Thursday's Child

35 weeks and 6 days pregnant in hospital.

Thursday 14th of November 2013 dawned wet and windy.  The scheduled day of my cesarean section.  Our baby's birthday, potentially.  To be honest I was half expecting it either not to be happening today or to have a long wait nil by mouth, snoozing on the bed. I had barely slept that night,  a couple of hours or so,  snoozing while waiting seemed an attractive option. What with trips to the loo which could always be tricky to drift off again after and a brain that kept whirring around I was waiting for the alarm to go off at 5.30am.  I had my black tea that I was allowed and then another zantac tablet to reduce the acid in my stomach in readiness for being 'unzipped'.

   We were all ready to leave by 7.20am, record time!  We dropped Sebs off at Mark's parents who regularly have him and he always has a lovely time with them.  Bang on 8am we arrived at the maternity unit and were ushered into the ward familiar from 2 years prior.  I was in a bed by the window and there was a gown there ready and pjs for Mark.   A lady I'd met at the pre-op the previous day whilst waiting in the queue for the loo to do a 'sample' got chatting. Her voice got higher and squeakier with excitement as I said I was planned for a section the next day "me too!"  I'd had a cesarean 2 years previously, "me too!!"  I don't know what I'm having, "me too!!!"  She seemed sweet and along with another girl who was having her first baby we were the three.  None of us had really slept.  As Mark went to the loo, 2 midwives came with pre op questions for me, when I asked what order we were going in she told me I was first. Wow.  It was happening now, no delays this time, it certainly made up for last time!  We got changed into our gear. No 'Catch me if you can' from Mark either by trying to assume the  identity of a consultant doctor.  A tip the character in the the film played by Leonardo Di Caprio picked up from watching Doctor Kildaire as research, "Do you concur?" As if.

 The doctor who was going to deliver the baby came and introduced himself, he shook my hand and spoke kindly  explaining about the delivery and all the SCBU backup in place.  Nerves were kicking in despite having been here before.  It wasn't for myself it was for my baby. Although the pregnancy had gone really well and despite being a bit creakier this time (and older) I don't think any expectant mother relaxes totally until they have their newborn safe & sound in their arms. After going to the loo yet again it was then time to walk through. We said our goodbyes, Mark had to sit outside and wait while they got me ready and administered the epidural.  I knew the drill as I sat on the edge of the trolley, the staff were all friendly and chatty, but I couldn't disguise the wave of apprehension and emotion I was feeling and it tumbled out. I blamed it on tiredness too.  One of the anaethetists it turns out has children at the school right by our house and he was telling me about a play group at the foot of the Orme in Llandudno where you can take your child and leave them for a couple of hours from the age of two. This was whilst they first of all sprayed my back with such a cold spray it took my breath away. They numbed where the needle went in and while I could still lift my legs got me to lie down. My feet and legs started to feel warm and heavy an odd sensation.  All the while another anaethetist kept asking how I was feeling. Waves of nausea washed over me and this time they got too strong and I was sick, all to do with the blood pressure dropping. The anaethetist was quick to insert something in the tube that was in the back of my hand to bring me back. It was an ongoing cycle. They brought Mark through and he was there by my side. He told me to think of all the favourite food I could eat as they began to prepare for the birth, to distract me more than anything.  Cold spray checks on my legs to check for numbness were slightly weird as I could feel the pressure of the spray on my legs and tummy and then coldness with the pressure by my chest.

It was a quiet, concentrated delivery, they asked Mark if he wanted to have a look at our baby being born.  He did and straightaway he was quick to tell me "It's a girl". A girl!! I still can't quite believe it now as I was convinced we would probably have a little brother for Sebas.  She cried just like her big brother "wah,wah,wah,wah, why did you have to get me out of my comfy bedwomb into this bright strange world?" She was and is perfect, 5lb 8oz at 9.53am. I felt elated, joyous and  then absolutely tired out.  My emotions had overwhelmed me earlier  like a big tidalwave. They checked her over. Perfect little fingers toes, straight feet and a head full of hair just like Sebas. A radio was playing in a room just off and we strained to listen, it was Robbie Williams "No Regrets"... Mark held her and we had photos, all the staff  were really sweet congratulating us and genuinely delighted for us.  As Mark brought her to me, he commented "she knows you" as I welcomed her and felt her warm little body wrapped in hospital towels next to me.  We named her straightaway Tallulah Paz Rosita.

