Stilletto_Sam
3 Teenagers + 1 Toddler.
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THE BIRTH OF ELLEN JANE COUSINS. Taken from my parenting journal. Sit back, relax, have a laugh!
The players are:
Me, Samantha. 41 years old. Already Mum to Calvin, 14 and Benjamin, 12.
Hubs, or known in my journals as Mr W. (Mr Wonderful) or David. Father to Aaron, 15 and Ruth, 17.
The Domestic Set-Up Is:
All the children live with us except Ruth.
This is mine and Mr W’s second marriage. We have been together 6 years and married 2 years this June.
We have two dogs, two cats, 9 chickens and a psychotic rooster called Ping.
Ellen was conceived at 40 years of age, naturally, and on third cycle of trying to conceive. I am blessed and lucky beyond words.
You can follow my adventures in both the TTC journals and pregnancy journals if you have a load of time and not much else to do! I'll post a link as soon as I can get the freedom to search the boards once this child is off my breast.
For all you lovelies who have followed me round this board – you know the craic!
Let’s begin…
40 weeks and 2 days. Those of you who know me will remember me saying that the baby could be born up until the 22nd December and if s/he wasn’t going to come by then, then s/he could jolly-well wait until Boxing Day and not come on Christmas Eve as was her EDD.
There was no indication whatsoever that Ellen was about to make her way into the world. I had been for a sweep at 40 weeks at my hospital appointment on Christmas Eve (Friday) I was ‘a good ‘ 3cms dilated apparently, but my cervix was still posterior. I had debated with the doctor who offered me the sweep whether it would be a good idea as it might interrupt Christmas day with the other children if it was successful. Anyhow, the sweep went ahead and the doc’s last words to me as I went out the door were, ‘ I hope you manage to get your Christmas Dinner at home’ Immediately after the sweep I experienced a lot of period type cramping for a few hours, then nothing. I went about my business all day thinking to myself, 'I'm 3cms dilated! I'm 3cms dilated!'
Christmas Day came and went with me in one of the foulest moods ever. I even had a hormonal rant over no one buying me Ferrero Rocher for Christmas. I had a houseful of people – my parents, kids, stepdaughter and my brother over from London. I really wasn’t in the mood at all. My own Dad particularly annoyed me by tutting all the way through and generally being unappreciative of the Christmas special Royle Family. In retrospect I think it was a massive hormone shift in preparation for the birth. I went to bed that night dressed in Hub’s old work t shirt as I was so unbelievably hot and bothered that I didn’t want to wear my jammies. You can see the t shirt I went to bed in in the pictures of me in the birthing pool. Glamour understated. I didn’t even get the time to change my clothes that morning.
THE LABOUR
Boxing Day. I woke from a fitful sleep at around 3.50am. I felt a sort of gushing feeling, not unlike the huge amount of pregnancy CM I had been experiencing the last couple of weeks of pregnancy, so didn’t think much of it. I lay and thought to myself that really, this was quite a lot of stuff coming out of me. Tottered off to the toilet and in a sleepy haze confirmed that it was indeed my waters slowly leaking, I could tell because of the unmistakable sweet smell – then gushing. Grabbed an old bath towel and stuck it between my legs and waddled back to bed. Debated with myself whether to have coffee then wake Mr W. up or wake him first and let him make coffee. My loo trip had wakened Hubs anyway and I broke the glad tidings to him that my waters were going. ‘What’s the procedure now?’ says he. Told him that usually they allow 24 hours after water breaking to deliver or come to hospital for induction and that we should have plenty of time (Bwaaaaaa haaa haaaaaa) So, coffee was casually made and we sat up in bed discussing when we would wake my Mum and Dad (who were staying over for Christmas in their motor home in our yard) to come in and mind the kids. Phoned the labour ward who told me to make our way in at our leisure, then BAM! Approx. 4.30 am first contraction which was a whopper. 5 minutes later another which stopped me in my tracks as I was getting the hospital bags together. My Mum’s memory of me when she came into the house after being woken up by Hubs was of me hanging from my bedroom doorframe in the middle of a contraction. Nice. Another contraction another 5 minutes later had me jamming the towel between my legs, hauling pyjama bottoms on, Hubs shoving shoes onto my bare feet and me, the hospital bags and all into the Discovery all the time with me asking, ‘do we have the camera? Do we have batteries? Did I pack the mobile charger’ ‘Did I pack my paper knickers?’
