Saturday, 28 March 2015

The Dummy Mummy

should i give my baby a dummy manchester blog


It's been almost six months and already, I have broken every damn parenting standard I set myself.

"I'll never give my baby a dummy"

Failed.

"I'll never give my baby formula"

Failed again.

"I'll never give my baby jars of baby food".

You guessed it; failed once more.

It's not until you become a parent, and are actually in shitty nappies up to your eyeballs, that you find yourself doing the things you swore you would never do.

The dummy. The dummy saved our sanity when brand new baby woke every hour on the hour through the night. After a couple of weeks we realised that baby didn't need feeding every time he woke; sometimes he just wanted comfort and the dummy offered him that. Waking up 8 times instead of 10 times in the night may not sound like a significant  triumph, but an extra 30 minutes kip for the sleep-deprived new parents is like winning the lottery. Twice.

Yes the plastic thing looked alien and wrong in my babies mouth the first time I stuck it in, and yes I cried at my own failings as a parent, but I got over it pretty quickly when I saw how he took to it.

I'm not exaggerating when I say it changed our lives.

I spent  a fortune on orthodontic dummies, as I thought that was the best ting to do, but my baby hated them. He would only use the mega cheap cherry-ended ones.

My favourites are the cute animal ones from Boots where a pack of 2 is only 2 quid.

I am well aware that the 'dummy bashers' will tell me I am only making a rod for my own back and that I might struggle to wean him off it in the future.

To them I say: 

So what?

I will cross that dummy-weaning bridge when I come to it. At around 18 months I hope I will have emerged from the other side of new parenthood and will be well equipped to deal with that later.

But for now, sleep is the most important thing to me. I can't parent on no sleep . 

I'll take the risk.

I'll take anything right now.

should i give my baby a dummy manchester blog

a birth story labour and delivery baby blog
You can read all my PREGNANCY updates HERE
You can read all my BEAUTY updates HERE
You can read all my HEALTHY updates HERE

On Instagram - find me HERE Or Facebook or Twitter

Friday, 27 March 2015

Lolita Lempicka Eau de Parfum

So I've always argued that I could never wear Lolita Lempicka as it's my sissy's signature scent and that just wouldn't be right.
I somehow ended up aquiring a bottle of the stuff and now, God damn it, I am hooked!

It's the bottle you see. It's magical. And I am still a fairy princess in my 5 year old brain's daydreams.

The smell is pretty beautiful too; liquorice and vanilla .

Romantic, whimsical, feminine and enchanting; I have fallen in love with Lolita.

What is your signature scent?

a birth story labour and delivery baby blog
You can read all my PREGNANCY updates HERE
You can read all my BEAUTY updates HERE
You can read all my HEALTHY updates HERE


On Instagram - find me HERE Or Facebook or Twitter

Monday, 23 March 2015

Oast House Hanging Kebab


A thing to do before you die.

Beef, chicken or cheese and mushrooms. The meat is 'hanged' over a bowl of fries and your waiter then pours a load of garlic butter on top of the contraption in front of your hungry face which then sexily slides down  the meat and coats the chips in a juice so delicious that you will experience a full on food epiphany.

Add a cold beer and sunshine for the best day of your damn life!

oast house hanging kebab
oast house hanging kebab
oast house hanging kebab

a birth story labour and delivery baby blog
You can read all my PREGNANCY updates HERE
You can read all my BEAUTY updates HERE
You can read all my HEALTHY updates HERE

On Instagram - find me HERE Or Facebook or Twitter

Sunday, 22 March 2015

Baby Style #1 | Tigger

tigger bear baby outfit snow suit cute
I don't know what it is about babies in bear outfits but it just kills me with the cuteness of it - I think it's the ears.

So we took the cuteness up a level in Arturo's Tigger snow suit!

