Morgan's Birth Story

[Aphie]

I had my usual midwife checkup on Thursday, and the doctor had booked me in for External Cephalic Version (baby turning) on Friday, after which he advised they'd chemically attempt to induce labour if successful, and probably give me a caesarean, if not. My local hospital doesn't allow for vaginal breech births, so I knew if we couldn't get Splodge to turn my only option was a c-section, and since I was both very tired of being pregnant, and knew there were worried noises being made about my blood pressure rising in the past month (they were concerned I may develop pre-eclampsia), that was okay with me.
But on Thursday, my blood pressure had spiked AGAIN - it was 140/110 - and they wouldn't let me go home, but stuck me in the maternity ward overnight.

Friday, the fairy shows up, we wait around until they come get me, take me out to the birthing unit, get me to change into a hospital gown and hook me up to a blood pressure machine and a CTG (two pads attached round my middle via elastic bands - these monitor bub's heart-rate). Then they attempted to hook me up for an IV drip. They tried both hands - and it HURT because I was tense, worried about what was going to happen and unhappy at having to spend the night prior in the hospital, but they got one in second try.
They gave me Bricanyl through this IV, to relax the walls of my uterus. Only, they had to give me two doses, because after years of asthma inhalers (Bricanyl being one of these) I seemed to have developed a tolerance.

Once the Bricanyl had taken hold, one of the doctors used a wheel-in ultrasound machine to check Splodge's position - he was transverse, with his back curved along the line of my pelvis. Then the two doctors worked in tandem, putting hands on Splodge's bottom and head, pushing hir round, headfirst.
The pain wasn't terribly bad - it made me breathe out heavily and I had to work not to tense against it, but it was definitely bareable. Other than the two doctors, I had the fairy and a midwife, who were both very encouraging. After a few attempts, the doctors had managed to guide Splodge round halfway - hir back was now curved along the line of my lower ribcage, and hir head was facing downwards.
And there Splodge stayed.
The doctors tried a few times to move hir. I flailed and yelled because this time it really did hurt, A LOT. The midwife pulled out the gas for me, and we tried with that to help me relax. But Splodge was perfectly happy where s/he was.
So the doctors packed up the CTG and the ultrasound machine, checked Splodge with a doppler (small hand-held heart monitor) to make she s/he was still okay, and left me with the midwife who told me I was allowed the sue of the room whilst waiting for surgery - which might take several hours, until the team was free and ready for me, this being the public system.

We were waiting about four hours, all up. Fairy and I passed the time by listening to The Unfinished Spelling Errors of The Lord of the Rings on my ipod, mostly.
I got a bit teary - I really, really wanted to avoid surgery, it was not how I had imagined my birth experience, I didn't want to have to go through the recovery period, and I'd never had major surgery before, or any surgery as an adult. I was scared, bored, nervous and a bit sore - the ECV attempt left me feeling bruised.
Just as fairy was contemplating going out to get something to eat, the midwife came back with the news that the surgery team was prepping for me, and offered to shave the top inch of my pubic hair and fit my catheter before they came to take me down to surgery and she had to go off-shift ("Rather than you sitting there with your legs spread in a room full of strangers"). I took her up on the offer, also had an attractive red surgical hair net fitted, said goodbye and spent an increasingly nervous twenty minutes waiting for the orderly and one of the doctors to come back.
The doctor gave me a brief rundown of the procedure, had me sign a waiver stating I agreed to it and had the risks explained to me, and they arranged me on the bed and wheeled me to the surgery, with fairy trailing along behind.

Prior to surgery a few of the nurses introduced themselves, as did the anaesthetist, an attractive fellow a year older than myself, and was quizzed on my weight and allergies, and made reassuring noises at. I was given a really nasty tasting little bottle of bitter stuff that was explained to me as slowly my bleeding responses, the surgeon came by the prep room I was in and introduced herself by first name only, then I was wheeled into the surgery itself.
The anaesthetist injected an entire syringe of something into my cannula really quickly, that made me yelp with pain and involuntarily flail my arm around, before I started to go tingly and relax. The nurses helped me sit forward, and gave me some warm blankets to hold at my chest, whilst my back was painted with what I'm guessing was a local anaesthetic (it was cold!) in preparation for first a local injection, then the epidural. Then they helped me lie down, and fixed some armrests so that I was in a horizontal crucified position, the IV on one arm, and the heart-rate monitor on the other.
The epidural felt like wearing a pair of high-waisted pins and needle pants, and they put a green curtain up fairly quickly at around my ribcage (for which I was grateful - I'd caught a glimpse of the tray of surgical implements).
"I don't want to know" I told fairy, who'd been found a seat on the left side of my head, and the nurse standing on my right. "Just tell me when the baby's born."