It seemed to take longer putting me 'back together' this time, I felt so tired all of a sudden I closed my eyes and I could hear Mark showing concern, but the staff reassured me and him that the anaesthetic had a sedative in it which was probably making me a bit woozy.  As Mark held Tallulah in the recovery room she had her little hands to her mouth sucking and showing all the signs of wanting feeding so she knew what she wanted straightaway!  Feeding was no problem, she was a natural and for such a little thing has a very strong suction, quite pinching at first! But latching on became a lot easier this time and we are well established a week on.  In comparison with Sebastian, he was a hungry boy who wanted feeding all the time and I got terribly sore, enough to have me on the verge of tears. But I didn't give up and after 2 weeks we cracked it, I was determined I wanted to feed him myself and we got there.

Little dormouse.

The proud daddy stayed with us for a bit and then went to join Sebas at his mum & dad's. Together with my mum and her husband Jamie they all came back at 3pm and Mark was carrying Sebas. I had been worried that Sebas might get jealous if he first saw the new baby being fed by me, and as it turns out typically she decided she was due a feed when they all arrived. But I needn't have feared as he seemed really interested in seeing Tallulah and kept wanting to pat/stroke and kiss her, Tawuwah as he later called her when we were home.  A bottle of champagne was discreetly opened and we all toasted Tallulah, I sat back hooked up to a beeping machine attached by wires which ran to the intravenous needle in my hand and sipped my champagne, just half a glass you understand.  Again reminiscent of  two years previously when we had been toasting our first born son and heir!  Two sets of grandparents cooed over her and passed her round for cuddles and it was taken in turn to take Sebas for a little walk on his reins out of the ward as he got fidgety. The hour was soon up and everyone dispersed. Once my lot had gone and I shut my eyes.  I could hear crying "mummy, mummy, mummy" travelling out of the ward and getting more distant as it went down the corridor. I recognised the voice of the pre op lady as a midwife talked to her, "he didn't want to go did he Irene?" Irene's husband and 3 other children had been to visit and from the sounds of it her little boy didn't want to leave her..  Irene had had a baby boy, and a very hungry boy he was, he also wanted lots of cuddles. She called him Abraham.  I didn't see Irene and Abraham until Saturday afternoon, they wheeled her bed into the bay opposite me, she was on her feet and we congratulated each other, she'd lost a lot of blood and had had to have a blood transfusion.  Abraham had his daddy's features as all babies in my opinion do, a shock of black fluffy afro hair and his parents' complexion of  brown smooth shiny skin.  Tallulah looks very like Sebas did when he was born, loads of brown/dark blonde hair that when it catches the light has  a blonde sheen to it. She is tiny but perfectly formed, rosie in colour it seems apt that Rosita, a deriative of Rose in spanish and the name of my dad's mother, is one of her middle names.

That night very heavy and twitchy eyed I fell into a deep dreamless sleep.  The only food that had been offered that first day had been sandwiches which helped kept me going for a while but inevitably I just needed to sleep.  I woke with a start.  Disorientated I rang the bell, not knowing what time it was and panicking that I had missed feeds. The midwife came, I was still bed bound from the epidural, so the midwife had to pass Tallulah to me for a feed. It was 3am and I had fallen asleep about 1am after the last feed 3 hours ago. I really thought I had slept all night at first!  This was a pattern I would have to get used to again.  It was quite a shock to the system the first time round but this time round it seems easier and Tallulah seems a really good baby so far.  She feeds every 3 hours or so and then sleeps so I can get some rest in. Albeit in broken chunks though.

