Synchronization of Us

I know i should be letting you guys all know how her birthday went , but im really wanting to get this story down to. Her party is today and will write more after that (maybe )

The Arrival

As the weeks went on I became convinced I was going to be pregnant forever, we had got use to the idea of the baby becoming early so the closer I got to my due date the more frustrated I got. Don’t get me wrong I would never wish for a premature baby and im so glad for her sake that she was not early but I would have been happy to give birth at 37 weeks. At almost 39 weeks I was determined to take control and do everything I could think about to bring on labor, I started on the Sunday but still nothing.
Monday rolled around and we had a busy day, my sister had not long moved into her own flat with her daughter and DH and I had agreed to buy them a microwave as a moving in gift. We spent a while looking for one, walking around was just horrible for me and DH was refusing to let me sit and relax – truthfully saying walking could be good for bringing on labor. I remember going to my mums for a little while and complaining of back ache but never thought much of it. We went to my sisters in the evening to give them the microwave and spent a tiring couple of hours playing with me niece (then 2 ½), and of course it wasn’t the non 9 month pregnant people who were up dancing with her.
So that was that, a busy day and evening but no signs of labour. We were home late, had dinner (Cottage pie which I had been craving for a while) and went to bed.

I woke around 6-ish the next morning with cramping, I knew straight away it was different than anything I had ever felt before and just lay there watching the clock for a while. I was getting contractions roughly ten minutes apart although they were not that painful at this point; I got out of bed around 7.30 to go for a bath and got so excited when I noticed I had just the tiniest bit of blood when going to the toilet.
My bath was not what I expected it to be, I was trying to read but every time a contraction came I would be unable to do anything I thought water would help but I just felt trapped in the bathtub. They were getting worse and worse as time went on.
Eventually I got out and went to wake DH, for some reason I was terrified of telling him I was in labour and really wanted him to ask me – I was suppose to go to a breastfeeding workshop that day and it was only when I told him I wasn’t going to go that he asked why and I fessed up. He wanted me to call the hospital and my mum and I tried to find any excuse not to – I remember fussing about trying to iron a t-shirt and checking emails – my contractions at this point were about 7 minutes apart lasting for about a minute each. I was still able to function during them but just barely. I did call the hospital eventually and they said to take some paracetamol (cause that helps honestly) and call when they were about 3 minutes apart. I spoke with my mum too (she was coming with DH and I) and she called in work to take the day off.
I finished packing my hospital bag, it was mostly done but a few things were to be added before I left (camera and such) and we headed off to my sisters – we knew first labors lasted for ages and I wanted out the house. We never even took the bag as we thought it would be hours before we went to the hospital.

Almost as soon as we got to my sisters the pain got worse, I was definitely losing my mucus plug and felt like I constantly needed the toilet. DH, my sister and niece all went to get my mum leaving me home alone. The contractions were coming faster and harder and I was almost convinced I would be having the baby alone on my sister’s floor.
They did show up eventually and we called the hospital, who despite me telling them about being told to go in straight away AND having contractions roughly 3-4 minutes apart were not to keen on me coming in, we still decided to go. I was dreading the car ride and desperately wanted that over with.
We of course had to stop at home first while DH got my bag, I swear he was in there for ages (turned our he was emailing his dad to let him know what was happening ) and I was almost ready for going in the house and refusing to leave.
The ride to the hospital was hellish – I had a hot water bottle and pillow but nothing seemed to be helping, I was meant to be telling my mum when I had a contraction but just kept to myself trying to get through the pain.

We got the hospital and checked in quickly (but not quick enough) and I was asking for a epidural straight off, I was checked and although cannot remember exactly was only about 2-3cm dilated.
It was about 5 hours before they would give me the epidural as they had to wait for my charts to arrive then of course the doctor to do it. They kept trying to make me take gas and air which I hated (having stuff over my mouth like that makes me gag). I actually threw it across the room as one point which DH is sorry he missed. I was given morphine after a while even though I did not really want it and honestly I never felt it helped much. Made me wossy but I was still in as much pain as ever.
I was given the epidural around 4 o’clock, I always imagined the needles would hurt but I guess compared to the contractions it was nothing – I found the worse part to me them ripping of the tape when taking it out.
The relief from the epidural was like magic and finally after 9 hours of contractions (about 6 hours of it very sore) I got to relax.
The night passed in a dream like way, I tried to sleep but with all the activity (constant checks, epidural line bleeping) I got nothing more than a quick few moments, I was also starving and had to watch DH and my mum eat.
I progressed slowly; I was eventually given drugs to help speed it up along with a saline drip. Her heartbeat was all over the place and we started to discuss a cesarean, I believe it was actually booked in at this point.
Before we got to that point though I finally reached 10cms, the epidural had wore of and
the pain was back. Pushing lasted for about 2 ½ hours and was just hell; I completely understand why it’s called the ring of fire. The pain was like nothing I had ever felt before and I was sure it would never be over. I was such a cliché – yelling how I didn’t want to do it and wanted to go home, im pretty sure I was begging them to make it stop and just do a cesarean after all. At 5.36am on the 8th June 2005 Rebecca Stephanie McIntyre decided to make her entrance, and then the drama really started

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