Two weeks ago, I woke early. Lay in bed. Felt a pop and a gush of water (thank goodness I had been using the waterproof under-sheets!!) I lay there in shock for a few minutes: our little baby had decided to make an entrance two weeks early. Two weeks in which I had planned on finishing packing my bags (I know, I know), airing babygros and vests, finding a good book to read when I was in hospital. After being mithered with strong false pains for weeks, I didn’t have as much as a twinge. All my fanciful imaginings that this baby would swoop into our world at speed before a Caesarian section could be performed (I have had three previous C.S.) were dashed: this was my third baby to turn from head down to an unstable lie as soon as the membranes ruptured. So I had a bit of a cry at what lay ahead, took some Aconite for shock and concentrated on my GentleBirth affirmation: “I am prepared for whatever path my birthing takes” (I did the GentleBirth self hypnosis programme whilst pregnant, and cannot praise it highly enough. I give all the credit for the fact I was feeling completely calm and didn’t cry the entire time I was in theatre) (the lack of tears was a great relief for everyone I’m sure. It’s a bit unnerving to have a wife or patient who can’t control her hysteria while on a narrow operating table)
We headed to the hospital and that afternoon, Anna arrived into our world: tiny, unbelievably soft and perfect. It was all very calm, very gentle and very happy.
Unfortunately, I had some complications (nicked bladder) which for normal people would have been a bit of a setback; for me, everything that could go wrong did go wrong. Ten days ago I wouldn’t have rated my chances of sitting here typing this too highly; so with every fibre of my being, I feel utter and complete relief and gratitude for my care while in hospital (I attended Portiuncula Hospital in Ballinasloe, Co. Galway. The midwives were outstanding in their kindness and care, as were the care staff and doctors); for my family who leaped into action and rallied around, minding me and our children; for friends who prayed and prayed and prayed some more and supported us, and for Homeopathy: I am really so blessed.
I am only home a few days and well on the road to recovery. I have another bit to go, but I’m okay. I’m writing this with a very small, miniature human tucked under my chin (where she likes to nuzzle to), kissing her with every tiny sigh and moan (every ten seconds or so) so it’s hard to feel anything but utter joy.
I’m happy to forget the nightmare that was: I’m here, I’m home, my husband makes me tea and scones in the morning and tells me he loves me and I’m beautiful even though I feel battered and gunky and I’ve tubes coming out of me and weird complaints; my older children spend their time lavishing our Little One with love and kisses; I’m alive, -I’m alive!- and getting well, and feeling positive and grateful and so very, very blessed.
This time two weeks ago feels like an instant, and in another way, an eternity. So many times every day, we hold our teeny baby and marvel at how incredible and perfect she is, and how, hard to believe, she hasn’t always been with us. Oh, the smell! The softness! The utter deliciousness of a newborn! Welcome home Baby Anna xx