Tiggers are wonderful things!

tigger bear baby outfit snow suit cute
tigger bear baby outfit snow suit cute



The Knott Bump & Us

a birth story labour and delivery baby blog
You can read all my PREGNANCY updates HERE
You can read all my BEAUTY updates HERE
You can read all my HEALTHY updates HERE

On Instagram - find me HERE Or Facebook or Twitter

Friday, 20 March 2015

Staff of Life


staff of life todmorden

Just out of Todmorden and over-looked by the impressive Eagles Crag, the Staff of Life has it all. From the magical Aladdin's cave decor, to the extensive, flexible and delicious menu, I cannot recommend this place highly enough .

staff of life todmorden

Pete went for the Gourmet Burger topped with smoked bacon, melted cheddar cheese, and herb mustard Mayo. I stole one of his chips and they were perfect.

staff of life todmorden

I fancied soup but I also really wanted pate so the chef created me a taster board of tenderstem broccoli and cheese soup and chicken liver, rosemary and honey Pate served with plum chutney and sourdough toast. It was divine .

staff of life todmorden
staff of life todmorden
staff of life todmorden

I really can't wait to return to this absolute gem of a pub.



staff of life todmorden

You can read all my PREGNANCY updates HERE
You can read all my BEAUTY updates HERE
You can read all my HEALTHY updates HERE

On Instagram - find me HERE Or Facebook or Twitter

Monday, 16 March 2015

My Labour and Delivery // A Birth Story

a birth story labour and delivery baby blog


My Labour and Delivery // A Birth Story

This post may be considered TMI for some, so those of a sensitive nature, look away now! Also, this post is a very honest account of my labour and delivery which is quite negative in parts, so if you are following hypnobirthing or only looking for positive birth stories then I would advise you not to read mine.

Before

Being an over-analyser, I had many apprehensions and worries about my impending labour which changed over the course of my pregnancy, but my major 3 trepidations (excluding, of course, dying) were the following:

1 – Having a long labour. I was worried about having such a long early labour that I would be in pain for days, exhausted, and unable to push Baby out when it came down to the crunch.

2 – Tearing ‘down below’. The thought of stitches in my area really made me feel a bit queasy – but not as queasy as the thought of an episiotomy (definition:  a surgical cut in the perineum made just before delivery to enlarge your vaginal opening). That’s gotta sting a little.

3 – Doing a poo. After reading umpteen birth stories on blogs and speaking to girl friends, most of them (well the honest ones anyway) admitted to doing a poo in labour. When you think about it properly it’s hard to imagine NOT doing a poo, especially when you’re being told to “push into your bottom like you’re doing a poo”. Now the Hubby and I have been together a long time, and there’s not much of me he hasn’t seen before, but the thought of doing a poo in front of a load of strangers is not the magical birthing experience I was hopeful for.

Looking back at these worries now make me laugh, as little did my pregnant self know, two out of the three were about to come true…….

***

I finished work at 37 weeks and languished in the last warm days of summer, lugging my humongous  carcass around the house and occasionally venturing out into the garden to peg out. I was too massive to go anywhere or do anything that would be considered interesting. I watched, with accumulating apprehensions,  the facebook group our NCT class had set up for news of any new arrivals, and one by one the babies were born. Many of them were early and not in the order we were expecting. I was scheduled second to last and the suspense was slowly killing me.

At 38 weeks I was convinced I would go early too. The wait was hard. And strange. This was my body, but it was about to do something out of my control of its own accord and I had no idea when it was going to do it. Even the experts don’t know what actually triggers the onset of labour: tis a mystery!

If my waters didn’t go, how would I know when I was in labour if I just had mild cramps? How would I spot a real contraction from another bloody Braxton Hick?

In addition to being convinced I would go early, I was also convinced I would go days overdue (don’t question the logic of a crazy pregnant lady ok!?).

The Show

Three days before my due date, in the early hours of Monday morning, I trundled off to my, probably 7th, wee of the night, and thought I noticed a tiny about of blood. The bathroom was dark and my eyes were scrunched up, but I knew it was some of my mucus plug. Yes, nobody tells you these things before you get pregnant do they? A big blob of blood and gunge blocks the cervix when you are pregnant to protect baby from infection and when your cervix starts to dilate, bits obviously drop out and can be an early sign of labour. When a massive bit drops out, i.e most of the plug, this is called your official ‘show’.