Mark came the next morning on his own, his mum again so fantastic had been happy to have Sebas so that Mark could have a little time with me and Tallulah.  I got out of bed and on my feet, it didn't feel so bad this time I was moving fairly easily considering and Mark accompanied me to the shower where I had a big dressing on my middle that I had to soak thoroughly and then peel off like something from an Egyptian mummy.  They had moved Tallulah and my belongings through to the next post natal ward when clean and refreshed I came back through.  I felt so much better for being up and on my feet.  Mark couldn't stop cuddling Tallulah, despite always saying he wanted another boy as a companion and playmate for Sebastian, he was and is absolutely smitten with his little girl.  He told me that last night Sebastian had been missing me which gave me a sudden lump in my throat! He had been calling "mamma, mamma", when reading bedtime stories as I would always read to him.  He went to sleep quite well but then during the night he shuffled through in his grobag and came round uncharacteristically to my side of the bed.  He normally stops at Mark's side nearest the door.  Mark let him sleep the rest of the night on the bed with him.  In the morning he was looking under the pillow for me...   We decided it would be good to bring him that afternoon to visit to see me again and then he might understand that I wouldn't be coming home that night either.

The magazine may nearly be bigger than her but she's already got her eye on it.
One week old.

As it turns out I was discharged the following day, the saturday, and it was a relief to be going home. It was late afternoon by the time everything was sorted, medication, rattling with pain killers, and notes for the midwife. Sebas and Mark did a couple of trips with bags to the car to kill time and to keep Sebas amused while the paperwork got sorted.  It was a beautiful, clear, starry night, the moon was high in the sky and waxing up to be full the next night.  The hospital was empty and ghostlike as we walked through, normally bustling and full of people, corridors were empty bar the very odd visitor.  We went straight home and got back in good time to give Sebastian his tea and have something ourselves.  Last time we had family all so excited to meet Sebas, it was tricky but we decided in the end to visit Mark's parents where a lot were congregated, it meant we could have that first weekend to ourselves. It backfired though and we therefore didn't get home until nearly 8pm, and had a most unsettled and exhausting first night, poor little Sebas.  Determined not to go through that again we came straight home and little Tallulah was so placid and chilled in settling in in comparison.


The midwife who had visited us at home last time had told Mark off for not bringing us straight home from the hospital.  She had come early the next morning which was cold clear and frosty and was quite serious. She could see how tired I was and warned that I needed to rest as much as I could.  Kay was her name and she visited us again this week when Tallulah was a week old. She apologised when I recounted the last time we met, but she had been absolutely right.  Up in the bay window of our sunny bedroom our little baby girl lay peacefully in her moses basket with a backdrop of the river, Conwy and the Snowdonia mountain range in the background.  The glorious sunshine turned out to be the best spot for her as she was slightly yellow in her first week.  Her weight had dropped down to 5lbs1oz that first sunday, perfectly normal, we were home when Sharon my practice midwife came for the first visit.  When Kay came later in the week and did the heel prick, Tallulah's weight was creeping up and by friday when Sharon came again she was 5lb4oz.  Sharon has now discharged me.  Happy with everything we will speak this week and then Sue the health visitor will start to visit and we will get a red book which will chart Tallulah's growth and development.  Thursday's child has far to go.

Baby worshipping.

Sebastian, Mark & Tallulah (or Tawuwah)

Nesting,Knitting, Vogue and Reminiscing.

 The dishwasher has been plumbed in this last week, finally, (hurrah!) and the rather disgusting lino that was on the kitchen floor has been lifted up to reveal some lovely deep pinky red quarry tiles that after about 6 goes of mopping from my other half came up gleaming, a vast improvement!  Sebastian found it very exciting when I demonstrated how good they could be for dancing on...
Since turning another year older last month, when asked what I wanted for my birthday I had to really think about it. With all that was going on I struggled at first to come up with something practical but then of course I got inspired.  My lovely workmates wanted to get me something and got me season 5 of Madmen at my suggestion.  I had the box set of series 1-3  when I had Sebas and it came in very handy through all the epic feeds.  I would look forward to sitting down with the laptop at my side and watch an episode with a baby snuggled on me.  Even Mark got into it a bit. I still have season 4 to watch, so that and season 5 will keep me happy when feeding the newest addition...
So then I received my first copy of December's issue of Vogue a week ago. A real treat I think to get an annual subscription to a glossy mag, and what's even more great is it lasts throughout the year. Thanks mum! Again perfect just to have something as a bit of escapism from all the nappy changing ahead.  Buying a copy of October's issue prior to this had got me thinking as it had a great page about grandmothers and how inspirational they are. I found this great website www.granniesinc.co.uk dedicated to grannies who love knitting and will knit designs to order.  A friend of mine, Eleri, has a little girl who has a very industrious grandmother.  Every time we would meet up little Mabli would be wearing a new creation be it a little cardigan, tank top or slip on dress, hot off the press, she always looked lovely!  When I first looked on Grannies inc  I saw a lovely little poncho although we still have so many baby clothes from the first time that we don't really need to buy anything, at least not straightway.  I've never really got that into knitting though, (although there's still time one day) I remember starting to knit a scarf in college it was rather of the style of Tom Baker/Dr Who with different panels of colour, probably as I kept running out of wool.  I did even get quite adventurous and try purl but I never learnt to cast off so the scarf kept getting longer and longer and wider then narrower depending on the type of wool used. It's probably in a box somewhere still on a knitting needle waiting to be finished (or unravelled!)

