Down with the kids

Birth Story - an elective caesarian (Guest Post)

Birth stories come in all shapes and sizes. My only advice for my pregnant readers is to surround yourself with the happy ones! Here’s an uplifting story about the caesar delivery of a beautiful little boy. Take it away Bel!

The phone is ringing again. It is 3 days out from my elective caesar and the phone has been running hot with well wishers. Lovely and thoughtful I know, but the never ending barrage of questions such as “how do you feel?” and “are you excited?” were starting to get to me.

How do I feel? I was as nervous as hell and felt like every day was a marathon. Here I am 39 weeks pregnant, previously a fainter at the site (or mention) of blood and a first time Mum, facing my first trip to hospital since I was born. I was hardly embracing the thought of a caesar, or in fact any delivery of a baby whatsoever. Bub remained frank breech. There was no way I was pushing out a bottom first. At least I had time to “mentally” prepare for a caesar, as I was booked in 6 weeks in advance.

My intensive training for the caesar involved watching the Discovery Health Channel for any footage of caesars. I got braver at blood tests and engaged in some positive visualization exercises until I got bored with that and my thoughts wandered to what biscuits were in the cupboard. I now wished I had prepared more.

Am I excited? Well, I am having my first baby, what do people expect? I was in to “surprise minimisation” so elected to find out the gender as soon as we possibly could. We knew a baby boy was on the way. There are enough surprises with first time motherhood. Everything was ready. We had blue everything, a name chosen and so many hopes for our little boy.

I finally instructed husband that I was only talking to Mum if she called. In a daze of wanting to do a runner to Argentina and madly reassessing our choice of names, husband says “you better take this call, it is the hospital”. They were calling to confirm my admission details so it would be easy when I turned up for the birth of my baby. I was trying to stay very focused on the fact that it was ‘The Birth of My Baby’, not just a surgical procedure. This helped me immensely and I think made it a positive and non-threatening experience.

C-Day arrived. We had a 12 noon slot in theatre so were asked to come to the hospital at 10.30am. I was remarkably well rested. Husband and I had decided to have a ‘last supper’ the evening before so I consumed spicy Egyptian food and a glass of wine. I felt as if I were somewhat of a celebrity at the restaurant as people were staring at the obviously very advanced state of my belly. I ate as much as I possibly could as I knew I had to fast from 6 am the next morning. In fact, being as food obsessed as I am, this was making me even more anxious – how was I going to cope without breakfast? I woke at 9 am after 10 hours’ sleep. This was an absolute miracle and I attribute it entirely to that nice glass of chardonnay at dinner.

As we were driving to the hospital, I wondered how different I might feel if I were in labour. I expect things would be very different. I imagined what it might feel like to race from the and through the hospital foyer, charging towards the maternity wing. Instead, I kept a leisurely pace, drinking it all in, and was thrilled when I remembered I would leave with my baby son. My room was not ready so I was taken to the nursery. I think this was a very calming and positive thing as it again kept me very focused on the fact that I was having a baby. Husband was by my side as we sat there and looked at all the foreign objects scattered around the nursery and the breastfeeding poster on the wall.

I was ushered to my room after about 45 minutes, which was worth the wait, complete with water view. Unimportant of course, but a nice distraction all the same. The nurses started to come to check this and check that and ensure I was scrubbed and shaved and prepped and dressed in my lovely green hospital gown. As I stood in the shower and scrubbed my belly with the iodine soap, my mind was racing. It felt quite surreal. The mixture of nervous excitement, inevitability, with a large dose of fear was like nothing I had experienced previously. It was truly wonderful, not awful.

The anaesthetist came to discuss his plan. He had one of those lovely golden voices, so calming and reassuring, and matching salt and pepper hair to add to the degree of confidence I had. I felt as if I were in the most superior hands. The obstetrician breezed in for a last good luck. We were all set to go. Of course there is always the inevitable theatre delay. Another mum to be had decided to go in to labour at 32 weeks, so required an emergency caesar. She must have been feeling way worse than me.

Finally the theatre orderly arrived to collect me. As I was lying on the gurney being pushed along the corridor, I thought it was just like the movies. I was watching the down lights pass by above and felt like an impostor. I was completely capable of walking, so why did I have to lie down and be pushed like someone who was ill.

My first entry to an operating suite. My eyes were darting around, drinking in the activity while husband was taken to scrub up and put on his gown. The theater orderly informed me he was 17. He said it was so exciting I was having a baby. He proudly informed me his Mum had a baby boy two weeks previously and the joy was apparent on his face. He asked if I knew what I was having. “A boy” I informed him. He asked what his name would be but I said he would have to come back and find out later. He did.

The theater nurse then came along with her clipboard and checked my wrist tag, and other vital details to make sure I was actually supposed to be having a caesar. The questions felt like they went on forever. We finally made it to the anti-room of the theater. I could see my obstetrician preparing through the small glass porthole and was relieved to see a pleasant and familiar face. The theatre nurse inserted my cannula, which was slightly uncomfortable and had been a source of dread for me. I was running on adrenaline now. I was very focused on the fact that I was about to meet my little boy. Where the hell was husband? I did wish he was there as I was helped into a seated position for the spinal block. Another male theatre orderly arrived to help prop me forward as everyone was on notice I was a fainter.

Salt and pepper anesthetist assured me that the local anesthetic would not hurt while he joked about the fact that I was a lawyer. Where was that husband of mine? The local anesthetic stung and felt odd. I told the anesthetist he lied and we joked some more as he prepared the spinal. He told me to count to 10 and said that by the time I finished I would begin to feel numbness. I got to 3 and felt a warm surge like a dog was peeing on my legs. Another lie. 10 was a long way off and I was unable to move my legs by about 7.