Instead of feeling excited I was too exhausted to care as I guessed since I didn’t have any contractions, baby wasn’t imminent. I didn’t even utter a word to my snoring husband as I heaved myself back into bed and fell asleep.

In the morning I skipped to the loo and excitedly had a wee in the light. I’d never been so excited to go to the toilet in my whole life. There wasn’t so much as a speck of blood or mucus. How disappointing. I thought I must have imagined lasts nights events so I didn’t mention anything to Pete. I knew he hated going to work every day with me being so close, but I didn’t want him to unnecessarily waste any paternity leave by staying at home and fretting.

So off he went to work and I spent the morning doing bugger all. That afternoon, Baby felt extremely low and heavy and I was thrilled to discover some bloody mucus on the toilet paper. The only time when you can be truly happy about finding bloody mucus anywhere on your body is when you are full term and fed up.

I decided to go to Asda as I needed some bit’s for tea so I put on the biggest sanitary towel I could find (just in case) and off I went. As I pottered around the aisle, very slowly, I watched people going about their daily business and had a secret smile: my world was about to change; my baby was on its way, and nobody knew but me.

As I got in the car and drove the short journey home, an overwhelming feeling washed over me and I burst into tears; I felt scared. I was a little scared of the pain that was about to come, but it was really the fear of the unknown; I was going to be a mother. I had never experienced any emotion like it, but I think it was my body telling me: here we go….

Pete’s psychic powers were in full swing that afternoon as no sooner had I wiped the tears from my eyes and blown my nose, he phoned me. I told him things were happening and I was scared, but decided he shouldn’t rush home just yet. He reassured me he was only 15 minutes away on a job and he could be by my side as soon as I needed him. I felt instantly better hearing my husband’s comforting voice.

That evening I started experiencing mild cramps which kept coming and going. I was excited. We timed them with a contraction app: 20 minutes apart lasting between 40 seconds and one minute. I was fervently awaiting the magic number: 3 minutes apart lasting one minute, before we could head off to hospital. At this point the pain was very mild, about 1 out of 10. We went to bed as normal and I slept quite well! I think sleep was achievable because I was so used to being uncomfortable and experiencing weird cramps every single night anyway.

Albion


a birth story labour and delivery baby blog

Tuesday morning. I told Pete I needed him with me and so his paternity leave commenced that day. We kept it just between the two of us that my contractions had started and it was lovely to have that one last little bit of privacy as a twosome before our lives changed forever. We cleaned the house together and at 9.30am my contractions were 14 minutes apart lasting 40 seconds. We headed out for breakfast to Albion Farm shop and cafĂ© in Saddleworth and I religiously timed my contractions on the app. Breakfast was so peaceful and I found it both funny and strange that I was out and about whilst in early labour. We had a little potter around the farm shop and ate ice-cream. I was so disappointed that my contractions had become very irregular and now reduced to every 30 minutes. They were going in the wrong direction! As we walked, very slowly, back to the car, Pete persuaded me to take a break from the contraction timer as I was obsessed with it and it really wasn’t helping my mental state. As we drove down the bumpy hill I had a strong contraction which really hurt going over speed bumps and I shouted at Pete because he didn’t drive slowly enough.


a birth story labour and delivery baby blog


a birth story labour and delivery baby blog


a birth story labour and delivery baby blog


Back at home we had a two hour kip as we guessed we would need the sleep and I work up with a strong contraction. I was getting really pissed off that my contractions were irregular and about 30 minutes apart. It had been 24 hours since the first twinge and I’d made no real progress. How long was this going to go on for?