The latest issue of Vogue will come into hospital with me although from what I've flicked through and seen which isn't very far is the Arts page.  A new book "Priscilla" by a writer called Nicholas Shakespeare  remembers his extraordinary aunt who he described as having a "shed-load of secrets".  She was especially distinctive for her  Hermes handbag which was her statement accessory  inseparable to her. Going back in time to 1937 aged 20, three months pregnant and penniless, she was crossing the channel journeying to France to get an abortion. On the Newhaven steamer she meets Robert a Vicomte from Normandy. "The tall young blonde on deck  reminded Robert of a "cork in a rough sea". In Paris he got Priscilla's number from her best friend Gillian Hammond, an art student, and invited Priscilla to the Folies Begere.  He had no idea when she danced non-stop that Priscilla was following the orders of an abortionist, hoping to bring on miscarriage.  From Gillian, Priscilla learned to put her odds and ends in a handkerchief, which she dropped the whole time, so that Robert was finally moved to whisper to Gillian: "Don't you think she could do with a handbag?" He subsequently took her to Hermes and bought her a beautiful leather bag and they married in 1938.

Priscilla By Nicholas Shakespeare - a tempting read...

Yesterday we brought out the moses basket, the rose embroidered nursing chair, and the changing unit all into our bed room. I did about 3 loads of washing of muslins, baby blankets/bedding and general build up to the big day washing. Before we moved house I'd washed and stored in sealed plastic boxes all the baby gro's so they were all organised and ready to wear. Our bedroom feels more organised and clear too,  the bay window now is all set up with the nursing chair and moses basket, I'm looking forward to sitting by the window facing the view of Conwy and the Snowdonia mountains in the distance. Beautiful.

 It's such a precious feeling, feeling your unborn baby moving inside you, comforting and reassuring you. I'm sitting here with a glass of the hard stuff (full fat milk) my nightly tipple and that always provokes a surge of movement,  stirring of appreciation, as well as the very gentle and rhythmic pattern that has to be hiccups! I will miss it in a way.  It's getting to the stage now though depending on what I'm doing especially if I'm on my feet that I'll be visiting the loo 3 times in an hour. The same at night, I'm sure I'm not alone in saying I've had some very broken nights of sleep. It's also been more uncomfortable notably in this last week on my hip, pressure on the pelvis, the pregnancy hormone 'relaxin' is to blame as it does just that, relaxes and loosens the joints. At least we're on the home run now so to speak. I do feel for all those women who go full term and then some.  I'm having a planned caesarean section as my pelvis would not take the strain of natural birth. I have a risk of fracturing easily (Osteo Genesis Imperfecta) so it was never questionable.

 Last time with Sebastian it went very smoothly, pregnancy through to birth, although we had a bit of a waiting game even though it was planned. I was booked in to have my baby on the thursday, Mark and I got there bright and early at 8am, we both got 'gowned up' me in my lovely hospital gown and Mark in his theatre pyjamas. We waited, and waited and waited.  That day there were three of us having cesareans. Yours truly unfortunately had the short straw and was number three on the list.  Being nil by mouth all day there was nothing else to do but lie on the bed, Mark was at my side in a chair and we both ended up snoozing on and off intermittently.  Patient one got wheeled off to have her baby at around 9am, a nice girl I had a bit of a chat with her, she had a 2 year old daughter and from the sounds of it had to have a caesarean last time due to her pelvis not being able to take it either.

