New (long winded) Beginnings

Well, one month (tomorrow...YIKES!!) has passed since this little bundle of joy entered our lives in rather a hurry. Not actually due until the 19th of June, Xander has been an absolute delight since he joined our family, already proving to be a relatively placid happy babe, who only tends to cry if he’s hungry and no-one’s responded to his quieter demands within 5 minutes, or if he’s cold. Even a wet or stinky bum is barely acknowledged.
The pregnancy itself was reasonably easy-going, with just the expected swollen uncomfortable ankles, mood swings (oh BOY were there mood swings!! Beware the pregnant woman indeed!), back aches (well that part was nothing new for me, unfortunately), constant tiredness (falling asleep on the phones at work was quite a common thing, and luckily I only got caught once, but it affected my work in other ways, leading to ALMOST losing my job the week before my annual/maternity leave started!), and of course, money worries. Stress, stress, oh and how about another dash of stress, just for good measure?! Certainly not a time I’ll be wanting to repeat any time soon, as I’m sure Karl would agree. *g* So much for the blooming mother-to-be. I think I withered more than bloomed. But… it was most definitely worth it!
At 6.15am on Tuesday, 27th May, after a night on the couch (ah, delightful mood swings, but at least my back thanked me for it as for once it wasn’t screaming when I woke up *sigh*), I woke up to find things, err… rather damp. Now after a few days of worse-than-usual back pain plus period-like stomach cramps, I was kinda on alert for anything even remotely resembling waters breaking or things starting. But there’d been a couple of false alarms before, so I had to try not to get excited as I headed for the loo to check things out. Definite leakage of something gooey. Ok, that’s not normal. Still, I now had to fight even harder NOT to get my hopes up. Having been induced with Gordy, I had no idea what to expect with going into labour naturally, so I had to bite down the urge to go and disturb the midwife just to see if the goo could possibly be waters breaking. The least I could do was wait for a somewhat more civilised hour before pestering her. I think I managed to make it to 8/8.30am before I made the call, but by that stage, poor Karl had already had his sleep disturbed by my rummaging around in the bedroom trying to find the midwife’s pager number, and the announcement that I thought my waters had broken probably made it difficult for him to get back to sleep. Hmm… ya think? I was too focused on a) trying NOT to get over-the-top excited that this could be it, and b) watching the time tick by until I felt that it was a decent enough time to ring my midwife. Finally, I gave in and made the call, only to be told by the midwife to “stick a pad on, wait and see, then ring back about lunch-time”. Wait and see?? Oh goodie, my favourite game… “hurry up and wait”! NOT!!!!!! So in the pad went and I went about TRYING to forget it long enough to focus on something else, just so I didn’t go nutty with having to wait (yeah, good luck on that score!), only to get reminded every time I coughed, sneezed, or even just stood up and would feel another squirt or dribble. Slowly lunch-time rolled around, and I rung the MW back, letting her know about the latest leakages (oh really, such fascinating topics to be discussing with people I barely even know!), and then had to really stomp down on excitement when I was told to meet her up at the delivery suite in just under an hour. She was going to put me on the monitor!! WOOT!! We had progress (of a sort, anyway)!
So off we went to the hospital (round and round the car-park we go, trying to find a wretched empty spot for the car! Car-park, at the hospital… you ARE kidding right?), where I got put onto the monitor and got to listen to baby’s heartbeat again (always an enjoyable activity), while the MW checked the contents on the pad (ewww… such a FUN job!) and confirmed that yes, it was amniotic fluid. Ok, Houstin we have lift-off, err, well we did until the engine started having hiccups and second thoughts. That’s right, waters had broken, but Xani obviously decided that it was too darn cold to come out just yet. Can’t say I actually blame the poor boy! On further inspection, it turned out that there was a small hole in the back of the water sac, but still plenty of fluid around bubs, and though there were a few contractions, they were only very very mild and nowhere near regular. So what to do next?! After learning I had Group B Strep on my 2nd-to-last visit to the MW, things couldn’t be left for too long without risking harm to Xander if he hadn’t gotten the ball rolling properly. So I was admitted for the night, with the Doctors pretty sure full on labour would start sometime during the night. But, if it didn’t, then like with Gordy, I would be induced. Xani had obviously totally changed his mind about coming out, as nothing happened that evening, and when I was put back on the monitor the following morning, even the mild contractions I’d been having the previous night had stopped. So, the MW did an internal check (yikes… that’s one way to make sure I’m fully awake! DANG that hurt woman!!!!) and found I was 3cm dialated. Internally I was ready enough to have the injection that would start the contractions properly (and I THOUGHT I was ready mentally as well… but then are we ever FULLY prepared mentally and emotionally for the birth of our children??), instead of needing the gel to prepare the cervix like I’d had with Gordy. Time to become a pin-cushion, so NOT my favourite role! Between the drip that fed the contraction-starting-fluid (“Syntocinon” I think it’s called), and the injections of penicillin to keep Xander safe from the Group B Strep during the labour (oh why won’t my wretched veins behave for anyone?? Argg!!) I had tape and plasters all over my hands, which made things even more uncomfortable, as if I didn’t have enough to cause discomfort with the actual labour itself. *sigh*
So that was about 10am, but there were no signs of anything even resembling a contraction until after 11am, but even they were extremely mild, tightening sensations without pain. The swiss ball was given a go, but while it proved interesting (never tried one of those before, and it was rather fun trying to keep my balance, and proved rather comfy too), it hampered more than helped once the tightenings started to pick up in pain factor and regularity, especially since the monitor sensors wouldn’t read things properly every time I tried to lean forward against the bed, which made things more comfortable when the contractions came. Back up onto the bed it was just after 12pm, where at least I could get a heat pack behind my back, which helped quite a lot.