Walter White

For the rest of Tuesday afternoon I bounced on my ball. I was determined for that baby’s head to stimulate the cervix and break my damn waters (because then I could go to hospital). I watched a bit of comedy on Netflix (Ed Byrne and Dave Gorman) whilst Pete finished painting his Walter White. Slowly, slowly, my contractions increased to 10 minutes apart and were 5 minutes apart at 10pm. The pain was getting more intense – 4 /10. I had a warm bath, and took more paracetamol. At 1am my contractions were 3 minutes apart lasting about 55 secs. Hooray! 


a birth story labour and delivery baby blog
a birth story labour and delivery baby blog


I rang the hospital and spoke to a midwife support worker. We chatted for a few minutes and I got the impression she didn’t believe I was very far along as she said “you can still talk through your contractions”. I was majorly pissed off. Perhaps I’m just good with the pain. I’m definitely not one of these women who will crawl on the floor screaming. Lucky for me the birthing centre was quiet so she said we could go in to get checked over if we really wanted to. We decided to go in as for some reason I chose to put my faith in an iPhone app rather than a trained professional.

The roads were empty as we drove to hospital. I cuddled my pillow through contractions but started to get a little bit panicky when they seemed to be more than 3 minutes apart again. The midwife would think I was lying! Having contractions in a bumpy car ride is painful! Contraction pain was now about 6/10. The pain made me hold my breath when I was supposed to be doing my breathing techniques. I told Pete to leave the bags in the car as we would probably be sent home. The eternal pessimist.

Twinkle Twinkle

We arrived at the birthing centre and I felt instantly calmer. The dimly lit centre was like a health spa and I was over the moon to be taken to the best room; a large space with birthing pool, tv, birthing couch, swing, and twinkling stars on the ceiling. I’d imagined labouring in this very room ever since we had been on the hospital tour. I was so happy.

We met our Midwife number 1 (MW1) and she was so lovely. I fully expected to be about 1cm dilated but after examining me (which is ok actually) she declared that I was 3cm! I was pretty smug. At 4cm you are in “established “ labour and can stay in hospital and have some pain relief. She told us that I would need examining again in 2 hours and went off to make us some toast and fetch me some co-codamol. Finally, some decent drugs after 9 months of plain paracetamol. At this point the pain was still about a 6/10 but the co-codamol took a little edge off the contractions and made me a wee bit light-headed.

Pete went to fetch the hospital bags and I put on my black night dress. In between contractions I started to arrange my toiletries in the en-suite bathroom like I was in a hotel. What a twat. I decided I wanted one last ‘bump’ photo and so mounted the steps to the birthing pool to pose. 

I really had no conception of what was about to follow…….

a birth story labour and delivery baby blog
The last ever bump shot
We ate toast and chatted to the midwife for a few hours. To cope with my contractions I went very quiet and breathed through the pain. At around 4.00am MW1 examined me again and I was gutted to discover I was still 3cm. She advised us to go home and call back in a few hours. I was so disappointed and a little bit scared that she couldn’t give me any more co-codamol to take home with me. I quickly gathered up my belongings and went home in my nightdress.

Time

We arrived home at 5am and I sent Pete to bed; I knew he would need the sleep as this was going to be a long process. The rest of Wednesday is a bit of a blur. I laboured in the front room on my own for a few hours. I straddled a chair, I sprawled on my ball, I crawled around the room, breathing through each contraction one at a time. I couldn’t bear to imagine how long I would be left with this discomfort. The pain was now 7/10 which is just about bearable but because it is a relentless pain, it starts to eat away at you. Yes you have a break between contractions but it still feels sore even during a break. The best way I can describe the pain of a contraction is like period pains, yes, but then imagine somebody pressing on your ovaries very slowly, then harder, harder, harder until it is excruciating, then slowly abates. For a few minutes. Then it comes back. It’s like having an open wound, which bloody hurts on its own, but then somebody comes along and sticks their fingers in it.

Time passed. Pete appeared at some point. He tried to make me eat and I simply couldn’t. I just didn’t know when I should ring back the hospital – contractions were still 3 minutes apart. The pain was just the same: slowly killing me. I was exhausted beyond belief; over 24 hours of painful contractions and no sleep! At 4pm I decided I couldn’t take anymore and needed help, and the birthing centre told us to come back in to be assessed.

