The wait is over! (40 weeks part 2)

So, where were we? Tim had managed to calm me down by the time they were ready to take me into theatre, but it didn't take much to set me off again. Someone, probably an anaesthetist, had gone over what was going to happen. I already knew that Tim would be kicked out if I needed a general anaesthetic for any reason, but I really didn't need to be reminded of that right then... Then they wheeled me into the theatre.

Any control I had over my emotions was completely lost then. It's this huge big stark white room, full of people and various machines, with huge overhead lights. Now I'm all for women choosing what works for them when it comes to giving birth (and most other things), but at that moment, I could not for the life of me understand why anyone would choose to have a caesarean. Even with Tim there, with a doctor I knew and trusted, I was so scared. (I also recall thinking something about how maybe it was a good thing they wouldn't let me stay awake like I'd asked when they operated on my arm). I was still crying. They were still asking if I was alright. I knew I'd be fine once the baby was out, but I had to just focus on getting there first.

I knew that it wouldn't take them long to get bub out, that most of the time in theatre was them putting me back together, so I just tried to concentrate on listening for the cry. They transferred me onto the theatre table, using the hover mat. Someone said something about how they charge you for this kind of thing at the show. There was a bit of prep stuff going on, as I listened to what Dr D was saying. Tim was given a stool near me head, so neither one of us could see anything. At this stage, I think that was probably a good thing. I know I kept looking at the clock.

40 weeks + 2

About midnight, Dr D told me that it was about to feel like someone was doing the dishes in my belly. That is a pretty accurate description. After a minute or so, the dishes were done. The screen was dropped and a purple, squishy baby boy, covered in goop, was held up. The first thing I said? "His hands are too big!" He didn't look like a newborn! He was passed over the screen and put on my chest, so I could hold him. I was still crying, but now it was just utter relief. My smile wasn't forced anymore.

Covered in goop!

I had him there for about 5 minutes, before I felt like I was going to be sick, an unfortunate but common response to having a baby. Tim took bub for me as I lay there trying not to be sick. I was given something to stop me feeling sick, which was pretty effective. Unfortunately at the same time, Tim also got really light headed as he overheated. So the baby was passed to a midwife and he lay down on the floor before he passed out! After a few minutes, he'd recovered enough to get up and help cut the cord and dry off and dress the baby.

Tim cutting the cord

As Tim was overheating, I was feeling really, really cold!! I'd lost about 800ml of blood and was starting to go into shock. They got me a clean, dry gown and some warm blankets but it didn't feel like it had made any difference.

Guess who he got his big hands from?

About 40 minutes after I went into theatre, I was all back together and being taken into recovery. Dr D had made sure to reinforce my stitches and she had used a longer lasting suture material for my internal stitches. She wanted to give my body the best chance of healing well, since there are certain movements I just can't get around, like transfers.
Usually you are kept in recovery about 30 minutes, but I wasn't that straight forward. My blood pressure was very low, due to my blood loss. I was freezing cold, shivering and teeth chatting constantly, so they wrapped me up with a hot air blanket, set at 35 degrees, to try and warm me up. I was constantly drifting off to sleep. The past 32+ hours had caught up to me and I couldn't stay awake. Apparently it had been harder on me that it had felt at the time.

At my last appointment with Dr D before my first induction attempt, she'd said my haemoglobin levels would be ok if I only lost 100-200ml of blood. Since I'd lost four times that, it was a bit of a concern. I was in and out of it a lot in recovery, but I remember them trying to get a second canular in my other hand. As I've said before, I don't have good veins. So for them to be trying to canulate me after everything I'd just been through, was never going to work. I was awake enough to tell them I didn't want them to, but not enough to really put my foot down, so to speak. Two anaesthetists had several attempts at my hand before Tim convinced them to try my foot. They weren't going to get that either, but at least it wasn't hurting me. It also allowed me to get my cold arm back in the warm bed. Sure enough, they couldn't get a canular in, but they did manage to get enough blood for a blood test.

Throughout all this I was really really thirsty, but I wasn't allowed to drink anything. The most I was allowed was ice chips, which I ate as fast as they would give them to me. It didn't do much to help me warm up though. What I would have given for a hot chocolate...
At some stage, Tim asked me if I would like to hold the baby again. I told him I thought I could do that, and then promptly fell back asleep! When I woke up again, not only was the baby in bed beside me, but Tim and the midwife had managed to express some milk and get him feeding! So I missed the start of his first feed, but that was ok. Despite the fact I kept falling asleep, I found that the first thought each time I woke up was whether the baby was still ok. I was worried he'd suffocate or overheat, since I knew the bed was hot to try and warm me up, but he was ok. I'm guessing the midwife was keeping a pretty close eye on us, since that was why she was there!
I was also aware that mum was upstairs and we had definitely been longer than half an hour in recovery. I found out later that Tim had messaged her and let her know I was ok, which was really good, since I'd been worried about her not knowing, but couldn't wake up enough to do anything about it!
By 3am, they were satisfied my bleeding had eased and I was allowed to go back to the labour ward. I'd been in recovery over 2 hours. Because I was still on the epidural, I would be kept on the labour ward where they could monitor my recovery closely.

Once we finally got back to the labour ward, I was very happy to see mum. There would be a lot happening for a couple of hour’s still, so I really appreciated having her there to help and just to give me a cuddle. It had been a rough night. There were doctors, midwives, nurses and anaesthetists coming and going over the next couple of hours. I was actually awake for bubs second feed, which mum helped me with, since I'd missed out on a lesson with the midwife earlier. Poor Tim was almost as tired as me and had a power nap in the armchair in between people coming and going. The surgery wasn't much fun for me, but it was all a bit scary for him too, especially considering everything that happened afterwards. It was a lot quieter in the labour ward though and we had got away from bright white rooms, which made me feel a lot more relaxed. I'd also finally warmed up enough that I could start to take off some of the mountain of blankets I was covered in. We had arranged with the nursery to borrow one of their cots, so that was ready for us too. 

And so, the final mystery for the night, just how big was this baby? He weighed in at 4.18kg, or 9lb 4oz, so he was pretty heavy. He was 55cm long, so a little longer than average. His head though... A newborns average head size is 35cm. They triple measured his and it was definitely 38.5cm! So while it would have been nice if he'd arrived as planned, it probably wasn't such a bad thing I ended up with a caesarean. A baby that size I could just as likely ended up in theatre anyway and it probably wouldn't have been quite so straight forward.

Both ready for a nap!

Next time on para pregnancy, what did we name him?