaping baby heads emerging everywhere...

Ok maybe not that much, but certainly to be kept in for monitoring. We saw the Consultant who claimed actually I don't have Polyhydramnios but wanted to keep an eye but everything's ok but we should be concerned - Dude! Dude. Like, wtf? Is there any chance the medical profession could agree on something and stop playing mind-fuck games with me?

Due Date: 04/21/2009
Week: 37+3 days
Month: 9
Trimester: 3
Fetus Age: 36 weeks
Time to Go: 19 days
Size: Smaller than your mother.


You all knew it was coming. You all said "at the end of the day, blah blah blah, healthy mom healthy baby, yaddah yaddah". You all sat there thinking how nuts I must be trying to deliver another big baby at home. I'll even bet some of you wondered what point I was trying to make, or what was I trying to prove.

Maybe I'm just very paranoid (which is very true).

But as of today, I have given up. Scan yesterday, showed baby measuring about 9lbs in weight, with potential to gain a pound a week, but could go 20% either way. Fluid levels down from 11 point something to 9.4cm, so they're dropping and things starting to look good.

So whaddup?

They're all too scared. They actually threw a million scare stories at me during today's appointment. Mr Consultant actually said if I decided to stay at home, then he would pretty much not be involved in the delivery, and would not advocate me staying at home. Yes a MW would be in attendance if I called in, they would have to be, they have no choice (by law). But "if something were to go wrong, I would take full responsibility and no body else could be to blame".

"But of course, Mrs M, the decision at the end of the day is yours!"

I had no point to prove. I had no point to make. I just wanted to deliver my baby in an environment that I knew I would be happy in, that I would be comfortable with. Without fear of what would the medical profession would try to do if they got too close.

I am SO fully aware of all the dangers. I am also fully aware of the dangers that could happen with ANY. OTHER. BIRTH. He even said himself that shoulder dystocia can happen in a birth with a "normal" size baby. But once again, they're just pointing out as many of the factors as possible, including the fact that my fluid levels are still too high. So what would be REALLY great is if people can just be in agreement with what the hell is normal and what isn't. I can't cope being told one week that 11cm is acceptable and shouldn't be concerned until we got to 24cm. And then the following week, well actually 9.4cm is still too high, and even though the level has dropped, that's still not good enough.

So you know what? They win. This is a fight I can't keep up anymore. I'm frustrated, I'm tired. If I go into labour I'll go in to hospital. I don't want to, but after all they've freaked me out with, how the hell am I supposed to happily and comfortably give birth at home?? Christ, today when I went for my appointment, ALL the staff knew who I was and why I was there. Now I'm thinking that can't always be a good thing.

So I give up. I'm gutted. Actually, I'm more pissed off than I am upset. Pissed off because I didn't want it to be this way. I didn't want this birth to be so tainted. Maybe I should have just given up the fight earlier, but how can I do that when I'm told so many different things every time I walk in there?

They want to do another liqor scan at 39wks, do an internal and if nothing's happening, they want to induce. Pah. I think they may have to catch me first. I can only thank god that he refuses to do C/S, and has no intention of inducing unless absolutely necessary. I can't even begin to say how grateful I am for that. But that comes on the back of no home birth, and I can't even have a water birth in hospital because of the fluid crap thing. I'm starting to feel like everything is being taken away ("the decision is yours Mrs M...") and that quite simply, I'm just not going to enjoy this birth at all. I know I can't have everything. But even the few things I wanted have now gone.

I'm really fucked off. Like, they can't even give me straight answers, they can't prove anything, they don't know anything for sure and they've made me feel like crap in the process.

So that's that. I pretty much hope I go into labour before 39 weeks because I cannot, just CAN NOT face induction. And yes I KNOW that people have been induced and it's gone great. Good for you. But that's not what I want. I also understand that babies need to cook for as long as necessary. I can assure you I know that too. Remember my own mother is a Midwife. So is D's mother. But understand that I do not want medical intervention.