The Box

Walking into hospital for the second time was different. I was in a much greater amount of pain and thought I must have progressed quite a bit. This time the centre was rammed. We trailed behind a lady who looked even worse than me, we heard screaming from another room and were led past my favourite room into a poky little box room. I was devastated. I looked around the room I was going to give birth in and it was awful: no pool, no tv, just a birthing couch, table and chairs. I tried to hold it together and not break down in tears. My lovely midwife wasn’t on duty either. I lay on the couch as MW2 examined me. The look on her face told me everything I needed to know “You’re still 3cm”.

What? How!? My body is a failure, what am I doing wrong? How can I be in this much pain and not have progressed? I cried. I couldn’t go back home again, I was struggling to cope and nearly at the brink of my pain threshold. MW2 reassured us she wouldn’t send us home and would check me again in 4 hours. First babies take a long time apparently. She brought us sandwiches and some  co-codamol, but at this point it didn’t do a damn thing.

a birth story labour and delivery baby blog


Eerily Beautiful

MW2 advised me to do some exercise and go for a walk around the hospital. There were some metal bars on the wall so Pete, acting as personal trainer, had me performing squats, lunges and circuits which were pretty hard in the poky room. I had a second wind and felt a bit better. Then Pete beckoned me behind the curtain for ‘a snog’ and we were giggling like a couple of teenagers, especially when we heard somebody rustling around in the cupboard (how did they get in there?!). He had me in stiches laughing and I felt an overwhelming feeling of love for my husband; he was trying every trick in the book to take my mind off the pain. My rock. I couldn’t have gotten through this new low point without him.

We went for a long walk around the hospital and I walked up and down the stairs so fast Pete couldn’t keep up with me! I was absolutely determined to progress that extra 1cm. We walked down a very long corridor extremely slowly and when a contraction hit me we stopped dead and I clung onto Pete and buried my face in him. I didn’t give a shit that there were lots of people milling around. It’s weird, but I have a thing for Victorian hospitals, and the corridors were eerily beautiful in the night. I took reassurance in picturing the many, many, women before me who must have trodden those very corridors feeling the all-encompassing pain of labour.

We made it back to the box room and Pete ordered me onto the birthing couch to rest. I was on the verge of losing it: How the hell was I going to push a baby out shortly? I was exhausted beyond comprehension and my fear of a very long labour had come true. 30 hours of pain and no sleep. There was no way on God’s Green Earth I could actually sleep through this pain but I heard my Dad’s voice in my mind telling me as a child “Even if you can’t sleep you are resting Jessica, just close your eyes”. I decided to try something; with the next contraction, instead of tensing against it I tried to totally relax my body and embrace the pain. It took every iota of concentration to keep still and breath but the pain washed over me and it was bearable! This is what hypnobirting must be all about I thought. Why hadn’t I studied it!? I tried again with the next wave, but half way through the contraction the fear crept back in as I lost focus and the pain ripped through my body and took my breath away. Shit. I couldn’t do this. I began to cry.

MW2 appeared at around 9.30pm to examine me. She had left it as long as possible for me to progress.

I was STILL 3 fucking cm.

I broke down in tears. I couldn’t go home.

She promised me I didn’t have to go back home and that I could go on the antenatal ward, but Pete would have to leave. Oddly, I didn’t care that he had to go; I had to battle this next stage alone. Just me, and the sadistic, unrelenting pain.

The Night is Black

There was one other person on the dark ward. She was all wired up to monitors and wimpering and not in any mood to chat to me so I pulled the curtain around me and drank two cartons of orange juice. I’d never spent the night in hospital before. The contractions were deeper and made me feel as if I was being torn into pieces. Pain level  9/10. I didn’t scream or shout or make a fuss, I soldiered on alone. I knew that at 11pm I could ask for some more co-codamol. It wouldn’t make a difference at this point but it gave me something to aim for. I limped to the window and gazed out over Manchester in the night. 1cm. All this for the sake of one bloody centimetre.