This had to have been the most surreal journey of my life, through a fog of pain one minute then a lucid conversation with my husband and commenting on the solitude of the roads and the beauty of the early morning the next. 3 minutes into the journey saw me hanging from the handrail on the door breathing and moaning like a cow, visualising my body opening up to allow our baby out, and Hubs driving cautiously along the country roads because of the sheet ice and one eye on his watch, timing the contractions which were now coming every three minutes. We had at least 30 more minutes of a journey to the hospital. 10 minutes from the hospital came the incredible and involuntary urge to bear down. I yelled at Hubs that Pudding was coming and to just stop in the town at the ambulance station, as I knew we weren’t going to make it to the hospital. In my half-witted state I could almost see the headlines in our local paper; ‘Boxing day baby born in a 4x4’. Mr W. said that we’d be at the hospital in 2 minutes. And we were. He drove 70 MPH through the town, through roundabouts and nearly over the top of a tootling and very alarmed early morning commuter.
Arrived at the side door of the maternity wing. Hubs jumped out and blattered the door down. I opened the door of the Disco and fell out panting like something demented and willing myself not to push ,a vision of beauty and decorum wearing my husbands old t shirt and with a bath towel stuffed between my legs and held up by my pyjama bottoms. Two midwives came rushing with a wheelchair and managed to haul me into it and off to assess me in the delivery suite. I was helped onto a bed and given gas and air to suck on while I was examined and my maternity notes read. I was fully dilated, they exclaimed and ready to deliver. No shit, Sherlock! If it hadn’t been for Mr W. mentioning to the midwives that I had had my heart set on a water birth, then I think that I would have given birth in the triage room on the bed. They debated for a few minutes as to whether I would even make it up the stairs to the midwife led unit to the birthing pool suites, but by this stage, the gas and air had slowed the contractions down a little bit which allowed them to phone upstairs to get a pool filled and me wheeled up on the bed.
THE BIRTH
The pool was filled just in time for me arriving. Plopped ungraciously into it and it was sheer bliss. To be able to float and move about at will with the contractions was wonderful – one minute on my back, next minute on all fours, doing whatever felt good for my body.(I was going to mention something about those positions getting me into this situation in the first place, but I’ll refrain) Hubs was leaning over the edge of the pool and chatting away to me but what the Dickens he was saying I cannot remember. I recall a cartoon coming on the television in the room and me asking the midwife to turn it down as it was putting me off and half watching the cars coming and going in the hospital car park that I could see from the pool out the window of the suite. The gas and air had slowed down the contractions a little and Ellen wasn’t moving down much despite the pushing, so the midwife suggested I stand up in the pool and put one leg on the edge to allow gravity to work. Minutes later I felt Ellen moving down the birth canal, squatted back down in the pool and let my body take over. I remember sort of floating above all this, pushing, squeezing and moaning, the pain being extreme and all consuming, but yet strangely manageable. The midwife was coming and going out of the bathroom leaving me more or less to my own devices but discreetly checking baby's HB and my BP and periodically checking my progress by holding a mirror under the water. At one stage Hubs was stroking my hair, thinking it was comforting me, but really was causing me great annoyance. I remember yelling ‘Bloody- well leave my bloody hair alone, will ya’ at one stage and demanded he fetch my hair band so that I could hold it back out of the way. Remembering what I had read once on a thread on the third tri board, I also begged Hubs not to let me poo in the birthing pool...
AND THEN BABY’S HEAD CROWNED. I felt the pressure, the stretching and OHMIGORD! The burning, burning, burning ring of fire. I felt like I was going to split in two, but yet I knew it was nearly all over. I had been here before. I knew what to expect, I told myself. I remember willing myself to make one last puuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuusssssssssssssssssssssssssssh and squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze. I can only decribe the pain as trying to pass the biggest cannon ball size of a poo of my life! I felt the pressure suddenly ease and the slithering of my baby’s little body out of me…
Elizabeth Ellen Jane Cousins was guided out through the water into the world at 08.47 and into my arms by the midwife. It was the gentlest, easiest and most peaceful birth I could have imagined.
We were left alone for a few minutes to marvel at our brand new daughter, then the midwife clamped the cord for Hubs to cut. The placenta was delivered shortly afterwards and shown to us (even though we didn’t express any interest in it) by an enthusiastic midwife. Looked much like a bag of giblets to me, but we oohed and ahhed over it anyway as we wanted to show willing. Would much rather have had a kebab if you ask me.
Ellen was taken away, tagged, weighed and washed and dressed while the pool was washed and refilled for me to have a bath. I only had very minor grazes and felt wonderful. Ellen took to the breast straight away and as I write this 5 weeks exactly to the day she was born, she still loves her boob.
So there y’are. Elizabeth (after David’s Mum) Ellen (after my beloved grandmother) Jane (after my middle name) Cousins. Born in the water on Saturday 26th December 2009 at 08.47am after a 4 hour 20 minute labour and weighing 6lbs 10oz. Our clever little girl held off her appearance into the world until I had had my Christmas dinner!
