Becoming a Mum…male followers you have my permission to retreat

I was reading one of the Blogs that I follow http://wonderlandbytatu.wordpress.com

A mum with 2 children, whose honesty like so many others mums I follow and love inspired me to do this… an excerpt from my Memoir (through Amazon and Lulu if anyone is interested in reading further).

24th March 1983

Here I am lying in bed in the hospital. I am to be induced tomorrow morning at 8 a.m. I have had the obligatory enema and mini shave, thinking, “My God, this is only the beginning of any embarrassment or degradation—tomorrow morning I will bearing much more to the world.

At 5 a.m. on the 25^th March, I woke up in a hospital bed and was served a mandatory cup of tea by a smiling, whispering nurse. By 7.35 a.m. I was wheeled into the delivery room. As I lay on the pristine, starched white sheets, staring at the ceiling and the fluorescent lights above me, my thoughts were ones of terror. I was now scared to death as to what lay before me. To make things worse, the paediatrician who was supposed to guide me through the birth with the hypnotherapy did not arrive, so the prospect of going through childbirth “à la natural” was now frightening me beyond belief.

I was placed on the drip at 8.40 a.m. To the hour, my first contraction hit at 9.40 a.m. Even though the paediatrician had given me a few lessons on self-hypnotherapy, I could not concentrate long enough to guide myself through it. The idea of a needle protruding through my arm now seemed far more preferable to labour.

By 2 p.m., the contractions were physically overpowering me and I didn’t think I could handle much more. I tried everything I could to ease the pain; lying on one side, then on the other, knees bent up to my chest, straightened legs, on all fours, standing leaning over the bed, grabbing hold of the sheets, walking around the bed, squeezing John’s hand till I almost drew blood.

The pain of childbirth, though mercifully and miraculously erased so quickly in one’s mind after the event, looms like an undefeatable spectre when you are in the throes of it. My original intent to try for a drug-free birth ended up with me screaming, “OK, I give in! Give me an epidural!” I don’t even think I said please!

Fortunately for John I didn’t yell abuse at him, as some women are known to do. I pitied him standing beside me. He was helpless, looking upon my writhing body that seemed possessed by demonic forces.

“Do you want ice chips to suck on, darling? Would you like a shoulder rub? A back rub? Or should I just leave the room perhaps and come back when you’re done?”

The straightforward truth is that no matter what a husband might suggest or offer in his endeavor to try and alleviate your misery, he cannot help you. You are alone in the battle. You are the one who is grimacing, panting, squirming and bearing the discomfort and the pain. And when you look up at his unhappy face, knowing that he probably wishes he were anywhere else but watching you, all you can do for each other is hold hands.

The anaesthetist came in; I rolled onto my left side and he inserted a needle into my back. By this stage a small pin-prick in my spine was more inviting than a glass of champers and a full body massage administered by George Clooney. It was miraculous how quickly the epidural took effect. With each contraction, although I felt some sensation, I felt no pain and only the overwhelming desire to push, usually at inappropriate intervals when I should have been panting. My doctor arrived at 4.55 p.m., and with the help of forceps and my legs high in the stirrups, baring all and sundry to the brightly lit room, my baby daughter entered this world, weighing in at 7lb (3.175kgs).

Here was this tiny human being we had created. A miracle, perfection in every way, with ten fingers and ten toes, her head covered with dark hair, her body coated in vernix. I was overcome with a euphoria you feel after you have given birth, one of life’s natural highs that you could never dream to be possible. She was placed on my stomach as I cried tears of excitement, joy and gratitude for how beautiful and perfect she was.

We had decided to call her Lauren, and now that we beheld her tiny face, the name seemed to fit her exactly.

When she was taken away for the “cleaning up” process, John and I were left alone to exchange private words and to somehow articulate the event that had just taken place. In the space of those moments, we tried to come to grips with the fact that we now had a daughter, that we were now not a couple but a family, and to contemplate how our lives would change forever.