It was by about this stage that Karl could no longer focus on his book (even I had tried reading to distract me from the pain and just to pass the time, but it was now rapidly getting to the point where the pains were getting closer together, stronger, and lasting longer… so both books got ignored now), and started having his hand used as a stress-ball. I don’t THINK I left any bruises, but it sure wasn’t through lack of effort!
1pm… another damn uncomfortable internal exam. YEOOOWWWWWCCCHHH!!! Get those darned fingers OUTTA THERE woman!! With me gasping and squirming (seriously, this felt more painful than the wretched contractions themselves!!), the MW found a bubble of membrane, so broke it, causing a rather large gush of…yeah, well, I’m sure you get the picture! And then it was ALL on!! The contractions picked up pace and intensity, and it wasn't long before I was wanting some kind of pain relief. Now with Gordy, I’d ended up with Pethidine, but the MW wasn’t too keen on using that this time round, and I wasn’t at all keen on the whole epidural side of things (although during the later stages even that got pretty damn tempting!!), so it was the gas that was used this time. UGH! Made me feel rather woozy, and didn’t really seem to help with the pain at all, but at least concentrating on breathing it in gave me something other than pain to focus on. But the woozy feeling got too much at one stage, and there went what had been my rather yummy lunch. Certainly wasn’t tasty the second time round!!
Somewhere in amongst all this, Xander, who had started off in the posterior position, decided to roll into the more favourable position, which would’ve been fine, IF he’d done it when he WASN’T already engaged. But as he was, the turning caused even further pain, sharper than the contractions.
I was now wrapped up in a world that consisted only of a mixture of extreme pain and breathing the gas. Karl and the MW’s presence were barely even registered. I wanted this over and done with. This game was no fun any more… someone please show me the EXIT button?!!!!!!! However, even though all I could think of was the pain, I still noticed that at the peak of each contraction, I was now starting to get hints of pressure. Was that my body wanting to push?? MW seemed to think so, and told me to just go with it. After 20 minutes, it had become clear even to me that my body was finally ready to evict this baby, so I gave in and started pushing. 5 minutes later, at 14:44, Xander Craig rushed into the world with a huge gush of fluid, and was instantly lifted up into my rather eager arms. He was finally here!! The little treasure I’d waited almost 8 years for, was lying snuggled in my arms, covered in yellow cheesy vernix, weighing 6lb 14oz (or 3140g), and rather purple. It took a while to warm him up and get him turning from that horrible purple to a proper pinkish colour, with a few bluish bruises (face, left arm, and back), brought about by the rapid birth and turning during the labour. The placenta came away 6 minutes after the birth with only a couple of easy pushes, which was a HUGE relief after all the trouble there’d been with Gordy’s placenta being retained. And this time round, no painful tearing. Again, a huge relief! Everything was checked, the Vitamin K injection given, and he was again in my arms, showing a small amount of interest in the breast, although that didn’t last very long. By 16:00, I was very keen for a shower, while Karl got his first ever cuddle of our newest family member, and had the joy of trying to dress a newborn. Not an easy task! LOL! The shower felt wonderful, and I almost didn’t want to leave, but at the same time, I couldn’t wait to have my baby boy back in my arms again. So, off to the post-natal ward we went (with me getting my first ever ride in a wheel chair... wheeeeeeeee!!!!!), and were soon settled and reasonably comfortable (well, about as comfortable as one can be after having just given birth… some things were still rather tender, and I was soooooo tired!).
