4am is like the new 9am…. right

Just like that it’s 4am I’m aware that contractions have started. I ship myself off to the sofa so my other half can get his last night of sleep (well a few hours). At this point I thought, this isn’t too bad. Hahaha what a fool.

When my lovely other half trundled into the living room with a half dazed look upon his face at 6 I was in trouble. Apparently rather than letting him have a few extra hours in bed I should have woke him at the first sigh of a contraction. So back off to hospital we went, all ready and possibly prepared this time.

3 1/2 hours later I’m home….again. Dihydrocodeine on board the aim is sleep. Yes the contractions are happening but they aren’t anywhere near they need to be for peanut to make her arrival. I somehow manage so sleep. Thank the lord… There was no way I was going to get through labour on no sleep. The only thing I was feeling positive about that was the epidural I knew I had to get based on medical grounds.

The day passed in a blur of me rocking about the house …..quite literally. Rubbish TV and my other half seeking in a Chinese takeaway. As final days as a two actually not too bad. By 7pm that night my contractions had decided they were on the increase and after some phone calls to hospital we where on what seemed to be our final drive into hospital.

Finally, I wasn’t going home without a baby. Quick visit to triage and off to labour ward for me. (Oh sh*t!!!!!) Epidural on board. Now just relax…..who am I kidding. Hours passed in a daze….well a literal daze. Somehow we got to the morning and I was not well at all. Visit from the doctor and the news that indeed I was dreading – ”we need to do a c-section’.

After what seemed an eternity in theatre they had to knock me completely out to do the section… Less than ideal. My poor other half was put in a room by himself waiting to hear if both me and his baby girl were ok. I can’t imagine what he must have been thinking (although I’ve tried to get it out of him many times since to no avail), it just must been terrifying.

My bundle of joy was born at 9am sharp……always on time just like her mum. Neither me or her dad were technically present when she popped into the world and that is something that weighs heavy on my heart. I lost a fair amount of blood and was pumped full of more antibiotics than if had on my life up until that point but we were both ok.

My fist moments weren’t of skin to skin or crying because of done it. They were coming round to my handsome man holding our baby burrito and knowing that no matter what he had it covered.

From

The exhausted mummy and her eye bags

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