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.

 

 

My pre C Section story- my fight with the NHS

Some might say that I never truly gave birth because I had a Caesarean Section.  Well I’m sorry but that’s utter bullshit.  I know recently lots of other mums and random people simply say ‘oh don’t be stupid of course you have given birth!!’ But I genuinely believe that behind closed doors unless you’ve suffered the labour and the pushing a massive head out of your foof then you haven’t had the ‘real’ experience. Anyone that thinks that…fuck you.

So here’s my story about how I ended up on the operating table…not as dramatic as you might think so don’t get too excited!!

From the first day of finding out about my pregnancy I went through a huge roller coaster of emotion and high anxiety.  As a long term sufferer from emetophobia there were so many elements of pregnancy that terrified me hugely.  Morning sickness (or pregnancy sickness as it goes on all day) was a killer for me.  I was never actually physically sick.  But the nausea was always there and somehow I think that was just as bad for me.

When the nausea passed around 20 weeks I started to feel relatively normal and my anxiety started to subside.  But then came the thought process of how the fuck I was going to get this tiny baby out of my body.  I mean it just horrified me.  I have read so many times and seen on some programmes that so many women vomit during labour, whether it be due to drugs or exhaustion or whatever.  So that in itself started to manifest itself inside me about what I would do when I went into labour.

It was from this early on in my second trimester that I started to convince myself that I needed to take the least stressful option for me and my baby.  Not that there are a huge amount of options when giving birth, it’s not as if it’s a multiple choice decision. But for some reason I had myself set on having a c-section.  That settled me for several weeks knowing that I could make that decision.  Or so I thought.

I can’t remember the exact week that I mentioned to my midwife that I wanted an elective c-section.  But I remember very well the painful and somewhat embarrassing process that I had to go through to get what I wanted.  I came up against it right from the start.  The midwife told me that I had more chance of being sick during a Caesarean, and how many risks it posed to my baby and to me.  I know they have to explain all of the risks, they wouldn’t be doing their job if not, but it was the WAY she went about it.  I felt embarrassed!!  I felt ashamed that I should have to ask for a c-section because there are so many elements of giving birth that frighten me I think I would rather die.  I mean why the fuck was she making me feel like this??

She sent me to some ‘counsellor’ to talk about my ‘options’.  The lady was nice and was understanding but again she went through the same stuff about how having a c-section would be the worst decision I could ever make.  How could that be when I think it is best for my and my baby?  I had the same retort when I went to the next stage, where I met an obstetrician.  Only this time they stepped it up a notch.  She fuckin terrified me.  Again, yes yes I know they have to take you through all of the risks.  She went on about how so many women were sick during the operation. I left the room thinking that if I went ahead I would be in effect putting my life and my baby’s life at huge risk.  OK yeah I know there are ALWAYS risks.  But I didn’t like how these doctors and midwives were making me feel.  None of them understood how I felt.  None of them knew the years and years of torment and anxiety I have been through with my phobia and how I tortured myself for a long time about not being a mother because of it.  AND now I was finally here…carrying my first baby and wanting the best for him and me.  How can I tell these people who don’t know me at all what I have been through in my mind to come to such a hard decision?  The doctor refused me the operation.  She said I was healthy and fit.  She said it would be unlikely for me to have any complications during labour.  She basically thought that I was pushing for this because I didn’t want to damage my foof.  I mean there may be some out there that do it for cosmetic reasons.  Good on them.  I couldn’t give a shit why the next person wants it, all I know is what I want and this doctor was making an instant decision about my life after meeting me for 10 minutes.

They sent me away.  They gave me an option of having an early induction.  Because they scared me so much I actually contemplated it.  I felt like I was being bullied into something that I definitely did not want to do.  I went to the usual social forums and asked advice.  This was actually the only time I found social media an absolute godsend in terms of advice.  Loads of other new mothers told me they had never been ill during, or after their operation and had never heard of anyone else suffering the same for that matter.  One very helpful lady who actually WORKS in the theatre with the obstetrician’s also told me that she had never even seen anyone sick whenever she attended the operations.  Other mum’s told me they had also opted for c-sections due to severe anxiety and they got their wish.  All of a sudden I didn’t feel so bad.  I’m not fuckin crazy.  I’m just a woman who wants what is best for her baby.  I couldn’t imagine how I might be in labour.  What if I got so stressed or anxious that I put my baby in danger?  I know it’s unlikely but I was not willing to take that chance.

So after my 6th visit to the NHS, I stood my ground.  I told the second doctor that if they didn’t grant me the operation I would go to another hospital that would.  She still tried to terrify me out of it.  But I got what I wanted.  They booked me a date.  I had never felt so relieved.  Absolutely terrified but relieved that the lesser evil option for me was granted.

The guilt still killed me.  It still does sometimes.  I went through many emotions in the weeks before my operation.

The moral of this blog is this.  Whether it be severe anxiety, or even worse Tokophobia (fear of giving birth which I do think I suffer from to some degree) or any other reason for your health or the health of your baby, fight for what you want.  I’m not saying I had to go through high courts and experience months and months of turmoil and fighting in order to get my choice, but they made it difficult for me. I have a bit more bite than some other people so there could be others out there that would just sit back and accept what the doctors say, but you DO have a choice.