I don't like the way this has turned out. But I know at this point now, there's not a fat lot I can do. That's fair enough. I understand I need to go in. I understand I pretty much have no choice. My hands feel like they've been tied somehow...but you know what? I'll deliver this baby, and I don't care what anyone says, it's going to have to take one SERIOUS frigging situation before they have to intervene. There will be no C/S. There will be no medical intervention.

Any intervention will be my own doing. And it'll probably be in the form of large quantities of pineapples and fair amount of power walking. Possibly with the odd curry thrown in. Now if you'll excuse me, these Braxton Hicks are driving me batshit and I have a Poopgate appointment with the bathroom.

Due Date: 04/21/2009
Week: 35+3 days
Month: 9
Trimester: 3
Fetus Age: 34 weeks
Time to Go: 32 days, though at this rate, who the hell knows?
Size: King/Queen
Time til NEXT Growth Scan: 7 days

Soooo....after all of that, it seems I've got other things to worry about. Thank you so much to all those who replied, and especially those who gave me a cyber kick up the arse. On reflection, yes I know it's hormones, and I'm stupidly tired and ha ha! Of course Noah doesn't hate me! (Not yet, anyway, give it about 14 years maybe) And this blog tends to receive the brunt of my whining (ya'll some very strong/supportive/intriguing people to carry on reading...that means a whole lot). But there are just some days, which we all have, when I just feel completely incompetent. And whilst it sucks, I think I just need to find some way to embrace that.

2 nights/3 days in hospital, suspected meningitis (do you know how scary it is when they start bandying that word around??), a chronic migraine, an IV, morphine, cocodemol, codeine, paracetemol, no sleep and some very, very odd people.

Lord above.

Thankfully, above all else, The Other One is ok; the midwives came down from the maternity ward and dopplered in. Heart rate found, thank GOD.

Monday morning, felt shit, but nothing worse than I had been since last week. I realised something was up when Monday night came, I had no idea what time/day it was and I screamed in pain every time the light was turned on, I focus on anything or speak without wanting to throw up. Hoorahh!! Good times, oh yes.

Sometime in the night (maybe around 10:30pm?) Dave finally called NHS direct who sent round paramedics, who called an ambulance, who took me to hospital. My faaaaaaaavourite place, hospital (at this point I kept thinking about the Big Shiny Red Button). They pumped me full of all kinds of drugs, none of which worked. The best moment?

(Cos there always is one)

When Nurse #1 tried to feed me two Cocodemol - tablets the size and shape of UFOs - and I threw them up before I even had a chance to sit back. She watched me spew, then asked if I'd thrown up the tablets. Then 25 minutes later, asked D if he could check the plastic bag of spuke to find the tablets. I remember half laughing behind blinding pain.

I don't remember much of Monday night in A&E*; I vaguely remember losing feeling in my hands and feet to morphine (that was AWESOME, I'd do that again), and listening to some woman in the next cubicle spuke. Again. And then again. And then some more. And then for the next 6 hours. I think, I think, she may have been ill.

So I didn't sleep Monday night, and D eventually got kicked out 2:30 am.

I remember NOTHING from Tuesday (yesterday), apart from someone constantly asking me my date of birth, and someone else asking about rashes and meningitis. I know I repeatedly asked whether all of the drugs they were forcing down me were actually safe for the baby, and moaned in disbelief when one nurse/doctor/medically incompetant person said they weren't sure and "Would I like her to check first?"

(No, you stupid whore, just give me the motherpuppy drugs which don't even frigging work anyway, and poison both myself and my unborn child. Kthnxbai.)

I do, however, remember Tuesday night. I remember it because I was quietly moaning to try to get to sleep, but couldn't because some guy in the corner kept shouting for the nurses, saying he wanted to "pass water". And every time the nurses told him, "you have a tube in your bladder, you don't have to get up"

Annoying man: "So I don't have to get up?"

Nurse #24,735: "No, because you've got a tube in your bladder."

AM: "So I can pass water?"

Nurse #68,942: "Yes, just relax and stop shouting because there are other people trying to sleep."

AM: "Ok I'm sorry, I'm very sorry."

(30 seconds silence)

...

