So I thought I would start off the blog by telling you all about Mila's birth.
Before anything, I should tell you that Mila's birth was nothing like the movies and it was in no way exciting - of course we were all very excited to meet Mila but the birth itself was pretty boring if I'm being honest. So... if you're not interested in birth stories then you may as well stop reading here.
Also, Mila's birth was very long - just like this post.
Mila's due date was May 13th.
On Monday 30th of April I was working from home (I worked until the day before I was admitted to hospital) and whilst bouncing on my yoga ball I noticed I had not felt Mila moving for quite some time. As soon as I was able to take a break, I had some orange juice and I laid down on the sofa to see if I felt any movement. It seemed to work but not enough to make me stop worrying so I called the ward and I was advised to pop in to monitor the baby and make sure it was all OK.
An hour later I was strapped to a machine and Mila was happy as Larry - there was nothing wrong with her however, there was something wrong with me.
Up until that date, my pregnancy had been so easy (apart from the typical uncomfortable huge belly getting in the way of things) that I had never had occurred to me that there could be something wrong.
I was shocked when the midwife announced I had preclampsia. My blood pressure was high and I had protein in my urine. I was advised that preclamsia was really dangerous for myself and for Mila and they wanted to keep me in and induce me straight away (I was 38 weeks and a day pregnant - two weeks before my due date) but as I had an appointment with the consultant on the Wednesday, they decided to let me go home. They sent a midwife the day after to make sure the blood pressure had lowered a little bit after giving me tablets and let the consultant decide the day after.
I knew from then on, I was going to be induced and therefore I would not have the typical contractions-going to hospital type of delivery.
On Wednesday 2nd of May I went to visit the consultant and as expected, they had already booked me in for an induction the day after.
On Thursday, we arrived at the hospital at 3pm as we were told. Straight away they put a pessary inside my bits to start kicking off the contractions. I couldn't contain my excitement - I was going to meet my little girl in the next few hours! Little did I know...
The first pessary did not work so after 24 hours they put another one (apparently stronger). This didn't work either.
I did everything in my power to help - went for long walks, bounced on the yoga ball ALL DAY and ate spicy food but it just seemed Mila did not want to cooperate. She clearly hadn't read the eviction note.
Now, if the pessary doesn't work the second time, they leave you to rest for 24h. At this point, I was starting to feel very down, as I could see other mummies coming in to be induced after me, and within hours they had their babies in their arms. All I wanted was to see my little girl.
On Sunday, after the two pessaries and the 'day off', they put another pessary and of course, it did not work either.
In a way, I was quite lucky as I was advised by the midwives that I was contracting however, I could not feel a thing - they said I had quite high tolerance to pain as they were reading quite strong but all I could feel was mild period pains.
At this point I was really fed up. I was tired, uncomfortable (I don't know if you remember but that weekend was VERY hot), and I was constantly surrounded by other women screaming at their contractions. The midwives waking me up every two hours to check my blood pressure wasn't helping either. I just wanted Mila out. I remember telling Jac something along the lines: '
Tell them to get out, I don't care how, just get her out' whilst crying by eyes out.
On Monday morning, after much waiting, a consultant came to see me. She suggested that I had another round of pessaries - I broke down. I just couldn't face being there any longer. The consultant kept trying to convince me, but I had enough (I did sound like a little brat at some points during the conversation but I just couldn't help myself - if you have been in hospital for a few days you'll probably understand). I asked for a C-Section and luckily there was a spot available that afternoon.
My heart was again full of joy - yes, it wasn't the birth that I had imagined or I wanted, but it was official, I was going to meet my daughter later on that day.
(Let me pause here for a second and show you two photos, one at week 36 and the other just before my cesarean so you can appreciate how much my belly had grown in just two weeks).
So after much waiting (over five days), I was at last laying there at the operation table. I was not scared or worried, I was just super excited to finally meet my girl.
I was told I would feel some kind of movement in my tummy (like a washing machine) for a couple of minutes. Next thing I heard was someone saying '
Oh my God look how big she is!'. I was confused, had they taken her out already? I had only been laying there what it felt like less than five minutes. My next thought was '
Wait there, big? How big?'.
A few seconds later I had my precious
notsolittle girl laying on my chest. I have never felt anything like it. I always thought I knew what love was but it wasn't until that day I
really found out what love means.
We stayed at the hospital two more days and after a week and three days we were finally allowed to go home and start our life as a family of three.
Mila Joy was born on the 7th of May 2018 weighing a whooping 10.15lbs.
As I said, it wasn't the typical birth. I didn't particularly enjoy it but I would not change it for the world.
I do feel a bit of sadness that I never experienced a contraction or knowing what it's like to 'push a baby out' or what gas and air feels like (I was quite looking forward to that!).
