A baby is born

We had booked in a c-section for baby 2. There were a few reasons for this, including the fact that I was really struggling with all the extra weight I was carrying, baby was measuring big and Will had had a massive head. Because I'd had a c section already, my induction methods were very limited. While I wasn't scared of a big baby, or even a big head, I did know it wold make a vaginal delivery more difficult, and the likelihood of another emergency c section was much higher.
That said, Dr D, Tim and I were in agreement that if I went into labour spontaneously, then I could have a try at a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean). I really wasn't holding out any hope for this, since Will had had no interest in going anywhere at full term and we were booked in early this time. However....

Three days before surgery was scheduled, Will and I were at home, baking a cake. The cake was in the oven, Will had gone down for a nap and... yeah that's not just Braxton Hicks anymore. Shit. Ok. Tim had been trying to get a final couple of days of work in before baby arrived, so I called him home to take me to the hospital. My mother-in-law was already coming out to watch Will while I had a nap, so she had to put her foot down too.

As we left home, I was having contractions about 4 minutes apart. I can feel them come on- it's just like someone hugging me tightly around my belly, though it's hard for me to tell the duration of them as they fade off again. Basically I was feeling nervous, like maybe I needed to go to the toilet (tried that, I didn't). We live about 30 minutes from the hospital and by the time we were half way there, I was not good. Within a few minutes, I'd gone from basically fine, to feeling really sick, heart racing, feverish, nasty headache. The effort of getting out of the car actually did make me sick.

When we arrived on the ward, I was admitted, but there was no expectation from anyone (except me) that this was show time. It took a while for a canula to be successfully inserted. My veins aren't great at the best of times. (Even getting iron infusions while I was pregnant often took multiple attempts). That allowed them to start anti nausea medication (so I could take panadole) and fluids. Once that all happened, I started feeling much better.

For those of you who haven't had much exposure to spinal cord injuries, the thing to watch out for here is AD, autonomic dysreflexia. Because I can't feel pain or discomfort below my injury level, my body has a different warning system to tell me something is wrong. The first symptom is a headache as my blood pressure rises. Other symptoms include all the ones I'd been experiencing, though it changes from person to person. Now you might expect that labour would fit the 'pain or discomfort' bill, but my response had come on very hard and fast.

By the time I'd been in a few hours I'd progressed from 2cm dilated to 4cm.  Baby's heart rate was a little higher than we wanted, though it had come down as I'd begun to feel better. Then my waters broke, full of merconium. So we decided it was time to go to theater. Now, not only were we dealing with a baby a few days earlier than we'd expected (I'd literally only packed my hospital bag 3 hours before we left home), but Dr D wasn't working that day, so I was dealing with obstetricians I'd never met before. Don't get me wrong, they were lovely, did a good job and listened to me but it was still very off putting to be going through all this without her.

Unfortunately, I cannot be so complementary of the anesthetist I had. Now I want to preface this saying that I understand her primary job is to get both Mum and Baby through the surgery safely, but that is not her only job. She did not listen to me when I told her that my fever was a result of my AD, rather she said it must be the result of an infection, despite my blood tests having come back clear and the fact my symptoms came on so quickly, and were fixed by panadole.
Because I'd had a fever, she would only do a GA (general anesthetic). Her reasoning for this was that if I had an infection and it got into my spinal column from the spinal tap, it would be a horrific infection to try and get rid of. Treatment included multiple surgeries over years. So if I'd had an infection, that would be very sensible, except that my fever was from AD. This decision was devastating to me. It meant that I would be asleep for the delivery, but it also meant no one else, including Tim, is allowed in the delivery room.

When we got to the theater door, she berated me like a child, speaking about me as if I wasn't there. She said if I didn't want a GA, that I needed to get another anesthetist, as if that was a viable option when we were at the theater door and everyone was telling me my baby was in distress and needed to be born now. Then when I said I was 'fucking furious' (in reply to 'how are you feeling?'), she told me she wouldn't give me a GA if I wasn't happy. Well. I saw red. I am not someone who is confrontational, especially people in positions of authority, like doctors! But she poked the wrong Mama Bear! I told her she had no right to ask that of me. That I consented, we needed to get this baby out and now, but she did not get to tell me I had to be happy about it!!

Ok, deep breathes. Can you tell I am still a little frustrated about this, almost three months later? (For those of you wondering, I did put in a complaint, about 6 weeks after. I wanted to take time to process what had happened, to make sure I wasn't being irrational).

Tim was kicked out (unfortunately no one had actually told him anything about where he was meant to go, so he was a bit lost for a while), and they took me into the theater. As I counted down, I had tears running down my face. My only memory between then and recovery, was a dark haired boy being offered for a kiss and being asked if he had a name. Harrison Trevor. You've never seen a newborn with so much hair!

Harry was taken off to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, NICU, and I was taken to recovery, where I slowly woke up and got snippets of news about him. His Apgar score was 2, so very low at birth. He had needed some help to breath, most likely because he'd also got some GA, and weighted 8lb, 3.5oz, so a pound lighter than Will, but the same sized head, almost 2 weeks earlier!

When he needed his first feed, I was still in recovery. Tim insisted they come see me to try express some milk before they gave him formula. I was so proud of him for this. He knew exactly what I wanted and made sure it happened. Sure enough, the midwife for 15ml in 5 minutes, off one boob. For those of you who haven't had babies, 15ml of colostrum is really good!!

Once I was discharged from recovery, I was taken up to the nursery to meet Harry properly. Poor baby was hooked up to a drip, but he was well and truly alive, which is the main thing.

I'm going to leave it there for today.