AM: "Nurse! NURSE!! NURRRRRRSE! IS ANYONE THERE?? CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?"

Repeat as above. For 3 hours.

Seriously, Big Red Button.

But I'm home now as of this afternoon (and not a moment too soon) to see my beautiful boy who I cannot believe how much I missed. I kept hoping one of the grandparents might just bring him along even though I knew he wasn't allowed.

When I got home he grinned, launched himself at me then grabbed my head and gummed my face. Then while changing him tonight he refused to be put down on his changing table, preferring to cling round my neck and hang on with his legs. Have you ever tried to change a child while they adhere themselves to your torso? It's just the best.

Not sure how I feel about the 4 teeth that have made an appearance at the top, though. Two broken the gum, two bulging the gum. My baby is growing up.

*D has renamed "Accident & Emergency" to "Accident & Eventually"

Again. It was only a matter of time. I seem to be going through the "Wow do I suck as a mom" phase, and it's not making me feel good. I'm determined to make sure it stays as Baby Blues, and doesn't turn into PND because for the love of god, I can't cope with that right now.

We all knew to look out for it, but I thought I might be a little stronger than this. I already seem to be heading to the Land of Neurosis (especially after we made it two weeks before rushing Noah to A&E after he projectile vomited milk out of his nose for the umpteenth time). I didn't want to be the neurotic mom and I hope I never get there.

I've been terrified of PND for some time. It's my worst enemy. My geatest fear. I can't function when I'm depressed and if that happens, we're screwed.

My body is doing a little better and I try to hang on to that, apart from the fact that I cry my eyes out every time time Noah feeds on Left Boob. It's agony. Like some is massaging the nipple with a freshly sharpened razor blade dipped in lemon juice, salt and vinegar. Lovely.

However, my saving grace was hand expressing 250ml off Left Boob. Left Boob was most grateful, especially as it had started threatening me with a bout of mastitis. Cos you know, if Right Booob can do it...

Yesterday morning was a hoot - D has gone back to work and I had to leave the house. Fill the car with petrol, pick up a prescription. Easy. Yeah. Petrol station: assumed I would only be 30 seconds in the shop, pay on the card. Left Noah in the car (Ahhh...Bad Mommy Rookie mistake). Both cards - declined. Emergency call to the bank. Crying out loud. 15 minutes later, I get back into the car and Noah is screaming blue murder. Hooray.

Next - pharmacy. 'Won't be long at all' she says. Lying whore. You would think I had taken the hint from the petrol station and brought Noah in with me. Nope, left him in the car. Again.* 3 frigging days later (ok, 20 minutes later and several trips back out to the car) I get the prescription. Do you think I've even used it? Nope, because my stupid mentality refuses to pump Noah full of crap at less than a month old. Oh. My. God. What the hell is wrong with me?

The good news throughout all of this? I've pooped several times this week. It's surprisingly reassuring.


*My reasons for this are purely selfish - I struggle to carry him in the car seat and it hurts my hip. Solution? Screw my hip and just carry theboy in his car seat. *tsk*

I want to update properly but I'm having a difficult time at the moment. So here's a story you might want t0 read in the meantime.



On Sat 5th Jan, I was determined to get things going, so DH and I spent 3 hours shopping around the City Centre, me power walking everywhere. My constipation was still pretty bad so I was hoping it would help get something moving. We got home; I was shattered but no movement of any kind. So I juiced 2 pineapples and a mango (yum), and drank the lot in almost one go (2 pints!)

About an hour later I needed a wee, went and realised that I desperately needed a bm. I pushed so hard it hurt, but there was some success. At the same time, I bled a little and felt a strange kinda clicking in my pelvis every time I pushed.

Anyway, maybe ½ hour later at midnight, ctx kicked in. I couldn't sleep through them and they were about 8mins apart. I woke up DH and he started to get the lounge and pool ready, knowing we should have enough time.

