My Birth Story - part 1, the pregnancy.
My birth story really has to begin with the pregnancy. Cubs father and I lived together but were sleeping in separate rooms - I didn't love him any more but I think part of me was trying to make a go of things just so that the previous three years had not been a complete waste of time. He was moody and paranoid - on his birthday in January he'd accused me of pretending to be sick to ruin his day. I'd been up all night with the worst most painful sickness bug I can remember, running to the loo for the one end and vomiting so furiously that at one point I 'leaked' (I'd be doing a bit more of THAT later on in the year with a baby on my bladder!). I was studying for my DTLLS and my grades reflected my home life - I'd gone from being a high first to second class degree grades. At Easter, my Grandma saw how much the relationship was distressing and upsetting me and paid for an flat in Lytham St Annes for a week for me and my dog Shadow, because she was holidaying there and saw I could do with some space away from him.
Although I didn't know it at the time, my son was also with me on that holiday. Shadow and I walked and walked and walked for miles along the coast, through wind rain and sunshine and collapsed exhausted into bed at night-time, all pink cheeked and relaxed. My head was fogged and my body seemed excessively weary but I put it down the the upset of living with someone who was making me unhappy.
On my return, I remember one day at work discussing with my boss my late period - she said to me that I was usually on before her, and I had still not arrived. Cubs dad and I had only shared a bed on a couple of occasions all year so although part of me was suspicious of my body, a bigger part of me dismissed it, but not enough to stop me heading to asda after work for a test. It was in the less than glamorous location of asda walsgrave toilets that I found out that I was pregnant.
The situation between myself and cubs dad was terrible, and he had often stressed that he didn't want any more kids (he already had one son and there was a difficult situation with his mother). I was terrified to go home, I really did not want to tell him, so I drove to my bosses house in tears and stayed there until I had calmed down. My own family had told me in the past that if I was to get pregnant I'd be on my own, so the thought of the whole scenario was too much to think about.
I did finally find the courage to return home, if only to walk the dogs (we also had a rottweiler pup by then) which I knew he wouldn't have done. When I told him, he was at first angry, then accepting. I was exhausted, the morning sickness came on very quickly after that and though I wasn't physically sick, I had an indescribably bad nausea that persisted day and night, so that all day was dreadful and all night uncomfortable. I worked in a drop in centre and there were certain people that made this nausea worse (it amplified every bad smell!). Cigarette smoke was awful and the smell of weed smoke made my head spin. The ex smoked both. I asked him time and again not to do it in the house and he kept on lying and saying he hadn't - I even got leaflets from the midwife about smoking and the unborn child but he denied he was doing it.
I asked him repeatedly to leave and to find somewhere else to live, even getting the police to help me throw him out after he threatened to drag me down the abortion clinic. But foolish old me let him stay for a few nights when I found out he'd been sleeping in his car and getting up like that to go to work the next day. Fatal mistake, but then, maybe an essential move in the pattern of events to follow - I would not have liked to stay living in central Coventry in that house with the downstairs bathroom, and no bath, when I was further along in the pregnancy!
My breasts started to hurt too, they swelled up and I'd have to hold them when I drove over speed bumps on the road, even though I was by that time wearing sports bras. With the nausea, my body was becoming a really hard place to inhabit, and in retrospect, maybe I shouldn't have just stopped taking my antidepressants like the irresponsible doctor told me too. I was single handedly keeping the house clean, walking two large dogs in all weathers and house hunting for me and the baby all with two massive painful boobs, crippling nausea and uncontrollable emotions. It was not a rosy picture. I found out that I was having a boy, which came as a shock after having convinced myself I was carrying a girl (a boy! what was I going to do with a BOY?) but I was happy, if terrified, to be becoming a mum. I'd always wanted a child but resigned myself that I never would, and these were certainly less than ideal circumstances.
I finally found a little cottage in a small village on the north side of coventry to move to and tried to keep a civilised relationship with cubs dad because I thought it was the right thing to do for him (the baby) to at least try and be friends with his dad. Just as I moved into the house, I learned that my contract at work was not to be renewed, so now I was going to be unemployed as well as being a single mum. I slipped into a deep depression, not helped by 'mix ups' by the DWP, leaving me hungry and isolated with no money for travel. I would spend most of the day in tears, in bed or immobile, staring at daytime tv, only moving twice a day to take the dogs out for their walks. I attended my midwife appointments and got a lot of helpful support from her, and saw a psychiatrist at the hospital every few weeks. The midwife introduced me to a local group for mums and mums to be that ran activities like exercise for pregnant ladies and various bits and bobs about childcare, and that got me out of the house every week, and I could see the midwife at the same time too.