Husband appeared as we went into the theatre, along with one of the midwifes we had previously met up in maternity. Again, a nice and timely reminder about why I was here – there was a baby coming very soon. It was bright and cold in theatre. The theatre staff introduced themselves and they took our birthing CD we had carefully chosen. The funky and dulcet tones soon filled the room and had the assistant surgeon bopping about. I lay there exposed as the obstetrician inserted the catheter and swabbed my belly with iodine again. I began to shiver uncontrollably. It was so cold and I felt sick. A mound of blankets soon arrived and the screen of green fabric was in place.

The obstetrician told me she was starting the incision. I felt ill again. Husband stroked my face and I tried hard to think about baby boy. The assistant surgeon started talking about the best place to get black and white film processed. I was momentarily cross as such an inane and irrelevant comment.

I feel tugging. It is not painful but it feels strange that someone is rearranging my internal organs. Before I knew it, the obstetrician said she could see the baby. So fast. I wanted to see him too. I strained to see my belly’s reflection in the stainless steel of the theatre light, but there was not enough detail. I had been warned to avoid this gruesome sight. Now I felt the complete opposite to how I thought I might. I wanted to know what was going on. The screen was lowered slightly and there he was, so chubby and beautiful and soft and crying ever so politely. A wave of relief took over along with exquisite contentment and happiness.

I lay there waiting for him to be weighed and APGAR checked in theatre, and returned to me. He landed on my chest and there he stayed while I was stitched. He looked just like he had in the 3D ultrasound, except in full glorious colour and smell and softness and beauty.

As I was wheeled to recovery I was in a daze. I looked around at some elderly patients still under general anesthetic and thought that I did not need to be here, surrounded by the sick. Luckily, recovery was not busy so it was possible for hubby and baby to come too along with the midwife. I had dreaded that post-caesar separation from baby. I made a special request the hospital were able to accommodate. Here we were in recovery, attempting the first breast feed. Baby lay on my chest and suckled upwards in search of nourishment. He clamped on and there he stayed. 3 vital sign checks later I was wheeled back to maternity, baby still suckling.

I could not wait to get up, eat a sandwich, phone family and friends. I wanted to embark on my new job without delay.

“Lets have another one soon” I say

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Welcome to the inaugural guest post!

Welcome to the inaugural - Down with the kids - guest blog! Mrs July is Bel, a mother of 2, with her very own Big Bro (20 months) and Little Sis (5 months)! She also has a career stored away somewhere in the freezer next to all that breast milk!

At the moment she is immersed in life down with the kids, as Maxwell Smart would say……and loving it!

Take it away Bel:

Whose husband goes over the phone bill in minute detail? We used to have a wizz bang deal where by I could talk and talk and talk all day for $3 capped anywhere in Australia, per call. The old days for charged long distance calls were gone. Hip hip hooray. This was liberating and, at will, I called all over Australia for glorious unlimited periods, and could never be accused of not staying in touch. I would chat and chat and chat and take advantage of baby’s nap times.

I think the phone company must have been losing too much money on this. Were Mums all over Australia calling long distance while their beautiful babies were asleep? Apparently so, as the phone company recently wrote to us and explained that the deal above mentioned had been discontinued in exchange for free local calls. Well, the problem arose because, being the modern woman, I do not really need to call local very often. I don’t need free local calls. I questioned some more. Who do I call locally? Most people I need to call for service provision in an emergency have that wonderful 1800/1300 prefix. Its free. We love 1800 or 1300 or 1whatever… I call no one locally very often (with the exception of my mother-in-law).

Bear in mind I am in Sydney. In fact, I need to call Tasmania for my mother, Melbourne for my best friend, Brisbane for my father, Townsville for my sister, the Gold Coast for my dearest and oldest friend, Canberra for my brother and Perth for my other brother. So I was a big user of the above mentioned offer. I am sure I am solely responsible for the losses that led to this great deal’s demise.

My very own DSO received the next phone bill, post abolition of the great capped deal that was gone forever. Being one to watch the spending (as am I), he went over it with a fine tooth comb. He said “There is a call for 86 minutes to Melbourne that cost $15. How can anyone talk for 86 minutes to the same person?”. He was quite incredulous that anyone could actually speak for a continuous period of 86 minutes.

I think it is a “guy” thing. They generally so not chat so long, either on the phone or in person. Well, let me explain. When you are home all day with a 20 month old and a 5 month old and you are sick of saying “poo poo”, “toot toot goes Thomas Tank Engine”, and “no”, that 86 minute phone call to the best friend seems like a very attractive option. There is so much to discuss. Even natural pauses in conversation assume meaning and offer an outlet of solace.

So how can we further justify $15 on an 86 minute telephone call? If I were to go to the office in the city, like I did before the babies everyday, I would arrive to spend $2.50 (at least) on a soy flat white. Then at lunch time, I would cruise the nearest foodhall for a caesar salad or some appropriate low fat sandwich and a bottled water for a grand total of about $10. If I were working late, I would then require another coffee for at least $2.50. I think I have spent my $15 already on just getting through the work day. Not to mention that if I were not at home looking after 2 babies, in that short 86 minutes I spent gabbing away, I could certainly shop with the best of them to incur a shopping bill in the order of $500 at my favourite retail outlet.

So, I was then able to convince DSO that $15 on an 86 minute phone call was in fact a saving. The truth of the matter is that once the phone bill came in, I was very distressed at the prospect of not being able to talk freely for a capped amount. I am also sure this takes me back to my lawyer days of 6 minute units for everything. I do not want to be timed, nor do my children and nor do my phone calls. Bring back the capped long distance calls!!!!

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