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No news is not necessarily good news!
Niente, zilch, nada, the fecund one has still not given birth. The castor oil took another bashing yesterday, followed by a three-mile walk, but zero response. She has now vowed not to appear in public again until Baby Bean is here, as everyone stares at her due to her immense bump (it's true, they do). All my 'witchyness' has been useless, it's now a question of nature, she's got a week, or the medics next Thursday. Please, please nature get a move on.
Wednesday - Sitting with my daughters, cheering Jack's efforts at walking (ten steps and then a nappy squashing bump), and the phone ring. It's my colleague, one of my ladies, whose booked for a homebirth, water's have gone, and she has started having contractions, do I want to go out to her? I declined as very, very early on, but when things get moving give me a ring back. Pregnant daughter is really jealous, she had met M at antenatal classes and had got chatting. In the evening they phoned me again to say that labour had not really started yet, did I want to be called out in the night? We were going out so I declined.
Thursday - Phone call from colleague saying that M had been taken in to hospital as her waters had been 'gone' for over 18 hours and baby still not born but that colleague had gone home with M's house keys. I was taking daughter to hospital for antenatal so I offered to take the keys in with me. Took daughter to appointment and went into labour ward to see M and return keys. By then M had the drip to speed up labour running, was on a monitor, and puffing away on the gas and air. We had a long chat about what was happening with her labour, it had been stalled for 12 hours now, contractions every 2 minutes but her cervix staying at 5cms dilated, and I suggested an epidural*. M and her partner mulled it over and decided that she would have one. The midwife caring for her had just left the room to arrange for an anaesthetist when in strolls the Doc. Very nice, introduced himself, shook hands, and then announced that he would like to help baby out, with a caesarian. M shouted, and burst into tears, whilst her husband stood staring at the Doctor in disbelief. I plonked myself down with M, put my arm around her and explained to the Doc that this lady had wanted a homebirth, we were not questioning his judgement but really he needed to take his revelations slightly slower, and talk us through his decision-making process. I suddenly realised that he had no idea who I was, sitting there looking very Mumsy, so I enlightened him. To his credit he then apologised and did what I had asked. M calmed down, her partner remained very questioning, and angry, but that was understandable. We sat and chatted it all over, and they agreed to the section. An hour after I had just 'popped' to labour ward I returned to daughter, who was sitting on the ward chatting to the midwives, luckily she is used to my assurances that I will ' only be a minute'. Then she asked how M was doing, I told her, she was really upset for M 'cos she knew how much she had wanted a homebirth. I dropped her at her house and returned home. Other daughters car was in our drive, as I walked into the kitchen I saw the note on the side - Dinner, in blue bowl...., I had forgotten that I had said we would have Jack whilst they went to see the mortgage company! Luckily Hubby (still limping) was having command passed to him. I called out that the cavalry had arrived and a little person tottered into the kitchen, across the breakfast room and held out his arms to be picked up, yes, Jack is walking, non-stop. To celebrate what a big boy he is Hubby and I took him to the Polling Station where he entertained the queueing voters with his impersonation of someone speaking Welsh in a very loud voice.
Still no Baby Bean though.
* I am not known for routinely suggesting, or advocating epidurals. They definitely have a place though. With M, her labour had, to her, lasted 18 hours. At a conservative estimate it was likely to last another 6 hours, and she had not slept all this time. Weighing everything up I felt doubtful that she was going to have a normal birth, but more than that I felt she needed a rest, so I felt that, at this stage, the benefits of an epidural, would outweigh the downsides.
I might be jumping the gun , but.............., pregnant one might be niggling. Uncomfortable tummy and back pains every ten minutes, can't settle. Have sent her off with her sister for a car ride, going past the hospital. Daughter doesn't think they are contractions, doesn't want to talk about them 'too frightening', and requests that her sister and I stop looking at each other!
If it is what we have all been waiting for I shall blog, if it's not, well, I just give up!