 The next, a Polish girl, got wheeled off to have her baby.  Mark sloped off to the hospital canteen to have some big plate of pasta or something equally tasty as well gulping down a nice refreshing drink while I stayed put, being rationed to have the very occasional sip of water.  Anyhow it got to the end of the day and we pretty much knew when the nurses eventually came that they had had emergency cases. I was to stay the night and they would 'do me' so to speak in the morning.  I quickly got clothed and we went to the canteen. Back in the antenatal ward after eating Mark popped in with me, the department were so busy that they had wheeled in to my ward new mothers who had just given birth with their brand new babies.  The girl next to me told us it was her fifth boy and that she wasn't allowed any more before promptly curling up on her bed exhausted with her brand new babe in its plastic 'salad bowl'. Great. What sort of night was it going to be?! Surrounded by crying new borns that's what!

Before anything else happened though a nurse came through and apologised  saying sweetly that they wouldn't do that to me -  i.e make me sleep in a ward full of new borns.  So I was transferred into the next antenatal ward which was somewhat quieter (for now).  I had a bath, read, wrote in my diary and then as it got to about 10pm the beds started rolling in. One bed that became my neighbour separated by a thin curtain was hooked up to a machine to check the heartbeats, so the intermittent beeps sounded, reassuring and frequent. As time went on though it turned out she was a snorer and a very loud manly one.  The mum of five boys from the previous ward popped her round the door at one point, I don't know if she could hear the snoring from outside, I wouldn't be surprised if she did but she looked into the room and then at me and gave me a quizzical, sorry for me  "Wtf is that noise?"… look!

 Hospitals. I don't think anyone ever sleeps well in them (even with ear plugs). Anyway it got to morning, nil by mouth.  Mark arrived, we sat and waited.  Mr Klazinga who was my really nice obstetrician came through mid to late morning apologetically saying "don't shoot the messenger"… Basically we were delayed again as not all the back up SCBU (Special Care Baby Unit) were present.  Due to my medical history they wanted to have everything in place, which we totally agreed with.  A nurse bought me a sandwich and a drink and I quickly got dressed. I was asked if I wanted to stay the weekend (!) or I could go home, so I very politely said I would prefer to go home and see them bright and early on Monday morning.
We had a a great weekend.  The Conwy Feast was on, a vibrant, busy and increasingly popular food festival right on our door step.  We walked down from our little terraced house just outside Conwy's walls in to the milling hubub of people, smells and tastes on both days. Funnily enough one of the staff from the maternity ward was visiting someone in our road on the saturday and recognised us which was bizarre, I did a double take and almost said the classic "I didn't recognise you without your uniform".  A great sociable weekend was had, the weather was dry, lots of friends were out and about who we kept bumping into, and we got to sample some tasty world cuisine on both days sitting on Conwy quay, chatting. It was perfect.

Monday morning arrived 24th October 2011. At 12:21pm, with 'one two three shake your body down' repeat, warbling out of the cd player in the hospital theatre (the staff kept apologising as it was the only cd they had) the doctor held my baby up in his arms "WahWahWahWah".  Mark at my side was smiling, speechless, in awe...until prompted by the doctor and nurses... "Are you going to tell her what it is?" After a pause "It's a boy" he said proudly full of love beaming down at me, the emotional flood gates opened and I burst into tears of joy.  6lb3oz, an impressive weight coming from my tiny 4ft 10 frame. After having our first family photo Mark then totally smitten went and sat with Sebastian in the recovery room, we named him straightaway. "There's serious male bonding going on there" said one of the staff as they performed what felt like washing up in tummy. The cd was a compilation and "I'm not in love" by 10cc came on next, ethereal and mellow while they finished rummaging in my tummy and put me back together.

The smiles say it all.