Read this link which takes you to the NICE guidelines regarding your options for a Maternal Request for C-Section. Please don’t take this blog as a dig at the NHS.  I don’t want the fuckin pro NHS lovers having a go at me saying shit to me about how hard the NHS work.  I know they work hard.  It was proved during my operation and my aftercare.  But as someone who has paid their taxes all of their working life to receive NHS treatment I wanted them to listen to me, and understand how I felt and respect my choice.  But they didn’t and reluctantly granted me the operation.  It felt like I had won, not that they had supported me and guided me through to the operation.

My story of my c-section experience will appear shortly, warts and all.  Again, you never get any idea of what really happens during the operation from anyone.  But I will tell you everything.  It was an excellent experience and one I will never regret.  At the end of the day, I have a healthy baby boy, and well…I’m still in one piece too!

 

 

Nutella, pregnancy & Emetophobia

imageI eat Nutella from the jar. It’s fuckin beautiful.  I also eat family size chocolate packets.  Not normal size chocolate bars.  They simply aren’t enough.  I can eat a whole packet of Cadbury’s fingers in one go.  I’m not boasting…it’s pretty disgusting.

It could be considered binge eating.  It’s ironic though because I suffer from Emetophobia so you would assume that I wouldn’t eat food in large quantities for fear of being sick.

When I found out I was pregnant (which was at the dentist when I briefly fainted and whilst performing my graceful fall I managed to scatter all of the dental shit on the floor) I couldn’t quite believe it.  Yes we were planning.  But it was only 2 months since I stopped taking the pill.  My first thought was oh holy fuck.  My second thought was morning sickness.  Something I had dreaded all of my adult life.  I was happy…but a strange kind of happy.  Is it wrong to not feel complete elation?  I felt my phobia had already put a massive shadow over my happy news.

Immediately my body went into defence mode.  Ironically when you are an emetophobe (sounds like some kind of futuristic robot) when you get anxious you start to feel nauseous.  I spent the next few days on my own as my partner/fiancé (I fuckin hate the word fiancé it sounds so poncy so from now on he will be referred to as Yorkshire Daddy) was away with work.

That was when my mind went into overdrive.  Fuck work, fuck this little miracle growing inside my body, fuck everything else what the hell am I going to do if I get morning sickness?  I couldn’t get past it.  It was fuckin hard.

Anyone that has this phobia knows how it fucks with your mind every day.  I don’t think I have it as severe as some others, but the first trimester I spent feeling so ill practically all of the time.  I am not sure if it was pure luck or mind over matter but I managed to get through without being physically ill.  But the nausea was bad.  It took over my life.  Dare I say it I couldn’t even think about this wee bean growing in my belly soon to become the greatest love of my life.  I just wanted it to go away.

After about 20 weeks I felt better.  I didn’t look back since then really.  I had my moments but I was very lucky that I managed to go through my first pregnancy which I had avoided for YEARS without any sickness.

Now my little boy is 8 months old, despite the lead up to his birth and his actual birth (will blog this later) I feel stronger and much less anxious about my phobia.  I don’t think the phobia will ever go away but if I can survive a pregnancy without throwing up then I’m doing pretty good.

Back to the Nutella.  I do binge eat.  I’m not massive but still need to lose some baby weight.  But it’s like I have trained my body to know my cut off point so that I know if something will make me feel sick.  It’s just a pity that my cut off point is after half a jar of Nutella and a triple fuckin Bounty.

Why follow my blog?

This is the first difficult blog post.  Not sure what I should be saying??  Here I am lying on my bed thinking what the fuck can I type to make me stand out from all of the others.

I guess the only thing I can do is be me.  That is what

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Obligatory first shot trying to set up my blog page..I haven’t done HTML since university fucks sake I am clueless!

most of the popular bloggers tell you.  But I have a feeling I may regret it because the real me is not to everyone’s taste!

I swear a lot.  And these blogs will have swearing in them.  So if you are easily offended then you best quit now while you’re ahead.

So why follow me?  I will have a lot of funny moments to tell you about, and also a lot of serious moments to tell you about.  I am 38 years old.  Actually fuck no I am still 37…Jesus wishing my life away..I am originally Irish but been living in Leeds for nearly 20 years.  I am not going to bore you with my background…the whole fuckin Catholic upbringing and all that shite, I am who I am today.  Which is a first time mummy last October.  I will blog about my anxieties and phobias…and my life so far as a first time mum, because I think I have a good story to tell.

I am remaining anonymous for now.  Fuck can you imagine if I got really fuckin famous or rich then I wouldn’t have to tell anyone ha ha.  No no I just want to keep this anonymous for now because there are some fuckin weirdos out there and I could have my own mummy reading my blog which is NOT what I currently want.

So go on….follow me…fuckin follow my Twitter and Instagram and Facebook and I swear to you I will try to keep you entertained as well as tell you stories which you will relate to as a new mum as well as my advice for the first time mothers out there.  It’s fucking scary shit…but my God it is so worth it!!