She is perfect and has rocked our world.
'So throw those curtains wide. One day like this a year will see me right.'
The players are:
Me, Samantha. 41 years old. Already Mum to Calvin, 14 and Benjamin, 12.
Hubs, or known in my journals as Mr W. (Mr Wonderful) or David. Father to Aaron, 15 and Ruth, 17.
The Domestic Set-Up Is:
All the children live with us except Ruth.
This is mine and Mr W’s second marriage. We have been together 6 years and married 2 years this June.
We have two dogs, two cats, 9 chickens and a psychotic rooster called Ping.
Ellen was conceived at 40 years of age, naturally, and on third cycle of trying to conceive. I am blessed and lucky beyond words.
You can follow my adventures in both the TTC journals and pregnancy journals if you have a load of time and not much else to do! I'll post a link as soon as I can get the freedom to search the boards once this child is off my breast.
For all you lovelies who have followed me round this board – you know the craic!
Let’s begin…
40 weeks and 2 days. Those of you who know me will remember me saying that the baby could be born up until the 22nd December and if s/he wasn’t going to come by then, then s/he could jolly-well wait until Boxing Day and not come on Christmas Eve as was her EDD.
There was no indication whatsoever that Ellen was about to make her way into the world. I had been for a sweep at 40 weeks at my hospital appointment on Christmas Eve (Friday) I was ‘a good ‘ 3cms dilated apparently, but my cervix was still posterior. I had debated with the doctor who offered me the sweep whether it would be a good idea as it might interrupt Christmas day with the other children if it was successful. Anyhow, the sweep went ahead and the doc’s last words to me as I went out the door were, ‘ I hope you manage to get your Christmas Dinner at home’ Immediately after the sweep I experienced a lot of period type cramping for a few hours, then nothing. I went about my business all day thinking to myself, 'I'm 3cms dilated! I'm 3cms dilated!'
Christmas Day came and went with me in one of the foulest moods ever. I even had a hormonal rant over no one buying me Ferrero Rocher for Christmas. I had a houseful of people – my parents, kids, stepdaughter and my brother over from London. I really wasn’t in the mood at all. My own Dad particularly annoyed me by tutting all the way through and generally being unappreciative of the Christmas special Royle Family. In retrospect I think it was a massive hormone shift in preparation for the birth. I went to bed that night dressed in Hub’s old work t shirt as I was so unbelievably hot and bothered that I didn’t want to wear my jammies. You can see the t shirt I went to bed in in the pictures of me in the birthing pool. Glamour understated. I didn’t even get the time to change my clothes that morning.
THE LABOUR
Boxing Day. I woke from a fitful sleep at around 3.50am. I felt a sort of gushing feeling, not unlike the huge amount of pregnancy CM I had been experiencing the last couple of weeks of pregnancy, so didn’t think much of it. I lay and thought to myself that really, this was quite a lot of stuff coming out of me. Tottered off to the toilet and in a sleepy haze confirmed that it was indeed my waters slowly leaking, I could tell because of the unmistakable sweet smell – then gushing. Grabbed an old bath towel and stuck it between my legs and waddled back to bed. Debated with myself whether to have coffee then wake Mr W. up or wake him first and let him make coffee. My loo trip had wakened Hubs anyway and I broke the glad tidings to him that my waters were going. ‘What’s the procedure now?’ says he. Told him that usually they allow 24 hours after water breaking to deliver or come to hospital for induction and that we should have plenty of time (Bwaaaaaa haaa haaaaaa) So, coffee was casually made and we sat up in bed discussing when we would wake my Mum and Dad (who were staying over for Christmas in their motor home in our yard) to come in and mind the kids. Phoned the labour ward who told me to make our way in at our leisure, then BAM! Approx. 4.30 am first contraction which was a whopper. 5 minutes later another which stopped me in my tracks as I was getting the hospital bags together. My Mum’s memory of me when she came into the house after being woken up by Hubs was of me hanging from my bedroom doorframe in the middle of a contraction. Nice. Another contraction another 5 minutes later had me jamming the towel between my legs, hauling pyjama bottoms on, Hubs shoving shoes onto my bare feet and me, the hospital bags and all into the Discovery all the time with me asking, ‘do we have the camera? Do we have batteries? Did I pack the mobile charger’ ‘Did I pack my paper knickers?’
