kilted_wondress (kilted_wondress) wrote in pregnancystory,

My beautiful boy

Are you or have you ever been pregnant?
On June 11th 2001 I delivered my beautiful baby boy, Findlay Stephen William. He weighed 7lb 11oz.

Did you consider abortion? Why? or why not?
Not in this pregnancy. Findlay was planned and very much wanted by both his Daddy and I

Did you make the right decision? Why? or Why not?
I was more than happy to be pregnant - ecstatic, overjoyed, thrilled, all of these, yet none quite hits how I felt. I was overcome.

Did the pregnancy go without complications?
I'm yet to hear of anyone who has a pregnancy without complications. At around 14 weeks I had the urge to sleep constantly, and it was more than just your pregnancy tiredness - I would physically fall asleep talking to people, eating etc. I was never sick, but suffered with terrible nauseous feeling to the extent that I barely ate anything except creme eggs and apricots for most of my pregnancy. At 20 weeks I started suffering from Pubis Symphisis (sp) and consequently had to give up work at 32 weeks instead of staying until 38 weeks as I had planned. I spent the last 11 weeks of my pregnancy either in bed or on the sofa. Findlay was 6 days late.

My contractions started on the Thursday night, but were not strong enough to bother me until the Saturday lunchtime, when my waters broke as I made my Dad a cup of tea. I went straight to the hospital and was told my the (bitch) midwife that my waters were intact, and that I had wet myself (in actual fact, my forewaters had gone, but my hindwaters were intact) and she sent me home.

Alan and I stopped at Asda (Walmart) and got something to eat - hysterical for the average onlooker when every 4 minutes or so I would get off my chair and onto my hands and knees in the middle of the cafe and start groaning. After eating, we decided to visit Alan's mum instead of going home, as we lived in a 3rd floor apartment and I couldn't face walking up the stairs. We ended up staying there after I fell asleep.

Sunday morning I've been contracting for a wee while now and I'm starting to get really pissed off. I wake up at 6am having had very little sleep, and Alan, his Mum and I head to the hospital again. This time they keep me in, and admit me onto a ward. I am put in a double room with a woman who has delivered a premature baby which didn't survive. The stress of hearing her cry to her visitors and taking them to see the baby in the morgue stops my contractions and probably upsets her as well. Later in the afternoon I'm moved to another room with 3 other labouring Women. That night, I am up all night, walking around the ward with contractions and end up going for an aromatherapy bath at 5am and I don't get back out until 8am. I am sent for a scan to see whether my waters are intact and the sonographer tells me that my baby is on it's way because my placenta is black and speckled. I get back onto the ward and burst into tears through sheer exhaustion and pain. My midwife examines me and finds that I am 5cm dilated. She sends me down to delivery just as Alan arrives.

Monday afternoon, 12.30 and I have just arrived in delivery. The lovely midwife gives me an injection of diamorphine, which I (wrongly) assume will kill the pain. Oh no - all it does is make me fall asleep in between contractions. I end up giving Alan a black eye when he pulls the gas and air away from my mouth too many times. At 3pm I tell the midwife I need to pee. She tells me I don't. I assure her I definately do. She tells me I don't, it's the baby pressing on my bladder. I freak out calling her every name under the sun. She laughs at me and gets me a bedpan. I sit on the bedpan for 20 minutes before conceding defeat and admitting that no, I don't need to pee. I go back to sleep again. I wake up to be faced with the AntiChrist of all midwives, who tells me I have half an hour to get to 10cm or she's going to put me on a drip (I hate needles) Remarkably, half an hour later I'm at 10cm dilated, and I start pushing. Findlay finally appears at 5.40pm

He's now 3 and a half years old, and the joy of my life. Alan and I split up due to my Postnatal depression, but remain on talking terms for Findlay's sake :)

Here's a photo of me and the boy

  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic
  • 1 comment