This makes me laugh! I asked Steve to start the next part on the day we went to hospital, and end where we entered the labour ward. He told me later he was confused…how could you write so much about that? Not much happened!? Here is our versions of the story…
That weekend, Ange, being heavily pregnant at this stage, took on the role of Relocation Supervisor as our families and I did the heavy lifting in transporting our possessions into our new home. A local
family lent us their truck for us to use as a moving van, and our new neighbours supplied us with sausage rolls and cake (gotta love country hospitality).
The following Thursday Ange had an appointment with her obstetrician and we thought it wise that I take the day off work and drive her down (we live 1 ½ hours away) and we also thought that packing a bag of clothes might be useful too as we were getting very close to D-Day. Just as well as during the examination the obstetrician informed us that Ange will be giving birth very soon.
We then went down the road to the hospital, checked ourselves in and played the waiting game. I cannot express how highly impressed I was with the staff at the hospital. They were very accommodating and did everything they could to make our stay as comfortable as possible. Between 5:30 and 6:00pm the next day Mr T was making it clear that he now wanted out. I remember this time as Eddie McGuire was on the telly hosting Millionaire Hot Seat. Hot Seat has since become a staple of my evening routine with Mr T (hey it’s never too late to start filling your child’s head with useless trivia- you never know when they are going to need it). So with one last look back as Eddie blinked out with a press of the remote we headed off to the
Labour Ward and the great unknown…
Rewind and it’s the 3rd of November, 2011. We had finally moved into our newly built house, exactly one week before our baby was due. It was a warm day and there was the usual flow of tradies around the house doing finishing touches. I woke that day with a headache and feeling nauseous, as if morning sickness had made a little comeback. I put it down to the fact that I had been doing a little bit too much by trying to fit all of my pent up nesting instinct into one week of unpacking. When I served up morning tea to our fence builder he joked saying perhaps I wouldn’t come home from my obstetrician appointment which was in the afternoon. Little did he know, he was right on the money.
Living an hour and a half away from my obstetrician and hospital, I was in no shape to be driving those sorts of distances anymore so Steve took the afternoon off work. When he came to pick me up I told him of my symptoms and he said we should take our bags just in case. He was clearly excited. I was so sceptical. I felt pregnant. And I felt like I was going to remain pregnant for a bit longer.
When we got to the obstetrician I told her about my symptoms and she did the usual checks. She nearly hit the roof when she saw my blood pressure which had been sitting on normal throughout the whole pregnancy. I’ll never forget the words “I think you’ll be having this baby today” I laughed her off, saying I didn’t have any contractions, that I didn’t feel like I was going to have a baby. “I’m fine!” I kept saying. My husband on the other hand leapt up for joy. He was so damn excited – Like we were about to get a new puppy or something. And me? I was incredulous and packing myself at the same time.
We were rushed to the hospital to get some tests done and as it turned out I had protein in my urine – a sign of preeclampsia. When my obstetrician came in to give me the news she also told me that she didn’t think it was safe for me to go home, that if my blood pressure peaked while I was at home and I went into labour it would be dangerous for me and the baby. I was to be induced in the morning. I smiled and nodded, acted like I was ‘ok’ with it. Then when she walked out the door I crumbled. My entire vision of this birth was already not going to plan. But mainly, I couldn’t believe I was going to be having my baby when I couldn’t FEEL any signs telling me he was ready to face the world. It was the first of many, many times at the hospital that my husband had to give me those big strong, arm hugs of his and tell me everything was going to be ok.
The next morning a midwife came and put the gel in. I won’t bore you with the gory details but after that I decided to attack this whole being induced thing the way I do most things – go at it hard and get the job done. Poor Steve had to put up with me going up and down the fire escape stairs, round and round the labour ward. If I was going to get him out, well, I was going to make it happen fast! I was nervous about hearing people tell me that being induced often leads to other interventions and I was determined not to let that happen.
At 1pm there was still no action. My obstetrician came and put the gel in again. The midwife told me she was a bit rougher and she may even tickle my tonsils. I didn’t care. That’s why I loved my obstetrician so much. She was blunt, to the point, and liked to get the job done. Just like me. Needless to say it worked and I started to feel contractions very soon after. Didn’t feel like much, just some cramp pains. No big deal. I kept going up and down the stairs and my husband looked bored as hell.
Dinner arrived around 5:30pm and by then I was starting to feel those cramps a bit more but still nothing major. I took one bite of my dinner and BAM! A massive pain hit. My husband frantically hit the buzzer and they told me that maybe I was further along then they thought. Time for the labour ward…
I love how different our versions are…can you pick the differences? Have you ever had those moments where you and your partner have a completely different idea of what happened?
Linking up with the lovely Grace for FYBF.