This had to have been the most surreal journey of my life, through a fog of pain one minute then a lucid conversation with my husband and commenting on the solitude of the roads and the beauty of the early morning the next. 3 minutes into the journey saw me hanging from the handrail on the door breathing and moaning like a cow, visualising my body opening up to allow our baby out, and Hubs driving cautiously along the country roads because of the sheet ice and one eye on his watch, timing the contractions which were now coming every three minutes. We had at least 30 more minutes of a journey to the hospital. 10 minutes from the hospital came the incredible and involuntary urge to bear down. I yelled at Hubs that Pudding was coming and to just stop in the town at the ambulance station, as I knew we weren’t going to make it to the hospital. In my half-witted state I could almost see the headlines in our local paper; ‘Boxing day baby born in a 4x4’. Mr W. said that we’d be at the hospital in 2 minutes. And we were. He drove 70 MPH through the town, through roundabouts and nearly over the top of a tootling and very alarmed early morning commuter.
Arrived at the side door of the maternity wing. Hubs jumped out and blattered the door down. I opened the door of the Disco and fell out panting like something demented and willing myself not to push ,a vision of beauty and decorum wearing my husbands old t shirt and with a bath towel stuffed between my legs and held up by my pyjama bottoms. Two midwives came rushing with a wheelchair and managed to haul me into it and off to assess me in the delivery suite. I was helped onto a bed and given gas and air to suck on while I was examined and my maternity notes read. I was fully dilated, they exclaimed and ready to deliver. No shit, Sherlock! If it hadn’t been for Mr W. mentioning to the midwives that I had had my heart set on a water birth, then I think that I would have given birth in the triage room on the bed. They debated for a few minutes as to whether I would even make it up the stairs to the midwife led unit to the birthing pool suites, but by this stage, the gas and air had slowed the contractions down a little bit which allowed them to phone upstairs to get a pool filled and me wheeled up on the bed.
THE BIRTH
The pool was filled just in time for me arriving. Plopped ungraciously into it and it was sheer bliss. To be able to float and move about at will with the contractions was wonderful – one minute on my back, next minute on all fours, doing whatever felt good for my body.(I was going to mention something about those positions getting me into this situation in the first place, but I’ll refrain) Hubs was leaning over the edge of the pool and chatting away to me but what the Dickens he was saying I cannot remember. I recall a cartoon coming on the television in the room and me asking the midwife to turn it down as it was putting me off and half watching the cars coming and going in the hospital car park that I could see from the pool out the window of the suite. The gas and air had slowed down the contractions a little and Ellen wasn’t moving down much despite the pushing, so the midwife suggested I stand up in the pool and put one leg on the edge to allow gravity to work. Minutes later I felt Ellen moving down the birth canal, squatted back down in the pool and let my body take over. I remember sort of floating above all this, pushing, squeezing and moaning, the pain being extreme and all consuming, but yet strangely manageable. The midwife was coming and going out of the bathroom leaving me more or less to my own devices but discreetly checking baby's HB and my BP and periodically checking my progress by holding a mirror under the water. At one stage Hubs was stroking my hair, thinking it was comforting me, but really was causing me great annoyance. I remember yelling ‘Bloody- well leave my bloody hair alone, will ya’ at one stage and demanded he fetch my hair band so that I could hold it back out of the way. Remembering what I had read once on a thread on the third tri board, I also begged Hubs not to let me poo in the birthing pool...
AND THEN BABY’S HEAD CROWNED. I felt the pressure, the stretching and OHMIGORD! The burning, burning, burning ring of fire. I felt like I was going to split in two, but yet I knew it was nearly all over. I had been here before. I knew what to expect, I told myself. I remember willing myself to make one last puuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuusssssssssssssssssssssssssssh and squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze. I can only decribe the pain as trying to pass the biggest cannon ball size of a poo of my life! I felt the pressure suddenly ease and the slithering of my baby’s little body out of me…
Elizabeth Ellen Jane Cousins was guided out through the water into the world at 08.47 and into my arms by the midwife. It was the gentlest, easiest and most peaceful birth I could have imagined.
We were left alone for a few minutes to marvel at our brand new daughter, then the midwife clamped the cord for Hubs to cut. The placenta was delivered shortly afterwards and shown to us (even though we didn’t express any interest in it) by an enthusiastic midwife. Looked much like a bag of giblets to me, but we oohed and ahhed over it anyway as we wanted to show willing. Would much rather have had a kebab if you ask me.
Ellen was taken away, tagged, weighed and washed and dressed while the pool was washed and refilled for me to have a bath. I only had very minor grazes and felt wonderful. Ellen took to the breast straight away and as I write this 5 weeks exactly to the day she was born, she still loves her boob.
So there y’are. Elizabeth (after David’s Mum) Ellen (after my beloved grandmother) Jane (after my middle name) Cousins. Born in the water on Saturday 26th December 2009 at 08.47am after a 4 hour 20 minute labour and weighing 6lbs 10oz. Our clever little girl held off her appearance into the world until I had had my Christmas dinner!
She is perfect and has rocked our world.
'So throw those curtains wide. One day like this a year will see me right.'
xx