Even though I was totally exhausted, I could not settle and was absolutely famished. I tucked into a huge plate of sandwiches and a cup of tea while Lauren was attended to by the nursing staff. She was then brought back to us and shortly afterwards was put to my breast to suckle the colostrum. All I wanted to do from this moment on was to hold her close, look at her, touch her and smell her. I felt an instant and unshakable determination to love this little person unconditionally from the very first time she was handed to me, wrapped snuggly in the baby blankets that I had bought months before. My instinct told me that all I wanted on this earth was to be able to protect her from this day onwards from any harm or misfortune, for as long as humanly possible.

Chapter 5 – 1st Time Mum

During one of the sessions I vividly remember having a needle placed in one part of my wrist and seeing it protrude from the other side. I was looking at it but feeling no pain, which was beyond belief as I was and still to this day not comfortable with needles. This however boosted my self-confidence and I felt armed and ready for battle. If I could handle the pain of a needle being pierced through my skin then I assumed that childbirth would be a breeze.

My gynecologist informed me on my last check-up that my baby would be induced, as there were still no signs of him/her ‘dropping’, I wasn’t going to argue the point as like any mother in the heavy throes of pregnancy all I wanted to see now was something for my efforts of the last nine months!

Three days later I was in the Hospital having the obligatory enema and mini shave thinking this is only the beginning and tomorrow I will be baring much more of myself to the world! At 5 a.m. on the 25^th March, I was woken up in a hospital bed and was served the mandatory cup of tea by a smiling, whispering nurse and by 7.35 a.m. I was wheeled into the delivery room. As I lay on the pristine, starched, white sheets, staring at the ceiling, the cold fluorescent lights and the medical equipment around me, my thoughts were ones of terror. I was now scared to death as to what lay before me. To make matters worse, the pediatrician who was to guide me through the birth with the hypnotherapy did not arrive, so the prospect of going through childbirth completely “a la natural” was now frightening me beyond belief.

I was placed on a drip at 8.40 a.m. To the hour, my first contraction hit at 9.40 a.m. My self-hypnotherapy which I was taught for pain control went out the window. By 2pm the contractions were physically overpowering me and I honestly didn’t feel that I would be able to handle much more pain. I tried everything I could to try and ease it; lying on one side, then on the other, knees bent up to my chest, straightened legs, on all fours, standing leaning over the bed, grabbing hold of the sheets, walking around the bed, squeezing Garry’s hand till I almost drew blood.

**My Memoir the Empty Nest A Mother’s Hidden Grief is now available on Amazon and Lulu (J M Kadane)**

Chapter 4 – 1st Time Mum

I took my changing body shape as a matter of course. This is what happens when you are pregnant and so you go with the flow, adjusting your daily activities and taking things a little easier, especially in the final weeks. I would have twinges or a stitch sometimes, usually occurring after I had taken Ash for his walk. I saw this as my body’s way of telling me to slow down a little, and so I did. At night I would feel stronger movements in my belly – often when I was exhausted and longed for sleep – but it gave me reassurance rubbing my hand over my belly and I would find myself smiling, knowing that everything was progressing as it should.

By February the following year I started to “nest”, preparing for the arrival of my child. A natural occurrence, preparing your home, the nursery, making sure everything was almost in a sanitized state for when you brought this new little person back home. When I had run out of cleaning, I was decorating the nursery in unisex colours and brightly coloured murals, or I was shopping for pale green or pale blue or lemon singlets, grow suits, booties and bibs.

I purchased books on children, on child rearing and read and re-read every invaluable chapter, some of the photographs of newborns with such obstinate expressions on their faces, made me think they were quite ‘ugly’ as terrible as that may sound. I know every baby in their mother’s eyes is beautiful, but in my heart, whether I was delusional or not, I knew that my baby would be beautiful!

My mother’s advice, lovingly imparted, was also somewhat redundant, as back in ‘their’ day they were drugged up considerably for the birth. I don’t think anyone can truly explain what you will go through or how to prepare yourself, because every birth and pregnancy can be so different. But as much as I wanted a natural childbirth I investigated going through labour under hypnotherapy.

**My Memoir The Empty Nest A Mother’s Hidden Grief is now available on Amazon and Lulu (J M Kadane)**