Threads of Knowledge

Before I start, let me tell you that for many years I did not think that motherhood was for me. I have never been a naturally maternal person and used to and still battle with trying to relate to these little people. I think that you need to understand this in order to truly appreciate how far I have come on this journey and that when I am brutally honest about my feelings along the way, you can view these in the context of this journey without judgement or concern.

I first suspected being pregnant on Tuesday the 27th October 2009. I recall this well as my sister had just had an emergency C-section 2 months early after an undetected urinary tract infection had caused her waters to rupture and my beautiful nephew (who is now a perfectly healthy, active 19 month old boy) to go into distress. Over the preceding weeks my stomach had been feeling incredibly touch sensitive and it seemed to be constantly cramping. I had also awoken one night with an incredible pain in my abdomen. The pain was so sharp that it actually woke me from a deep sleep and seemed to last a couple of minutes and disappear. Only when I did not begin my next period did I think back and  realise that this must have been the egg implanting itself. My husband and I nervously waited for the home pregnancy test results on the following Saturday. We did a cheap no-name brand version first and then a more expensive digital one, both to make sure and to help us determine how far along we were. It was an emotional time. The digital test said that we were 3 weeks in. This was the easy part.

We decided to keep our news to ourselves until our first scan at 12 weeks, mainly so that we did not take any of the limelight away from my sister’s new arrival and all the excitement that he was bringing to the family. Coincidentally this landmark appointment fell 2 days before Christmas making a perfect and inexpensive gift to announce to our parents who had come to terms with the fact that we were not going to add to the family trees – we had been married for over 8 years at this stage. Keeping the news from our families was easier as I mentioned in a previous post that they stay continents away, but facing 24/7 morning sickness made it very difficult to keep from friends and colleagues locally. Facing a packed half-hour train journey, 15 minute tube ride and 15 minute walk to the office during rush hour really did not help. I often found myself managing my breathing and literally praying for my dignity to be spared. Little did I realise at this stage that there is little to no dignity in pregnancy. I eventually resorted to putting in for leave from mid December to early January just to hide from the world and feel miserable in private.

All the sources  I read advised that most morning sickness passes by week 12. Hmmm, really…?! This information was as misleading as the name “morning” sickness. I remained sick to my core until 22 weeks and it was there morning, noon and night, ranging from moderately nauseous most of the time to being physically and violently ill fairly often. Now when I say that my morning sickness only lasted for 22 weeks, I should maybe add some technical comments. My whole day sickness lasted until 22 weeks but this was replaced by morning sickness that remained until I gave birth. I began each day with a race to spend at least 5 to 10 minutes hanging over the toilet. This was a vast improvement and I was happy to be able to get done with it and get on with my day. Now in case you think that I am just going to moan about the whole pregnancy, I have to say I was lucky in the way that I managed to dodge the tiredness element that many other ladies experience. This in itself was amazing as my diet during the first trimester was terrible purely because my body only seemed to tolerate carbs!

As my belly swelled and the weeks passed, my weight and nervousness about the birth were not the only things that increased. I have an inherited reflux condition that was massively exacerbated by the pregnancy hormones. I had taken a personal decision not to take my chronic medication for this condition during the pregnancy as the medication was a category C and I was not comfortable taking something that had not been tested during pregnancy. From about 30 weeks this condition became so severe that I was no longer able to sleep lying down and found that the most comfortable way to rest was propped up on almost all the pillows in our house, sparing just one for my dear husband who’s bed space diminished by the week. Even through all this, I was still able to somehow take my pregnancy for granted for the next 4 weeks.

I had my first real wake up call in week 34. I had begun to have a few dizzy spells over the weekend that I thought were related to the sudden heat wave. On the Sunday my feet ballooned so much so that my husband had to go and buy me some slip on black shoes that could pass for work shoes as none of my shoes would fit anymore. I had read warnings about sudden bloating and decided that I should go and visit the doctor for a check up. My shock was when the doctor wanted to call an ambulance after taking my blood pressure. I had to stay in maternity overnight and was diagnosed with pre-eclampsia. I was placed on medication and had a weekly appointment at the hospital to check on things. This was my first wake up call to start to take things a little easier. Apparently I could not do everything I used to do and be  mother too. This was something that I would have to get used to and still continue to now.

