About Jasmine's birth part 3: hospital

So it's installment three (see part two here and part one here) and I've only just made it to the hospital for my midwife's appointment. Hmm, I'm labouring the story a bit, if you'll pardon the pun. So I'll try and be brief.

Basically, after about 5 minutes of argy-bargying with the midwife about painkillers (none available in the ante-natal unit whatsoever, and it was in a bleeding hospital - you would have thought...) and how my back was killing me, and how I needed a physiotherapy referral, I heaved myself onto the table for an examination. Three short questions ensued:

MW: (placing hands lightly on tummy) Does that hurt?

Me: (crying) Yes

MW: And does it feel like period pain?

Me: Yes

MW: And does the pain come and go?

Me: Yes

MW: Girl, I think you're in labour.

So that was about that. So after some machines, tests, much denial, some anxiety, frantic phone calls and an emergency c-section later, Jasmine was born.



Here's a photo of her at about 2 days old, just after she came off C-pap. She just came out so beautiful.
At first I loved looking at her early photos but a few months after bringing her home I found it more difficult, and still come over all weepy when I look back at them.

About Jasmine's birth part 2: pain

So where was I - oh yes, here, thinking I had somehow become mildly incontinent, feeling quite grumpy but trying to be good-humoured, and setting off for the hospital for my midwife's appointment.

Oh man, that journey was a struggle. I say 'journey' like it's some kind of epic distance but in fact it's more like a trip, or a skip to the hospital - out the house, up a short hill to the tube, over the railway bridge to the other side of the platform, short tube ride, off at Archway, up a bigger hill to the hospital and you're there. Total journey time ca. 30 mins.

Only no sooner had I left the house than my back started playing up pretty badly. I was conscious that I must have been shuffling along quite slowly, and did that old man thing by hobbling over and putting my hand on my back. I'm not sure it gave me the oomph to get me up the hill but I felt silly and self-conscious and thought that it would give passers-by more of an idea why a perfectly healthy-looking young-ish pregnant lady couldn't outpace a snail.

The warning signs still didn't kick in though. I'm pretty used to back pain after a car accident about 10 years ago left me with a chronic injury that means my back aches at least once a week when I'm not pregnant. I always knew that carrying a big bump around could make my back hurt a lot, so I just assumed that it was rotten luck for my back to flare up and for me to be mildly incontinent in the same week, chalked it up to the third trimester and struggled womanfully on.

By the time I got to the tube the pain had passed and I felt fine enough to sprint over the bridge to get the train that was on the far platform. But once I was off at Archway and on the big hill I felt like rubbish again. I was huffing and puffing and having to take really small steps, and my back was in agony. I'm not a great one for popping pills, normally content to suffer in silence, but I started to fantasise about paracetamol.

About Jasmine's birth part 1: leaking wee

Jazzie was born at 4.15pm on 27th April 2006 at the Whittington Hospital in Archway, North London. She was born by emergency caesarian at 31 weeks + 1 day, making her just under 9 weeks premature.

It was a bloody shock I can tell you.

I had a midwife's appointment that morning, which was the most enormous piece of luck, as I can't bear to think what would have happened if I hadn't had to go to the hospital that day.

What was supposed to happen that day was I get to work after my appointment in time for my boss to take me and my team out for lunch. Our treat was very overdue, by about 3 postponements over 4 months. Pregnancy still felt like shit but I was at last keeping food down. And even though it was only lunch, that meant taking it easy and no work for a couple of hours. There was no way in hell I was going to miss it.

At that time, there was obviously a lot about pregnancy that I didn't know - like what a contraction or breaking my waters felt like. As it turns out, both had happened.

In retrospect I think my waters had actually broken 4 days before Jazzie was born. But at the time I didn't realise, mainly because there wasn't a helluva lot of 'water' - just a lot of damp, slightly smelly wetness in my pants that I kept very quiet about. I mean eugh. Like I'm going to tell anyone I wet myself? No sirree. My boyfried has seen me burp, fart, shave my legs, clean my belly button, floss my teeth, wax my lip, vomit just about everywhere, cry messily in public, have a speculum examination (three times) and pass a pregnancy. This was the one last bastion of mystery (i.e. dignity) I had left, and I was clinging onto it. The fact that he's a doctor was immaterial. Rather than confess my worries to my nearest and dearest, I self-diagnosed instead. My pregnancy book (the aptly titled Pregnancy Sucks) told me that incontinence wasn't uncommon at this stage of pregnancy, and that only about 5 million pelvic floor exercises a day would probably cure it.

It wasn't the best news. It didn't help that I had been grumpy for pretty much the whole of the previous day, moaning to anyone who care to listen - I had vomited in the evening for the first time in ages and had gone to bed feeling vaguely nauseous and with an uncomfortably tight tummy. I hadn't woken up feeling much better and sensed an ominous black cloud threatening to ruin my day.

But, true to form, I assumed I was mentally exaggerating how bad I felt, dutifully clenched and released my pelvic floor 10 times, focused on getting to my lunch and set off for the hospital.