Birth story 20/05/2011

My experience of being a mother is exactly what I imagined minus about 2800 hours of sleep. Maybe more. My little boy is exactly how I imagined my child to be. He is adventurous, brave, confident, friendly, loving, cuddly, loud, fun and active. Mostly like his father but every now and then he does something which proves my gene pool was present in his genetic make up. We like the same foods, we have lots of fine, curly hair and he has my maternal grandfather's eyes. I love him. I will say it again, I LOVE HIM! He is such a joy and delight. There are many challenges, especially at the stage he is at; pushing boundaries, finding it difficult to share, answering everything with no... The list goes on. When I think about our challenges over the past 2 years nothing comes close to the day he was born.

My first visit to the gynae was to address my very irregular slash non existent menstrual cycle. She suggested we leave all birth control tablets alone and see how it went for the next year when Shaun and I would be ready to discuss children approaching 2 years of marriage, 8 and a half since we started dating. I plotted and graphed for 10 months. One day, on a whim, I decided to do a pregnancy test. I had just accepted a new job and one of the questions was about when I would be starting a family. I wanted to make sure I knew for certain before starting even though I had already accepted the post. Double line. I couldn't believe it. We did blood tests to confirm as I needed more proof and we told our parents. The 8 or 9 weeks I was pregnant I didn't feel at peace and when I started bleeding one Monday evening I knew that that was that. We went for a scan where there was no heart beat and the baby measured 3 weeks smaller than expected and we confirmed with a blood test which by this point I didn't need as I had start to pass blood clots and had terrible contractions for 2 days. I had a D & C which was actually a good experience. It is quick and painless and upon going under general anesthetic, my doctor rubbed my hand while we spoke about my baby being in heaven.

Shaun and I waited a cycle and then decided to wait until the new year until we tried to extend our family. Pah ha! The very next month I knew from the week of conception that I was pregnant. I did a pregnancy test and it was negative but I still wasn't convinced. I pushed the thought to the back of my head without discussing it with anyone even though a teacher at my school told me one of her 9 year old students had told her she thought I was pregnant! Two weeks went by and I did the test again. It was on a Tuesday, the day our housekeeper visited us (bless her) and Shaun happened to be in Durban with his dad. I had friends coming for dinner and I sat nibbling on my food, counting down the minutes until Shaun came home. A friend ended up staying over that night but that didn't stop me from telling Shaun our news. He was in shock and disbelief but his words to me were "We are going to have a son!" I had nausea until 21 weeks and felt kicks from about 16. I was in heaven. I always wanted to be pregnant and knew I was made to be a mother. My pregnancy was incredibly anxious for many reasons including being booked into hospital at 6 weeks with sever cramping but nothing to raise alarm bells for how it ended. We tried to find out what we were having but our little guy, being the feisty character he is, wouldn't show us so we decided to have a surprise which I don't regret.

At 30 weeks, 3 days before my 27th birthday I was admitted to hospital as I started having contractions. They were inconsistent but painful enough to leave me lying on the floor. That day, a Sunday, Shaun and I had taken friends dinner upon their return from hospital with their newborn little boy. She saw what I was experiencing and urged me to call my doctor. Instead I left it and had a rest. As I tend to do. Shaun watched a soccer game and I remember got quite irritated that I wanted to phone the hospital. I phoned anyway and they recommended I come in rather. We made the 30 minute journey, I was hooked up to the monitors and the midwife came to check up on us. My first tip to all parents to be is always go to antenatal classes at your hospital. It was so comforting knowing the staff and maternity ward already. My dear doctor arrived at 7:30pm to see what was going on for herself. She is a gem! On a Sunday evening she had gone for a run and turned around and bolted to the hospital as soon as she got the call. She is so dear to my heart and my main reason for having more children, I miss her! I ended up being released that evening after they were confident that the baby was okay. I was given antibiotics and a week of bed rest (which I didn't take...) to treat a bladder infection.

My bed rest was cut short due to the school I worked at at the time requiring me to come in and me not having learnt to say no yet. The following weekend Shaun and I went up to his family's farm in Still Bay for Easter and I just did not feel right. I didn't like the drive up, I didn't like being so far away from my doctor and I didn't like how I felt. I ended up spotting a little on the Sunday evening and immediately phoned the emergency number for my doctor. Dr Botha called right back (after hours on Easter Sunday night!!!) and as I had seen her on the Thursday she said she thought it may have been from my infection. The baby was still moving quite excitedly so that was also reassuring. We made plans for a check up the next week and we carried on as normal.

Three more weeks went by and it was pretty uneventful. My feet started swelling which I thought was normal and I started seeing a few spots in the sky, also normal, right? WRONG. On a Friday, when I was 33 weeks pregnant I lost my vision, my speech and any sense of calm I had been hanging on to until then. A perceptive little 6 year old girl in my class went and called another teacher who happened to be in her classroom. My colleagues all had frees but trust my luck that that day the timetable changed and I had to teach. I was taken home and a friend took me to have my blood pressure checked. It had been normal until then so I wasn't too sure what sparked this friend to think of that. It was astronomically high for me and I called my doctor. My mother in law arrived and drove me to the hospital where again baby was checked and I was sent home on strict bed rest. We had the discussion about keeping the baby in until 37 weeks and I was told that work was over with now. I stayed home the Monday and Tuesday (completely bored) and went to vote on the public holiday, 18 May 2011. I had a check up on the Thursday morning where everything seemed normal (which apparently does not mean return to work, Cara, who knew?) and she drew some blood to check on a few other things. At 2pm I let my girls out and I immediately got a call from my mum saying my gynae had been trying to get hold of me and was furious that I was at work. I was carted back off to hospital as my test results were bad and I had to have a 24 hour urine test. Lovely! I was very spoilt due to the fact that I knew the staff well after my 30 week visit and antenatal classes. Although writing this now I think maybe the fact that I got a private room right in front of the nurses station was probably due to my disobedience and my doctor wanting to make sure I didn't get up to any more tricks.