Grandmaternal distress
The girls, Jack and I had just returned from a leisurely wander when huge, pregnant one said 'ouch'. We looked at her expectantly, 'I don't know what I've done but it feels like a bad muscle strain', half an hour later, with tummy being rock solid and it had gone. During this time I mused, mused some more and decided that I would be happier if I knew that Baby Bean hadn't been upset by his/her home turning into a cast-iron fortress. Out came my sonic-aid and we tuned in. Beautiful heartbeat, 144, 140, perfect, 132, 120, oh are you going to sleep little one, 106, 100 stop this now, wait a minute, starts coming back up. Daughter looks at me, I smile, 'Oh, silly baby was playing with the cord', then BB did it again. Right that's enough of that, 'I'm just going to take you in and bung you on a monitor', daughter felt that would be a nice idea. In we went, lovely midwife who used to be my student was on hand to welcome us and do the honours. On went the monitor, no dips, but equally a flat trace. Daughter fed iced water, still BB slept, hot coffee, no reaction, external encouragement, one lazy shrug, and then back to a monotonous flat line. After 40 minutes turned daughter to her side, and BB became a whirling dervish, hurrah. (during this time the monitor had also picked up several impressive tightenings). Midwife decided that in view of daughters listing, she is now catagorised as 'High Risk' a doc should see her. He duly arrived, and Oh joy, it was my registrar of last Thursday, he of the odd communication skills. I have to say he was lovely, he explained everything, absolutely everything, including how wonderful stretch and sweeps were. It was at that point that someone knocked on the door and told me that the midwife who delivered Jack was outside. I scuttled out, we had a quick conflab and waited for the Doc to appear. He had a long chat with us about baby's size, he doesn't think it's 5kgs, yet, excess fluid, and said he knew why I had bought her in, yes I had been worried that the placenta was coming away, and that he felt the sooner BB was out the better, she's got until Thursday before they intervene (to be totally honest I would have been happy if they had got on with it there and then). Jacks midwife went in to daughter, and reappeared 5 minutes later with the news that daughter had agreed to a stretch and sweep, or scratch and sniff, as her partner calls it.
So, she's had a S & S, nothing so far. We are still waiting, and waiting.
Status report
Stretch & sweep Monday = more tightenings and a show.
Stretch & sweep today = more show (and tears)
? stretch & sweep tomorrow (if I can persuade her)
Going in Sunday morning to have her 'waters' broken.
Just between us........
I'm nervous, Daughter is REALLY nervous, but I have to admit that I have butterflies every time I think about tomorrow. I checked with her yesterday that she still wants me there, half of me was hoping that she would reply in the negative, but she was adament, I have to be there, from the beginning.
It was different with Jack's birth. Apart from major swelling it had been a textbook pregnancy and then he caught us all unawares by arriving 3 weeks early, so there was no anticipation. Even when his heartbeat started dropping at home I was not worried, he was just in a rush to make his entry into the world. This time though the whole pregnancy has been problematic, and we have been anticipating Baby Bean's arrival since before 36 weeks. Now, here we are, more than a week over, by all estimates BB is a large baby, with a small Mummy, and at 8 o clock tomorrow morning we are setting off, in cold blood, to encourage him/her out. We still have the question as to why there is so much water around baby, but to be honest that had slipped right to the back of my mind, but doubtless as Baby makes his/her appearance, I shall be holding my breath and praying that all is well.
What do I really want to do? I want to hold daughter really tightly, close my eyes and when I open them my new Grandchild will be lying in it's Mummy's arms. For all my training and experience I am helpless though, all I can do is be there with her and put on my cheery face.
The Bean has sprouted
Sunday was a long day. We arrived at the hospital at 8.30 and daughters waters were broken, copius amounts of fluid, and meconium (baby had opened it's bowels inside) so the monitor had to be used immediately, no walking around for her. An hour later the drip went up, and off we went. Within an hour her contractions were impressive but she was coping quite well sitting with her TEN's on and on the ball. They re-examined her after 4 hours, and there had been no progress so they turned te drip up, and on we went. Around 4 o clock things started to go downhill, emotionally. The gas and air had worked well for a while but had stopped being as helpful so daughter had Pethidine, and shortly afterwards lost her ability to cope. The contractions were fierce by now and she was desperate so we called the anaesthetist to put an epidural in. In he came, introduced himself, and was then called away to an emergency. The hour until he returned was horrendous, daughter was having contractions every two minutes and could not see any further than the pain, and was in despair. Eventually the epidural was put in, by the loveliest anaesthetist, a cross between Dr Kovack off ER, he was a Latvian Pole, and Michael Owen. With daughter comfy we could all have an hours rest. Another examination, no progress, outlook poor, Baby Bean sleepy, re-examine in 2 hours. At this point I started chatting to Mum and Dad about probable next move, i.e section, so when she was reexamined, at 10.30pm, and still not making any progress and Doc recommended section no one was surprised. I helped get everything ready, expecting to wait outside, but then daughter dropped the real bombshell, 'I want you in there'. I checked with everyone and they were OK about me being in there so I changed into my scrubs. I hate sections, they make my tummy go queasy at the best of times, but the prospect of it being my first born under the knife was extremely unsettling, to say the least! In we went though, and after a battle to free Baby Bean from its confines, out SHE came. Yes. I have a Grandaughter! A chubby, 9lbs 12oz, healthy, gorgeous baby girl, born 15.05.2005 at 23.12hrs. All are doing well, Mummy and Daddy are over the moon, no name as yet but that will come. I'm off to see them now, swamped with pink things and smiling broadly.
Here, at last. 15 minutes old.