The surgical team were pressing around on my lower stomach.
"Um... am I supposed to be able to feel that? And I can still move my feet."
The cute anaesthetist filled a glove with freezing water, held it against my face and shoulder (I confirmed it was cold), and then pressed it against my side and thigh - and all I felt was pressure, but no cold. I think he also pinched my thigh. Again, I felt pressure, but no pain.
Which is how it felt when they cut into me - I felt the skin give way, which was really strange, then I started babbling at fairy, to take my mind off it.
The anaesthetic made me kinda floaty, but eventually they pulled Morgan out, fairy disappeared and I heard bub crying. They brought him over to see me, unplugged the heartrate monitor so I could cradle his head, then took him and fairy up to the ward for observation.

So as I'm lying there, staring at the ceiling, trying not to notice the bloody smear on the handle of the light overhead, I notice it's gone very quiet behind the curtain, which was a hive of activity a few minutes ago.
Then I hear "I'm not sure what that is, either..."
"Uh... guys? That's not the most reassuring thing to be hearing right now!"
Apparently I had a cyst on my left ovary, which they drained,and sent for testing (a few days later Joyce came to see me in the ward and told me that the tests had come back all clear).

It seemed to take forever for them to finish stitching me up, and once they'd started cutting I'd been determined not to think about my feet, but as they wheeled me out to Recovery I realised I couldn't move them any more.
The Recovery nurse who looked after me was lovely, but I didn't get to breastfeed on the ward as I'd hoped (and requested) - she arranged for me to go see Morgan before being taken to my room. But first I spent about an hour with her checking various things and chatting away to me - fairy arrived after about forty-five minutes, and the discovery that I could actually move both my feet again (the left was a little shy, and lagged five or ten minutes behind the right). I also had a CRAZY itchy nose, as the anaesthetic wore off! I couldn't stop rubbing it.

Morgan was in the NICU, where they were going to keep him for four hours "for observation" - which was explained to me as standard practice at the time (though looking at my discharge papers, and in light of what happened, I wonder). The midwife who'd been into surgery with me, and who'd followed Morgan helped me put him to the breast - despite our various wires and things - and fairy and I basked in familial glow for about half an hour before two ward midwives came and wheeled me out to the ward and fussed at me for a bit.
At one point I asked for pain relief, as my stitches had started to ache, and I had been warned not to be a hero. One of the midwives declared "I'll get you morphine!" I asked for something more like panadeine forte, but then the other midwife started to say something and I got distracted - until the first midwife bustled back into the room, stuck a needle into my thigh and injected something.
"What was that?"
"Oh, morphine."
I blinked and left it, but made a tick against the 'I have heard stories about bullying nurses' note in my mind. Later, I asked the same woman to bring Morgan in to see me when he was released form the NICU.
"Oh", she breezed,"I doubt they'll let him out tonight!"
"Actually", (I always enunciate that word when PO'd. I sound like Hermione Granger),"They told me they would release him tonight, and I'd really like to see him."
"Oh, you shouldn't worry about that! You should get some sleep! I'll just keep him in the nursery for the night then."
"Actually, I'd really like to see MY SON, and it's actually making me quite distressed. And my nose is really quite itchy now, which is what happened when the anaesthetic wore off before, which is why I asked you NOT to give me morphine!"
She shut up. She brought Morgan in when they released him from the NICU four hours later. But I let her take him away to the nursery, because I couldn't move to get him if he cried.

I buzzed for a midwife at 7am the next morning, due to rumblings below - I'd been warned I couldn't eat anything until I'd farted, and I'd also been warned not to try getting out of bed on my own at first, and that the first time was the hardest, for getting up post-surgery.
I got help getting up, walked myself to the toilet (where I farted, heh), then staggered back and had them bring me breakfast and my baby.