The next couple of days slipped by in a blur of a few visitors (Granny & Gramps, Oma and the newly named Opa, Gordy, and of course, Karl), loads and loads of cuddles with Xani (something I still just can’t seem to get enough of!!), yummy meals (surprisingly, the hospital actually CAN put on a good feed, and I think I only had one meal the whole time I was there that I DIDN’T like!), and the slowly increasing worry about Jaundice, after being stuck in hospital when Gordy was born for 8 days because of it. Was it just me, or was Xani’s skin starting to take on that horrible yellow tinge?? But Friday rolled around, and when the MW came to visit, I was given the all clear to take baby Xander home. Yay… freedom!!! I couldn’t WAIT to get him home, and settled, and TRY to start working on some kind of routine. First off though, I wanted to give him his first ever bath, so I could put him into his “go home” clothes nice and clean. So the charge-midwife brought the baby bath in and started getting it ready, then saw Xani’s skin when he was near the window, and worriedly commented about the colour. It was too yellow for her liking, so she decided to do a heel-prick (the first of many to come unfortunately!), and we had to wait for about an hour before the results came through. So Xani had his bath, and I had to fight down the now rapidly building worry that things were about to go sour, and we’d be stuck in the hospital for even longer. The results came back, and at first (thanks to midwives getting his birth date wrong) they meant we’d have to stay, but when the results were re-checked with the CORRECT date in mind, he was just within the safe area, so we were given the ok (again) to go home.
So home we went, and the next few hours caused more worry as Xani seemed to get sleepier and sleepier, and just wasn’t interested in feeding. Occasionally he’d mouth around, like he wanted a feed, but his mouth was always facing AWAY from the breast and I just couldn’t get him to latch. So I grew more frustrated, which of course didn’t help matters, then Mum came round and tried to help, ending up with me expressing milk onto a teaspoon and getting him to drink some that way. The following morning, I was VERY worried, as his skin was even more yellow, and he was still rather sleepy. The MW’s backup came over, and did another heel-prick (although this one was the Guthrie heel-prick, so wasn’t expecting anything from it), plus gave more tips on positioning with breastfeeding, and then she left, and it was more of worrying about Xani’s skin colour and his sleepiness. Later that arvo, I got a very much unwanted phone call from my MW’s back-up, saying that the bloods taken from the Guthrie test had shown Xani’s “bilirubin” levels (this is what causes Jaundice) had risen, and he needed to go back to the hospital to have “photo-therapy”. Arggggg!!!! To have gotten home, starting to settle in, and then be dragged back into hospital was just absolutely HORRIBLE! The 8 days I’d spent there with Gordy for the same thing had been bad enough, but this was worse. Teased with the taste of freedom, only to have it snatched away the following day. But Xander’s health was more important by far than my dislike of being in the hospital, so back we went and under the lights he was put. Wearing nothing other than a cute little mask (which caused him to wiggle and squirm til it no longer covered his eyes, despite how he’d been previously wiggling and squirming to make sure hats DID cover his eyes… can’t win with this boy, seriously!! And he’s only a few days old!), and a nappy, Xani seemed to absolutely LOVE the lights – laying back spread out, relaxed and happy on his own private sun bed. He looked so cute and sweet, but that just made it even harder to bear. It was bad enough being stuck back in hospital, with bugger all visitors, and next to nothing to do (even my book ran out pretty quickly), but by FAR, the worst bit was having my baby so close, but not being able to actually cuddle him except for when he needed a feed because he needed to be under the lights as much as possible. I don’t know how many times I ended up crying because of how much I just wanted to hold him, but couldn’t. I probably even delayed his recovery because I’d linger over feeds, just to get that extra cuddle-time. Every time they’d do another blood test (his poor little heels became pin cushions! But I’m kinda hoping that’ll help him when it comes time for vaccinations), I’d sit and watch the clock for the time when the results would be due, and if they didn’t bring them soon enough, I’d go hunting down whichever midwife was looking after me at the time to get them. But every single time, it was “no, sorry, we’ll wait a few more hours then take another test and see what happens then”. Grrrrrr!! Wretched horrible “hurry up and wait” game! We even spent a few hours in the neo-natal ward so he could be under yet more lights. It was there that the midwives told me we should never have been released in the first place. This seriously annoyed me… if we shouldn’t have been released, then why the heck were we? If they’d kept us in, Xani would’ve been under the lights even sooner, and we could have been home and STAYED HOME a lot sooner!!!! So between this and my MW not taking a proper look at Xani on the day she told us we could go home, meaning she didn’t see how bad the Jaundice was, had me rather peeved at the hospital, which just made it even more unbearable being stuck there. But finally, the bilirubin levels came down enough that I could take my precious baby boy home, but it was still a few days (and, unfortunately for Xani, a few more heel-pricks) before I could relax and believe we were actually home for good.

There is still more to write on Xani's first few weeks to bring things up to date, but I'd better leave this post here before it goes from short story to full on novel!!