I curled in a ball on the bed to try and lessen the pain of the next contraction. It didn’t work. That’s the horrible thing about labour pains; there is no position that eases them. I remembered learning about positive birth affirmations in pregnancy yoga so I began to google these to give me anything to get me through the next contractions.

The power and intensity of your contractions cannot be stronger than you, because it is you

“300,000 women will be giving birth with you today”

It must have been my pain addled mind – but something clicked into place. This wasn’t in my birth plan, I felt like I was actually going to die, I was at my absolute limit of pain and sanity, but this was my babies journey and he or she would arrive precisely at the right time.

It was 11 so I got my co-codamol and it did bugger all as expected. I waddled to the toilet on the ward and an intense contraction brought me to my knees. Luckily, there was a hand rail on the wall and I kind of squatted and leaned back at the same time which actually helped a little! I sobbed with relief that I had found a position that gave me a tiny bit of reprieve. Back at my bed I used the end rail to squat down and tilt my pelvis but after a few contractions the position stopped helping at all. I crawled back on the bed and curled in a ball whimpering; I was out of ideas. MW3 appeared to check my progress at around 1am. I didn’t even care anymore as I knew I’d be 3cm. She seemed really surprised as she exclaimed “you better call your husband back, you’re 5cm”. Happy days!

I refused a wheelchair to take me back to the birthing centre and actually carried my own bags (wtf?) as I am no wimp. They say that fortune favours the brave and my fairy Godmother must have been looking down on me as we walked straight back into my favourite room with pool and twinkling lights. MW1 met me with a huge grin (yes her shift had come round again). She had a weird tubular contraption in her hand and said “come and have some gas and air”.

Gibberish

Gas and air is awesome. It makes your head throb like you are drunk and it really helped me with the pain. Pete arrived and now the story gets very blurry…..

My birth plan had been lost on the ward somewhere but I could recount it verbally: no opiates, only gas and air.

I laboured in the pool for a long while. The warm water was delicious on my tortured body and the intense pressure of the baby down low was eased. The gas and air got me through each contraction and Pete fed me jaffa cakes. I waffled absolute gibberish about the Queen, and Kate Middleton being a muggle blood and I honestly thought the radio was playing Christmas jingles.

A few hours later I had progressed quite rapidly to 10cm and I could actually start pushing! I requested the birthing stool I had seen at the hospital tour and got out the pool to sit on that. Pushing is great because it gives you something to do with all that pain. I gripped the rim of the seat pushing with my arms and legs and giving absolutely everything I had into absolutely every contraction. MW1 was tremendous. She talked me through every contraction and said how brilliant I was doing. I remember exclaiming in horror “I feel as if I am going to do the biggest poo ever!” “Excellent, that’s what we like to hear”. My face swelled up and my back turned purple with the exertion I put into each push. MW1 lay on the floor with a torch to see what was going on up there. Things weren’t progressing as they should. She decided to manually break my waters and as I lay on the couch they spontaneously went, all over MW1 and the notes! A tiny lip of cervix was in the way and  baby’s head was stuck and starting to swell up. She advised me to try and stop pushing for a while to see if baby would move slightly. This was the hardest stage of my whole labour. Trying to resist pushing is like trying to not throw up when your body is pretty determined to do so. The gas and air wasn’t helping against the pain anymore, nor was the pool. Pain was  10/10.

