Standing alone in a bungalow bathroom in South Africa I laughed out loud to see the positive line on my pregnancy test, then promptly burst into tears, miles from home I didn’t want to tell my husband over the phone as I wanted to really 'share' the news with him so secretly pregnant and a week away from my husband the very last thing on my mind was how my little peanut would enter the world I just knew she was here and I loved her and life was about to become very different
Fast forward about 6 months and all I could think of was birth and planning. I had been advised (wrongly) against home birth because I had something called Group B Strep and I should be in a hospital ! I'd also suffered with SPD and so was rather nervous about being mobile, and not in pain. My due date was 1st December but I KNEW she was coming on 29th November, no one wants to have a December birthday (as Peanut's Godmother will tell you) and duly on the 29th what could only be a real proper contraction got me very excited.
We had plans for dinner at one of my Best friends (the Godmother with the December Birthday) and we stuck to them as I was doing ok if a little uncomfortable, I spent the evening chatting and bouncing on a ball, came home and we went to bed, but at 2am I excitedly told Spartacus it was time and off we went to our local delivery suite and so the story turns sour......
Im afraid you are still only 1cm! What Ive been at this hours you must be mistaken! So it continued, irregular but strong contractions for 3 more days, interspersed with no sleep, visits to the hospital only to be told still 1-2cm but waters are bulging! I researched latent labour with a sinking dread, surely this couldn’t go on for weeks I needed help, so crying with self pity on 1st December I trundled in for a shot of Diamorphine, and settled down for some much needed rest, I sent my husband home at 7pm and started to snooze, at 8.50pm I got up to fill my little cardboard sample pot, presently sat down on the loo and with a huge audible pop the sample pot shot out of my hands with the force of my waters breaking! So the husband was called back and it all became very very real. Eight hours, two courses of IV antibiotics a shot of diamorphine and much proclaiming that I just couldn’t do it later Peanut was handed to me all gooey and slimy and pointy headed from all the pushing.
My first thought was 'well you're here then'. I will be honest, the sleep deprivation the drugs I hadn’t wanted and the 2 hours of pushing had really stunned me and my bolt of pure love and adoration, well that came later. My girl fed like a star, cried like,well like a baby and did all that she was supposed to. But weeks on I still felt like I had failed a bit, no natural birth no calm serene loving event. But at the same time our bond was growing into something fierce and primal and despite my disappointment at not having the romantic picture perfect birth I had envisaged I knew immediately we would do it again and soon. After all I had done it, no matter how, she was mine and she was here and safe and I DID THAT! Hear me roar I am amazing, I grew her and talked to her and sacrificed quite happily for her, I worked hard for her and she was here in my arms loving me (as long as food and comfort were in plentiful supply)
So the adventure began, the sleepless nights and constant worry, the joy and smiles and giggles, the colic and teething and parental guilt, the weaning, the holidays and 9 months later.... a very clear blue line!