Ok, Here's Mine: 15's Arrival

When I became pregnant with 15, hubby and I weren't married, but had been engaged for 5 years. Becoming pregnant made us sit up and say "holy hell, best get our arses into action!". 1989 was a big, no HUGE, year for us. We got married, built the house and became parents all before September. Stress levels were high.

I'm 9 months pregnant. Waking up at 1am, I felt some movement in my stomach and heard a snap...not a loud one...it sounded similar to a pencil snapping. I nudged my husband, waking him and said "it sounded like the baby's snapped a bone or something". He looked at me weirdly. He got out of bed, came round my side, helped me out so I could get to the toilet, and as I was waddling my way to the loo, I felt liquid dribbling down my legs. Ok, this is a new feeling...Ye gads, it must be starting!

I yell at hubby that something odd is happening down there...and him being the sex fiend that he was (and always interested in whatever was happening down there) comes to chat about the details of it with me while I'm taking a pee. He's back in bed by the time I waddle back from the loo. "What are you doing??! You can't go back to bed NOW!"

He climbed sleepily out of bed and rang the hospital to find out what our next move should be. "Is this your first baby?"...."Yes"..."ok, bring her in now then"....so we got dressed, chucked the bag together and drove to the hospital, with me ouching and aahing all the way over the bumps. He was driving madly to get there, yet swinging round corners and flying over bumps wasn't great for me as I was having contractions.

We get to the hospital, the night nurse looks at us boredly, puts us in a room and says "You won't have this baby til around noon, so try and relax as much as possible ok?" How is that possible when I could hear some woman down the hallway yelling all the time??

Back track a couple of months...my GP rings and asks me for permission to have a medical student involved in my delivery. I say yes, and said student comes up later that week to write up an essay of some sort on my pregnancy's ins and outs and this is where I discover I got pregnant due to taking vitamin C (well, taking lots of it on a regular basis and then stopping completely, hormone drop..blah blah).

Back to the hospital....Medical student arrives, as does my mother and brother. I, being the organised person that I can be, had taken a deck of cards to the hospital, expecting to be hours waiting and thought playing cards would be a practical way to while away the time. Hubby deals the cards out all over the bed...I'm standing up rocking by this stage, moaning (and not quietly I might add) through contractions, and in a fit of pique, sweep my hand across the bed, flinging all cards unceremoniously to the floor. "I don't want those there right now thank you" (translated to: "What the hell?? Are you fucking kidding me??!").

He helps me onto the bed, as the midwife has arrived to have a look-see. (Those that have had hospital births, will know that at this stage you have no dignity left and any time anyone comes into the room, you automatically flop your legs open). Hubby is sitting at the head of the bed beside me...let me just add...my husband, whenever under stress tends to pull out his irish roots and cracks jokes to try making light of the situation. He said something that was supposed to be funny...I took one look at him and without even thinking, smacked him right in the jaw with my fist. At this point the medical student and my mother both vacated the room rather speedily. (Aaww, where'd they go?") Hubby on the other hand, is still looking at me smiling like he didn't notice anything different (gotta hand it to the man here, he deserved a gold star for that effort.)

I need to go to the toilet... I'm parked up on the loo, hubby crouching in front of me, his hands turning white, while I go through another contraction and I'm saying "Go tell that nurse I want an epidural, and don't you let her tell you I can't have one ok? Be assertive!"...He does as I request...I'm back on the bed and the Anaesthetist turns up...too late, baby's head is visible. Bugger, that's so unfair, give me drugs! Right, time for delivery, I'm being wheeled to theatre "no, my doctor isn't here yet, I'm waiting for him before I do anything else". Stubborn bitch. Course, 15 wasn't waiting, he wanted out...now.

Ok, this is getting too long....here's the rest quick-step format;

- I give up waiting for the doctor, besides my body is involuntarily pushing;
- The med student is watching, his eyes as big as saucers, he was no help at all;
- My mother is out in the waiting room explaining each grunt and groan to my younger brother("Now she's bearing down");
- I touch 15's head after it's out, just resting there between my legs...the weirdest thing I ever experienced that was;
- 15's pushed out in 8 minutes...placenta follows not long after;
- I haemmorraged (heard the nurse saying "it's dripping off the bed on this side");
- Doctor finally turns up in time to check baby over and give me stitches....he gives me a local injection, I say "shit", his response "no, no sign of that down here";
- Hubby stands at the bedside looking down at me and baby...tears in his eyes "I'm so proud of you".

Next day, I go to the toilet and have a weird sensation down there....a lazy piece of placenta comes out...next thing I know, my husband is running down the hospital corridor yelling "Nurse! Nurse! Come quick! A piece of meat just fell out of my wife!" Reading back over this now, I'd be surprised if the poor bastard actually felt anything other than immense relief when we split up.
(Sorry H&B, if you managed to read this far, I really did try to keep it as "bleech-free" as possible for you.)

7lb 2oz baby boy, arrived 4.55am, 1 September 1989 (on his due date and he's been as precise ever since).

4 hours of utter bitch, but worth it in the end.