I was drinking like a fish and after about 2 hours went for yet another wee and lost my plug (very clear mucus, streaked only with bright red blood), ctx were approx. 5-6 mins and my word there was no question I was in labour by then. DH called the midwife but it was so icy outside that it was going to take her a while to get there. That wasn't a problem though, I had my TENS machine when I was ready. At this point the ctx were just really uncomfortable but still didn't hurt (mind over matter I think...)

The midwife arrived at around 3:45am, just after DH had finished getting the pool all set up and the whole of the lounge ready. There was plastic sheeting covering the whole floor, with loads of towels and old blankets. I asked MW to check me to see how far I was as ctx were so uncomfortable and I wanted to see if it was worth using the TENS yet. She couldn't reach my cervix!! The examination was sooooo painful, but my cervix was completely posterior and no telling how dilated I was.

I thought stuff it, let's go with TENS on low, which worked surprisingly well, with DH watching me to press the button for ctx so I wouldn't have to worry about it. She checked me again about half an hour later approx 4:15am and I was roughly 3-4 cm - hooray!!! I could finally get in the pool. OMG sweet relief - it seemed to take away so much of the pain it was untrue. I was breathing steadily and concentrating so hard through every ctx, but it felt like nothing was happening - I couldn't feel baby moving down or anything and was getting verrrrrrrry tired. The water was so warm and soothing but making me a little sleepier than before (I hadn't slept since Friday night!!)

By 6:30am and 6½ hours of established labour, I became very close to thinking I was fighting a losing battle and started to beg for some kind of help. I kept apologising to DH saying I felt like I'd thrown all our hard work out the window by wanting to go in for an epi, but that I was just desperate for help. MW offered to check me again to make a decision - I was 6-7cm!!! I couldn't believe I had made it that far and decided (with renewed vigour!!) that screw this - I was almost there and I knew I could do it. I started on the gas and air and could feel that I might just get to the end.

I soon hit transition - I don't remember much about it, but DH and MW say it was very clear when I was there. I only remember doing weird things like trying to dry off the side of the pool (with a wet hand), and wondering why one of the light's on the ceiling was more yellow than the others (it wasn't...) and instructing DH to stand in an exact spot at the side of the pool so I could go to him or move away as needed...it was very surreal but that's all I remember of that.

I was micro-sleeping between ctx at this point; the "sleeps" felt like ½ hour each but DH tells me they were minutes if not seconds, before being woken by the next ctx. They eventually took the gas and air off me because I wasn't using it, and pushing stage began :shock:

At 10:30am-ish I wanted to start pushing so MW checked me one last time and said she could easily feel Mocha's head 'right there' (about 2cm inside. DH got in the pool and stood behind me, holding me up under my arms while I squatted in the water. The pushing was IMMENSE but the MW were fantastic, not touching me or interfering, using a torch and mirror to observe, telling me how to push past the Ring of Fire and get the head out. I reached down and could stroke the top of Mocha's head and knew I was so close. DH got in the pool with me and held me up while I squatted and pushed – it was unreal, reaching down and feeling the head come out. Finally after an hour of much guided pushing, out came baby Mocha at 11:32am! Labour had lasted approx. 11½ hours. He was GORGEOUS, eyes open and alert, not crying, just gurgling out water, very peaceful. I was so surprised he was a boy! He's called Noah Franklyn.

DH cut the cord and I got out for my natural 3rd stage which was great too. Unfortunately, no one had anticipated baby being quite so big, and I ended up with suspected 3rd degree tearing (hence the trip to hospital). While the MW was assessing me at home, I was out of it on gas and air, DH came back downstairs and announced his weight to me – 10lbs15oz!!!! I nearly had kittens on the spot (which probably would’ve been easier…) At hospital they kept us in because they were all so concerned with the size of Noah (by rights he should have gotten completely stuck with shoulder distortia), whether my SPD was going to be an issue and wanted to make sure he was feeding properly – it was a day before he decided he was going to latch on. Now he feeds like a pro :)

He’s eating and sleeping well, still trying to work out some kind of pattern, but he did well for his first night at home. I’m so proud of myself to be honest – we followed my entire birth plan to the letter, and even after ending up in hospital we got some of the best lactation help we could ask for.