I can't believe it happened again!
Alternatively titled "Did my water just break???"
So at 35 weeks and 5 days, I had to ask myself that question. I rang the hospital, and the midwives said to come in and get checked. I was home alone with the baby, as L had gone to visit his sister with the two older girls, and wasn't due back until the following day. I didn't ring him straight away, because I didn't know quite what was happening. Until I was making a sandwich for the baby, and it became abundantly clear that yes, my waters had broken. A lot. So, one friend came to stay with baby M, and one drove me to the hospital. I was admitted, and monitored, given steroid injections to mature the baby's lungs, antibiotics for an infection, and instructed to wait. With each shift change the plan would change a bit, but basically, I was there until our son was born. Whether he came early or not. So I spent 3 nights and 2 days waiting in hospital for labour to start, and had some pretty convincing contractions Monday night, which petered out by morning. By Tuesday night, it was decided that to reduce the risk of infection, I would be induced Wednesday morning. I haven't been known to have quick labours, so I brought about 3 movies, a stack of magazines, and some Scrabble to the birth suite. They proved unnecessary, because we were only about an hour into the induction when I was trying to pass out by using laughing gas (for the record, you can't, and I really tried). I asked for pain relief, and the anaesthetist came, but said that he couldn't administer an epidural in the space between contractions (I could tell, in my Entonox-induced stupor, that he felt badly about this, really), that it was too late. As in, I'm-going-to-have-this-baby-in-about-30-minutes-or-so kind of too late. I'm not ashamed to admit that I kindasorta (okay, I REALLY) freaked out at this point. Thankfully, I had a couple of rockstar midwives, who pulled me back in, and then all of a sudden I was making mad-cow like noises, and then there was a head, and then he was born.
Just like that, and he was here and he was perfect. Still is, in fact. We spent a few more days in hospital because he was in the special care nursery, and now we're home. Well, we've been home for almost a week. And thus far, he sleeps well, feeds well, and does everything a baby should do. Except cry. He's remarkably calm, but alert. Tiny, but perfect.
And now we find a new normal, as a family of six. It's not a simple thing, and at times, I think it will require a degree in child psychology, but I honestly wouldn't have it any other way. It was meant to be this way, even if we didn't plan it. Our family which felt so complete before, has become even more complete than I would have thought possible. And that's reality, not just those happy hormones talking.
Now, I hear little M calling me, so I'll close this and next time, (you know, in my spare time?) tell you all about how the kids are dealing with a little brother.
XO, Sarah
So at 35 weeks and 5 days, I had to ask myself that question. I rang the hospital, and the midwives said to come in and get checked. I was home alone with the baby, as L had gone to visit his sister with the two older girls, and wasn't due back until the following day. I didn't ring him straight away, because I didn't know quite what was happening. Until I was making a sandwich for the baby, and it became abundantly clear that yes, my waters had broken. A lot. So, one friend came to stay with baby M, and one drove me to the hospital. I was admitted, and monitored, given steroid injections to mature the baby's lungs, antibiotics for an infection, and instructed to wait. With each shift change the plan would change a bit, but basically, I was there until our son was born. Whether he came early or not. So I spent 3 nights and 2 days waiting in hospital for labour to start, and had some pretty convincing contractions Monday night, which petered out by morning. By Tuesday night, it was decided that to reduce the risk of infection, I would be induced Wednesday morning. I haven't been known to have quick labours, so I brought about 3 movies, a stack of magazines, and some Scrabble to the birth suite. They proved unnecessary, because we were only about an hour into the induction when I was trying to pass out by using laughing gas (for the record, you can't, and I really tried). I asked for pain relief, and the anaesthetist came, but said that he couldn't administer an epidural in the space between contractions (I could tell, in my Entonox-induced stupor, that he felt badly about this, really), that it was too late. As in, I'm-going-to-have-this-baby-in-about-30-minutes-or-so kind of too late. I'm not ashamed to admit that I kindasorta (okay, I REALLY) freaked out at this point. Thankfully, I had a couple of rockstar midwives, who pulled me back in, and then all of a sudden I was making mad-cow like noises, and then there was a head, and then he was born.
Just like that, and he was here and he was perfect. Still is, in fact. We spent a few more days in hospital because he was in the special care nursery, and now we're home. Well, we've been home for almost a week. And thus far, he sleeps well, feeds well, and does everything a baby should do. Except cry. He's remarkably calm, but alert. Tiny, but perfect.
And now we find a new normal, as a family of six. It's not a simple thing, and at times, I think it will require a degree in child psychology, but I honestly wouldn't have it any other way. It was meant to be this way, even if we didn't plan it. Our family which felt so complete before, has become even more complete than I would have thought possible. And that's reality, not just those happy hormones talking.
Now, I hear little M calling me, so I'll close this and next time, (you know, in my spare time?) tell you all about how the kids are dealing with a little brother.
XO, Sarah
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