Today’s prompt: dates
Welcome to day four! Pretty impressed with myself for managing to post for four days in a row, I must admit!
Hexmumblog’s #blogtober writing prompt today is: DATE.
Now, there have been several significant dates in my life.
21.10.1990 – the date I was born;
6.4.94 – the date my brother was born on the lounge floor;
19.9.09 – the date I started university;
28.10.10 – the date I met my husband;
21.10.11 – the date he proposed;
12.4.14 – our wedding date;
18.1.15 – the date we found out we were going to be parents;
A pretty life-changing date
…and many, many more memorable dates
which have shaped my life in one way or another.
The dates we saw our baby
Another pivotal date
in my life was September 11th 2015. Our baby’s ‘due date
‘ (a term I now seriously resent, and one which I will not think about if we have another baby – more on that here
Except, this magical date, the one we had spent months waiting for, came and it went. And so did the 12th, and the 13th, and the 14th of September. In fact, lots of days went by, and there was no signal that our baby was imminent. We had planned a home birth, and everything we needed sat in a box, waiting to be used.
Our due date came and went
I had a sweep, which did nothing, and I was booked for an induction for 40 weeks + 12 days, if baby hadn’t arrived by then. This would mean no home birth, that our baby would be born in hospital. My god, I tried everything to evict Squid naturally to avoid induction! Pineapple (so.much.pineapple!), curries, raspberry leaf tea, stomping on the beach stones, bouncing on a birthing ball and as much sex as a small whale can manage, but absolutely nothing was going to convince my womb-fruit to vacate!
And the 12th day after my ‘due date’ came and our baby had not arrived. So off we went, to the hospital for our induction.
(I didn’t know there were other options available to me – in the naivety of being a first time mum, I agreed with my health care professionals when they said that I ‘needed’ to be induced at 12 days ‘over due’, despite a text book pregnancy and no signs of foetal distress. I know for next time, but that’s a whole other blog post!)
At around 10am, I was induced via a pessary, and we were sent home to wait. Cue much more stomping around, up hills and staircases, and I began to have contractions. This was it! It was happening! We were going to meet our son.
The date was September 23rd 2015.
The date of our first induction passed without much action
Except… by around 5pm, the contractions had tailed off and were much less frequent, though still painful. At 7am the next day, again we hauled ourselves to the hospital for another round of induction via pessary, but this time, we weren’t allowed home: we would be at the hospital until our baby was born.
The date was Thursday, 24th September 2015.
The second induction didn’t work. I was contracting, but not dilating; in pain, but for no reason. No bugger would give me any pain relief, and it was agony. I was marching up and down the hospital stairs, bouncing on the ball and contracting away on the maternity ward, surrounded by other mamas who were being monitored for reduced movements and other pregnancy complications.
Between contractions I remember eating a chicken tikka baguette – the best baguette of my whole life, I’ll tell you! That was around 5pm, and after this, someone ran me a bath.
I spent about 4 minutes in the water before needing to get out – the pain was so intense that I felt as though I had lost my mind. I kept being told that I ‘wasn’t in labour’ to which I can remember retorting that if this wasn’t labour, someone would need to shoot me right then, because I couldn’t handle it for another second.
Finally, finally, someone listened to me and I was examined. And it turns out that, in actual fact, I was in labour, and already at 8 to 9cm dilated. All on one chicken tikka baguette. The midwives panicked a bit then, after realising I hadn’t been exaggerating about the pain, and whilst I was bouncing on the birthing ball, humming Humpty Dumpty to myself (it helped, okay!), someone, an angel, wheeled in the gas and air. Oh, gas and air. It was glorious. It was 7pm, I was finally ‘in labour’ and the gas and air was making me feel like I had drunk a whole bottle of gin. It was bliss and between contractions, I felt like I was on cloud 9!
After a while, the midwives asked me to walk to the delivery suite, and upon this instruction I am told that I apparently legged it, wearing nothing but a hospital gown, out of the labour ward and down the corridor to delivery!
Cheese and biscuits anyone?!
The rest is a bit of a blur, but highlights that I do
- Declaring to the midwives that it felt like I was at the student bar and everyone was my best friend;
- Asking the midwife if she liked cats or dogs, because I couldn’t let a dog lover be present at the birth of my baby;
- Declaring that my legs had turned into tentacles and I was, in fact, a squid!
- When the midwife asked if I had been drinking plenty, I replied ‘Who do you think I am?! I haven’t had a drink in 9 bloody months!!!’
- Getting cross that no one believed me that I wasn’t having a baby, I just needed a poo…
And then, finally, after all the commotion, I birthed our beautiful baby boy, all 9lb 9.25oz of him, in silence, untouched, in the birthing pool. It turned out that I didn’t need a poo, and the midwives had been correct: it was a baby…
Not on his due date but on the perfect date
It was 8.30pm exactly, on September 24th 2015.
The most eventful, the best, the scariest, most emotional date of my life.
Our long-awaited first date
What are the dates
that changed your life?
Join me tomorrow for another #blogtober post – all about education! Catch up on my other #blogtober posts here!
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Love, Squidmamma x