Later that day just as the proud grandparents were about to come through for visiting time, Mark told me that Sebastian had a problem with his foot. His left foot was a club foot, it had got into a funny position in the womb and was turned in to the right. As new parents it was alarming and upsetting for us, Mark had seen it in the operating theatre, but the staff had reassured him and said it was nothing to worry about, it was very common and could be treated quite easily. They were of course right.  I remember those first couple of nights in hospital, Mark had gone home and googled it to find out more information about it and yes it was easily treated by manipulation, plaster casting and wearing boots and a bar as a brace to keep the foot in the right position.  Mark even found out that footballer Stephen Gerrard was born with a club foot, so there is hope!
 When Sebas was 2 weeks old we went to Gobowen and started seeing the doctor at the clinic there.  Weekly we would go and for 5 weeks they would recast his leg each time manipulating his little foot  into a better position.  We got to bath him as a treat in between plaster casts before being newly set again.  I found out from chatting to other parents at the clinic that some babies have feet that are pushed in and even up the leg, so Sebastian's case was fairly mild compared with some poor little mites.  He responded well to the treatment and to our joy was out of plaster for his very first Christmas.  On the plus side also he did not need to have surgery to release the achilles tendon in his heel, as his heel was stretching well by itself.  He then spent 10 weeks solidly in the boots and bar,  day and night with a little bit of bath and respite time out.  Then it was just wearing the boots and bar at night which he still does now.  We were told he would have to wear them until he is 4 or 5, but it may not be quite so long as it does appear that he has Osteo Genesis Imperfecta so his ligaments may be softer.  We noticed Sebas had blue sclera (whites of the eyes) like myself when he was born which is a sign of my Brittle Bone condition. It was always going to be a 50/50 chance.  Sebs went for a full skeletal x-ray on the second day of his little existence and came back clear.  During the last couple of years he's had trips to AlderHey to see a specialist there, the prognosis being any sign of fracture come back, but they cannot test his bone density until he is 3 as there are no records to compare to earlier than that.  However so far it is looking really good, he seems to be a robust little boy, has had his fair share of tumbles and gave me a huge fright falling off the bed when much smaller but no sign of fracture came up on the x-ray thank goodness.  So we are crossing our fingers and toes that he has it very mildly which is what the specialist seems to think.  We were also waiting for the results from the cranium plate x-ray taken just after birth which could indicate evidence of Osteo Genesis Imperfecta, to our delight they came clear another good sign…

In comparision I had experienced my first fracture when I was a tiny tot apparantly 6 months old or younger, a green stick leg fracture from getting my leg wrapped around a bar when being picked up.  I also had clicking hips (which Sebas was checked for and was fine) and subsequently had to wear a contraption over my nappy to keep my hips in place so I sat like a frog for 9 months. The whites of my eyes were the clear indication and diagnosis to the doctor  that I had Osteo Genesis Imperfecta. Although I have always been a milder case, not like some poor folk who fracture so easily.  Today there are biphosphates that can be administered intravenously to help a child's bones be much stronger in density than they ever were in my day.  Back in the 1970's and 1980's a glass of milk was the "medicine" if it could even be called that.

Amazing eggs http://genedoe.wordpress.com/2010/09/29/in-your-grandmothers-womb-the-egg-that-made-you/

My grandmother as a young woman in the 1930's.

My mum and dad on their wedding day in the 1960's.

Nature never ceases to marvel and amaze me.

http://genedoe.wordpress.com/2010/09/29/in-your-grandmothers-womb-the-egg-that-made-you/

The "Russian Doll" concept. When my grandmother was pregnant with my mum, the the egg that created me was formed inside my mother when she was a fetus in my grandmother's womb. The same will apply to me if I am expecting a girl, from when mum was pregnant with me, but, I have chosen (again) not to find out the gender of my baby.  All the more fun guessing in my book and having a surprise which in this case will be an early Christmas present.
I had a recent scan at 34 weeks (on Hallowe'en incidently, and no, no vampire teeth suddenly showed up on the ultrasound thank goodness, or 'Alien' like stomach break outs happening, shudder!! Or cravings for raw steak like 'Rosemary's Baby'). Everything was on track. Then at the follow up Antenatal Clinic appointment the midwife commented that I was part of a rarity of mothers these days not finding out the sex of their baby before they are born.  I suppose practicality is a big reason for finding out now, especially for single mums, time to prepare and some find it helps them bond more... but then again it could just be plain old curiosity and the fact that in this day and age it's the norm. When you're pregnant it is one of the 2 questions people always ask you, When are you due? and Do you know what you're having?

I quite like the old fashioned way of not knowing though. It's probably going to be another boy. But then it feels different this time so it could be a girl?

Boy or girl? 34 week scan, it's more fun guessing...