There isn’t much I remember about the 33 hour or so long labour I had to endure before Tom’s dramatic. But I do I remember the first contractions outside Browns in York at about 2.30pm and not saying anything until I knew for sure they were regular and I needed the tens machine. About 4 hours later.
I remember we watched ‘knocked up’ (hilarious!!) while I paced the kitchen and the Big Man stopped the movie every time I had a contraction to time it. The 90 minute film that lasted double the time.
I remember sitting in the footwell of the backseat of the car to the hospital… and then snippets of laughing gas, drugs, vomiting, different drugs, vomiting again and vowing never to eat babybel or drink Ribena again.
I remember shouting loudly to rub my back harder, HARDER…. Until he said he couldn’t bring himself to do it anymore as I had no skin left…
I remember having an out of body experience. Probably the concoction of different pain relief, lack of sleep, lack of food, intense pain and my body shut it out. I remember feeling pinned to the ceiling of my sterile NHS room and looking down at myself in my blue NHS gown as I rocked myself, comforted myself and breathed through the pain.
I remember the intense, brief pain as Tom partially arrived and just as quickly after, the intense panic as the room filled with many medical staff and I was quickly put into a strange position while all I could hear in my ear was ‘don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic’… either my mind or the Big Man’s voice.
I remember my first view of Tom and my heart was never the same again. The feeling of knowing him already at the same time as meeting him for the first time…
I remember feeling numb as the paediatricians whisked him off to the SCIBU as he wasn’t breathing.
I remember the Big Man bringing my baby back in to the room so I could hold him and feed him for the first time. And the memory brings tears to my eyes now.
My angel son.
I remember my angel son, his smell, his mew, his snuggles, his softness and all the pain, fear and worry dissipated in to nothingness, just a few snippets of the 33 hours hours.
An intense period of time. An emotional rollercoaster of a few days. The worst bits forgotten. Just acceptance of the inevitable and excruciating pain and emotional turbulence and the memory of the precious moments as the dust settled and the realisation that life would never be the same again, just far, far better because of the journey and outcome.
In 9 years from now, I hope I will feel the same about the last 57 days; acceptance of the excruciating pain and eventual settling of the dust, knowing that the best outcomes happen after the hardest journey.