Further testing was done and when my doctor got the results she came to see me and told me she needed to speak to her partner about delivering either that day or the Monday. When I saw the urgency in her face I knew ‘this’ wasn't actually in my power. I had tried to control everything until this point but it just wasn't going to go my way any longer. I had planned to have a doula, delivery to be natural and preferably 4 days after my due date when our GAP cover would kick in for the birth. I was so emotional. I felt like I could be losing another child but actually all I lost was control over a completely uncontrollable situation. It has been the biggest lesson I have had to learn. My gynae assured me that nothing would happen to "our" (being hers, his and mine) baby on her watch and she called me an hour later saying her colleague agreed, delivery would be today, 20 May 2011. Exactly one month after my birthday and I love the number 20.

On a whim, the night before the birth I had told Shaun to charge the camera. He almost hadn't as we were both so deep in denial that we were becoming parents so suddenly. That Friday, he got his very first flat tyre and said his very first very rude word while driving to the hospital. My family arrived and we waited for things to start. Contractions had begun, signaling to me that physically my body was ready to deliver. I begged to be induced so I could have my natural labour but my doctor was in such a rush to get our baby out that she could only explain simply why this could not be done and that I needed surgery as soon as possible. The surgery was quiet, fairly quick and rather unemotional. He didn't cry, we couldn't cut the cord and shortly after delivery, the pediatrician, our new baby and Shaun bolted up to the NICU. I was sewn up while my doctor and her partner chatted and then I was wheeled into recovery. There I was told that I would not be going up to see my baby but instead would be spending the night in ICU. I tried to cry but I had nothing. I had various visitors, I took a sleeping tablet and I checked Facebook for photos my husband posted of our son. I had a son. A son that I had not held, fed or named. I cry as I write about this two years later and although I think I have healed there is still so much sadness.

At 5am the next morning the pediatrician on duty came to introduce himself and tell me that my little boy was being taken off CPAC and had received my milk which the amazing lactation consultant at the Kingsbury Hospital, Pauline had hand expressed. I started to worry that my little boy wouldn't recognise me, that we wouldn't bond and that I wouldn't love him. At midday I was wheeled back upstairs into a general ward as I didn't have my baby with me I didn't get first choice of room. The three other ladies in the ward all had their babies. They cried and fed and dirtied their nappies which their mothers got to change. I had none of that. I couldn't move as I was still in so much pain from the c-section and my baby lay down the hall away from me while my husband got to cuddle and touch. I was wheeled to see him and eventually put in a wheelchair for the staff to transport me back and forth. Due to the complications surrounding my condition, GPH, I was still very woozy and not able to walk. My blood pressure hadn't come down yet which was highly unusual so I felt like I was going to explode momentarily.

I had visitors, I tried ineffectively to eat and was in a lot of pain. I decided to get up and walk as soon as I was allowed even though I had never felt so much pain thanks to the emergency ceaser. I do wonder if my slow healing had to do with my attitude towards the surgery. I walked to and from the NICU, battling to stay calm, having panic attacks and feeling completely out of control. In the early hours of the Sunday morning, after the nursing staff eventually put me in my own room rather reluctantly I pulled myself towards myself. I had let the nurses tell me what was best for my child when I knew he needed to be with me. I removed him from his incubator and placed him skin to skin on my chest. I had been trying to express until this point with very little luck which had started to further stress me out. I had nurses barking in my ears about 4 hourly feeds, timing feeds and telling me to go sleep with the help of a sleeping tablet.

Deep breath in. Shut voices up. Baby on boob. Suck. Success. He has barely left that place since.

The one part of motherhood I could control was listening to my instincts and doing what I could for my child. It didn’t all go well from then on. We chose to have him circumcised which was a rather negative experience. My father rather inappropriately voiced his opinion and the doctor we had, Dr Barnard, was an utterly awful man and will not be allowed within ten feet of my next child, boy or girl. He also did not remove enough skin on the circumcision and removed too much on another boy born in our antenatal group. This little boy had to have a skin graft and further surgery. A few of the nurses gave me conflicting advice about breastfeeding but luckily I had Pauline and then my amazing clinic run by Lynne Heydenrech in Constantia. I also had a very big disagreement with the pediatrician the hospital assigned us despite her amazing photographing skills at the birth. In saying that, next time round I am still keen to deliver at the Kingsbury. It is like a hotel, it is familiar and it is the only hospital where my doctor delivers babies. The sisters are caring and loving and came as quick as I pressed the call button. I will have a different attitude though. I will go in with an open mind although I will prepare myself in every way to deliver naturally. I will not listen to others but instead my own heart and spend as much time as I feel is necessary with my child on my chest. I also know that it is not my birth story but my child’s and he has no memory of the 20 hours we spent a part. We couldn’t be closer or more in love and it is a great pity that I had to lose control in order to learn that you actually cannot control it all and sometimes, on the odd occasion, you have to let go and just trust because honestly you have no other option.