At 8am on Thursday morning MW1 had to end her shift and MW2 appeared. She was nowhere near as supportive as MW1 and pretty much ignored my contractions and told me I was using the gas and air wrong by over-using it. She didn’t want to use the torch to examine me so turned the lights on and had me pushing on all fours on the couch. I hated this position as I had nothing to grip hold of but I did what I was told. Another MW came to have a look at me and I could tell she was very senior as MW2 changed her personality completely and started encouraging me and rubbing my feet. I was furious at this to be honest, as it was all a show. She then made a few comments about MW1 and that the notes were a mess. I can’t stand people who brown-nose their managers and tell tales on their colleagues to try and make themselves look better.  The senior midwife asked if she could use her hands to encourage baby to move and I agreed. This was the most painful experience of the whole labour and I bawled out with the pain, it was easily 11/10 and I thought I was going to pass out. But it helped, and I felt movement, so I agreed for MW2 to carry on doing whatever it was. Senior midwife told me it was time I saw the doctor for some help getting this baby out as I was too exhausted after around 45 hours of contractions and 6 hours of pushing. I was so, so gutted that after all my hard work I couldn’t even birth a baby by myself. The blow was slightly softened when Senior Midwife told me that in all her years of delivering, she had never seen a women more determined to push a baby out than me. I was failing, but at least it wasn’t through lack of trying. Senior Midwife had to leave and MW2 went to see the doctor. Pete and I were finally alone together for the first time.

I realised that I was lying flat on my back, with the full lights beaming down on me; the exact opposite of what I requested for a chilled-out birth in my Birth Plan. “Turn the god damn lights off Pete”. Suddenly the room was calm again. I had another lovely kiss and cuddle with my husband between contractions and a feeling washed over me. “If you tell them to leave us alone for 15 minutes, I know I can get this baby out if it’s just me and you”. It was a very strange feeling, perhaps due to the drugs and sheer exhaustion, but I like to think it was my body telling me it was possible, if everyone would just piss off trying to rip this child from me with their bare hands, and let my body do what its designed to do on its own. It didn’t matter, MW2 appeared with a wheelchair “doctors waiting for you”. I looked at Pete and his eyes pleaded with me not to be stubbon “I’m worried about you Jess, you look dreadful, please lets see the doctor”

My Due Date Baby

I was wheeled to another place; my contractions now almost on top of one another, and I howled with the pain of each contraction. Fancy that, a screamer after all.

White room

Hospital scrubs

a birth story labour and delivery baby blog


I was lifted onto a bed and heard the words “spinal”, “forceps” and “episiotomy”. I had one person pulling clips out of my hair, one person attaching things to my bare chest and another person sticking a massive cannula into my hand. I’m scared of needles but felt nothing. I yelled through the unrelenting contractions and sucked on gas and air. It was scary and surreal because concern was etched on everyone’s face. A lady doctor appeared and told me to push. This was my last chance. I pushed until my eyes nearly exploded and then I pushed some more whilst she stuck what felt like her entire forearm into my womb.  

It didn’t work and I needed the spinal block.

We had to wait for my contraction to fade until I sat on the bed and awaited a massive needle in my spine. Seconds later I felt another contraction and screamed “I’m having another one” but the doctor told me “too late, just keep very still”. I didn’t feel anything as the needle went in my back, the contraction started to ease, and then the next one was fading, fading, fading…..

Then nothing.

The relief of being pain free after so long was indescribable. In its place was an exhaustion like nothing on earth. I wanted to go to sleep whilst they sorted the baby out. Pete appeared in his scrubs and I winked and said “hello doctor”. I thought he looked fit.

But I still had work to do.

“We will help guide your baby out but you need to push Jessica”.

“Now PUSH!”

Pushing whilst feeling nothing is the weirdest, hardest thing. I pushed but had no idea if it was helping, or indeed if I was even pushing.

Second push, then third, 

and then......

A warm, pink wriggling thing on my chest. Cleaner than I thought with a glorious smell I will remember for ever.

A boy.

I knew him.

Hello darling, I’ve been waiting for you.

At that moment my family was born and my very reason for breathing was revealed to me.


Arturo.

a birth story labour and delivery baby blog

a birth story labour and delivery baby blog

a birth story labour and delivery baby blog

a birth story labour and delivery baby blog
You can read all my PREGNANCY updates HERE
You can read all my BEAUTY updates HERE
You can read all my HEALTHY updates HERE

On Instagram - find me HERE Or Facebook or Twitter