Isn’t it Ironic?

Prologue to my C-Section Day

So in my last blog I rambled on and had quite a bit of a moan about how I got to where I wanted to be in terms of opting for a Caesarean Section.

I won’t repeat myself but I got there in the end. The date was set. I felt better but still absolutely shit scared of what was about to come. But I know this baby had to come out one way or the other!

Towards the last few days before my operation I had my last midwife appointment. All standard shit just going through the motions. Or so I thought. Turned out my blood pressure was quite high. I mean I felt fine…so she took it again and then again. Yep still fuckin high. I knew what was coming next. Gonna have to trail myself into Leeds city centre to go to the LGI to sit for fuck knows how long to get checked. I shouldn’t complain as it is what was best but I felt fine surely nothing to worry about?

So off I go to the hospital.  Poor midwives rushed off their feet in this department.  Eventually I get my pee tested again and blood pressure.  Everything seems a bit better so after about an hour or more they let me go home.  But I have to go back the next day for another check.  Can’t say they aren’t being thorough…so off again I trot to get the same tests done.  Blood pressure still a bit high but they let me go home again.  So all is in order and I’m ready for my operation which is in 2 days time.  But no.  I get a phone call from one of the hospital midwives saying the protein in my urine is sky high.  And they want me to come in…and to take my suitcase with me.  Holy fuck.  That means I’m not coming out until my belly squeezes out this baby.

What I can only describe as one of the most awful nights of my life then ensued.  I stayed on one of the pre-delivery wards.  The concoction of noises coming from that ward was fuckin horrendous.  Women screaming…women puking (this did not help my anxiety at all) and nurses poking at me every fuckin hour to take my blood pressure and monitor baby’s heartbeat.  I got ZERO sleep.  Them some knob head comes in at the crack of dawn cleaning the fuckin floors and whistling and singing.  I mean who the fuck does that??  I wanted to go home so bad.  But I think they were going to pull my operation forward due to the signs of pre-eclampsia.

I’ll be honest and say I don’t know much about the condition.  I was scared to find out as I know it poses a risk to your baby.  But I didn’t quite understand as they said my urine was better and my blood pressure was down.  Eventually the obstetrician came around to see me along with his army of doctors.  Fuck they look and sound important don’t they??  I was so relieved to hear that he was going to let me go home for one night and come back in for my operation as originally planned.  He must have heard my prayers.  They didn’t see it as too much of a risk to let me rest at home and come back.  How ironic that if I hadn’t already had the c-section planned that it would have had to happen anyway?  Life is like that sometimes.  But that doesn’t matter because as always my baby was the most important person here.  Read more about pre-eclampsia here.

Yorkshire Daddy came to collect me that afternoon.  I have never been so glad to see him and go home.  I got back into the house.  I am not sure if it was the tiredness, the awful experience of my first night in hospital, or that the next day I was going to have my stomach sliced open to welcome my baby boy into the world but I cried like I have never cried before.  I sobbed.  I howled and sobbed on the sofa for what seemed like an eternity.  I was so terrified of everything.  Of everything that was to come.  I can’t remember much else about that night other than I slept well despite the fact that the following day my life was going to change forever.




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s