On the 27th of December 2016, we welcomed our little girl who decided to make her grand appearance a week earlier than expected.
On hindsight, she could have been born 4 days earlier if I had known what was happening to me. However, I was kept busy with Christmas preparations and a sick toddler who was down with Bronchitis.
On the night of the 26th, I didn’t sleep a wink. Daniel slept with Theo as the boy was rather poorly so I was in the room myself. I remember my tummy feeling rock hard the whole night and I simply couldn’t get up to change positions. Occasionally I would text Daniel to come in to help me. Despite all that, it wasn’t alarming enough for me. It was supposed to get worse if it was the real thing, right?
However, things got just a teeny bit alarming on the morning of the 27th which made me decide that we should head to the hospital just in case. Given my history of a placenta rupture, I didn’t want to wait around at home. I thought to myself, “If this bloody placenta was to rupture, it jolly well rupture when I’m surrounded by medical professionals in the hospital!!!” (Flashback to what the midwife at the hospital said, “If your placenta ruptured again and you’re not at the hospital, all you can do is pray hard.”)
CTG showed that I was getting some contractions (even I knew that!). The doctor did some swab and tests which confirmed that my amniotic fluid had ruptured. The hospital was quick to administer antibiotics and arrange for a c-section (which I opted for right from the start) that very afternoon.
As it was the festive season, our friends were out of town so we couldn’t get any help. Even if they were in town, we weren’t comfortable leaving a sick Theo with anyone else because people need to be comfortable to administer his seizure medicine should he have one. Hence, I decided to go into the Operating Theatre myself without Daniel (again).
It wasn’t an easy decision. True, I knew there would be such a possibility right from the start, but when faced with reality, I was SO SCARED. I was lying down in the preparation room shivering and they didn’t allow Daniel to come in to see me because Theo wasn’t allowed in. Fortunately, the doctors and midwives who took care of me were very supportive. They gave me lots of assurance and hugs. They cracked jokes to lighten the atmosphere. They tried to take things off my mind.
Looking back, the worst bit of my c-section experience wasn’t the fact that I was cut open awake or that the wound hurts. It was the epidural. The pain I experienced when I was injected FOUR times on my spine was something I’ve never experienced in my life. Not even my worst contraction was as painful as the epidural. It wasn’t the injection that hurt. It was when the medication entered my body. The pressure it created on the left side of my back near my kidney was excruciating. And all I could do then was hold on real tight to the hands of the doctor whom I’ve met the first time and screamed for them to stop. Of course they didn’t stop. And guess what I found out today? I had FOUR jabs because the anaesthetist missed “THE POINT”.
Once the epidural took effect, everything went on pretty smoothly. Within minutes, Mia was born healthily and placed on my chest pretty much a couple of minutes after being checked by the paedetrician.
So yes, I am now a very proud Mama two beautiful kids whom I’m so blessed to have.