My next wake up call was two weeks later. I was working from home that day to spare me the stress of the journey into London and I decided to get some things done around the house during a half hour lunch break. I had been working all morning with the laptop on my lap with my feet up and felt fine. I decided to do a quick downstairs vacuum and proceeded to cleaning the kitchen floor with antibacterial wipes. I stood up and was washing my hands by the sink when something popped and there was an almighty wave of liquid that flowed from my body. I had not been aware of any need for the toilet and my trousers and the floor were absolutely saturated. I slipped out of my trousers and waddled upstairs to make the calls and clean myself. I called the hospital, my husband and my boss and then took a bath while waiting for my husband to take me to hospital.

At the hospital I was connected to a foetal heart monitor and had an internal exam of sorts and was told that I had just wet myself!!??!! I was angry, embarrassed, confused and actually scared. I was so sure that this was not the case. I thought that I knew what relieving myself felt like and this had been very different. The fluid was clear and my urine only shortly before the event had been quite coloured. The amount of liquid had been so much more than I thought was possible to just be urine. How could I have been so wrong and how would I be able to know the difference if it happened again? More importantly, what if it happened again and I was not at home? What if it happened at work or on the train somewhere in London? Remember earlier I mentioned that there was little to no dignity in pregnancy? Don’t get me wrong, I knew that having the baby at 36 weeks was not the best thing for my boy and this brought some relief, but my emotions were on overdrive about this event.

I went home and did my frantic internet searches for ladies who had had similar experiences. A few blogs and medical sites referred to a situation where the hind waters could break, expelling liquid and then manage to somehow reseal themselves, so that it is almost impossible to tell from the internal examination that I had been given. If this was the case, the advice was to watch out for infection and prepare for the birth which would follow soon.  I cannot tell you how terrified I was to go into London the next day, but I had to attend a meeting. I took a complete change of clothes…

Five days later I struggled to get comfortable while working. Something was off. I had a warmth in my back and tweaks in my entire body. My husband told me that my recent experience might have made me a little paranoid when I told him that something was happening. A friend called and assured me that I was just having Braxton Hicks contractions. We went to bed around 11pm. I woke up around midnight feeling funny again. I sat up and heard a pop. A  relatively small amount of fluid came out on the waterproof sheet saver that I had started sleeping on. Hubby was awake at this point and helped me to the toilet. When I cleaned myself up I realised that there was some blood. We called the hospital and I still said that I was feeling fine and could wait until my 9am weekly pre-eclampsia appointment in the morning. They insisted that I come in for a check up and I am very glad they did. By the time we got to the car, I realised that I was indeed in labour. Only ten minutes later and now half way to the hospital, I knew without a doubt that I was. By the time I got into the hospital, I was 8cm dilated and was ecstatic when they offered me gas and air.

The next events passed in a blur. The nurse who performed the internal was the only one on duty who was available at that time. My traumatised husband literally had to hold the torch for her and no, he could not just point and close his eyes, he had to look and ensure that he was shining it at the correct angle. A very embarrassed nurse suddenly informed us that she thought that she had just stuck her fingers up my poor baby’s anus. We had a scan and it confirmed that we were in a breach situation and we were strongly advised to have a C-section. We asked for a few minutes to discuss the matter and were told that time was not on our side as I was fully dilated. We agreed and into theatre we went. One of my most vivid memories was when they were giving me the anesthetic and I heard a nurse and then my husband, who stared directly into my eyes while saying it in a slightly panicked voice: “Don’t push!” I only later found out that before I got into the theatre my baby’s testicles where already visible. Many weeks later the midwife told me that we had been the talk of the hospital and were being referred to by the staff as the people with the testicle baby. Nice story for his 21st!

As it turns out, not only was my son breach, but his head was and had been stuck under my ribs for some time and they really had to use force while removing him with forceps. How happy we were that we had opted to listen to the advice to have the C-section. Noah was born at 3.10am and was and still is perfect. This was the end of pregnancy and the beginning of something so much harder but just as wondrous. But that is a story for another day…