The last part of my pregnancy feels like a daze now, I see in in my mind as cold and dark and very very lonely. I suppose eventually the antidepressants kicked in and I became more mobile again but after the nausea faded I only had a few weeks respite before the rib pain and indigestion kicked in. I would sleep with my bump supported by pillows and it felt so heavy when I was out walking the dogs that I would make some kind of support sling for it with a scarf. I had to eventually know my limits and made the ex take the rottie back to live with him - she always liked him the best anyway, she was a pup and needed more than I could give her - Shadow was always 'my' dog - when we had separate rooms, Shadow slept with me and the rottie with him. (I still miss her!).
My baby was due on the 19th December but his head dropped into place six weeks prior to this date. I was convinced that he would come early - maybe, hopeful - and walking became hobbling and was incredibly slow and painful in the cold and slippy winter mud. I was packed and ready to go and attending an NCT antenatal course that allayed my fears about the birthing process for me. I had packed my bags and written a birth plan (water birth, minimal pain relief). My Grandma bought me a cot, and the new baby was going to sleep first of all in a tiny crib that I had slept in when I was born - it was all washed and my dad has painted it ready for the new arrival. I had some cute little baby clothes and my parents had helped me research and buy a travel system and I was ready as I'd ever be.
Although I didn't know it at the time, my son was also with me on that holiday. Shadow and I walked and walked and walked for miles along the coast, through wind rain and sunshine and collapsed exhausted into bed at night-time, all pink cheeked and relaxed. My head was fogged and my body seemed excessively weary but I put it down the the upset of living with someone who was making me unhappy.
On my return, I remember one day at work discussing with my boss my late period - she said to me that I was usually on before her, and I had still not arrived. Cubs dad and I had only shared a bed on a couple of occasions all year so although part of me was suspicious of my body, a bigger part of me dismissed it, but not enough to stop me heading to asda after work for a test. It was in the less than glamorous location of asda walsgrave toilets that I found out that I was pregnant.
The situation between myself and cubs dad was terrible, and he had often stressed that he didn't want any more kids (he already had one son and there was a difficult situation with his mother). I was terrified to go home, I really did not want to tell him, so I drove to my bosses house in tears and stayed there until I had calmed down. My own family had told me in the past that if I was to get pregnant I'd be on my own, so the thought of the whole scenario was too much to think about.
I did finally find the courage to return home, if only to walk the dogs (we also had a rottweiler pup by then) which I knew he wouldn't have done. When I told him, he was at first angry, then accepting. I was exhausted, the morning sickness came on very quickly after that and though I wasn't physically sick, I had an indescribably bad nausea that persisted day and night, so that all day was dreadful and all night uncomfortable. I worked in a drop in centre and there were certain people that made this nausea worse (it amplified every bad smell!). Cigarette smoke was awful and the smell of weed smoke made my head spin. The ex smoked both. I asked him time and again not to do it in the house and he kept on lying and saying he hadn't - I even got leaflets from the midwife about smoking and the unborn child but he denied he was doing it.
I asked him repeatedly to leave and to find somewhere else to live, even getting the police to help me throw him out after he threatened to drag me down the abortion clinic. But foolish old me let him stay for a few nights when I found out he'd been sleeping in his car and getting up like that to go to work the next day. Fatal mistake, but then, maybe an essential move in the pattern of events to follow - I would not have liked to stay living in central Coventry in that house with the downstairs bathroom, and no bath, when I was further along in the pregnancy!
My breasts started to hurt too, they swelled up and I'd have to hold them when I drove over speed bumps on the road, even though I was by that time wearing sports bras. With the nausea, my body was becoming a really hard place to inhabit, and in retrospect, maybe I shouldn't have just stopped taking my antidepressants like the irresponsible doctor told me too. I was single handedly keeping the house clean, walking two large dogs in all weathers and house hunting for me and the baby all with two massive painful boobs, crippling nausea and uncontrollable emotions. It was not a rosy picture. I found out that I was having a boy, which came as a shock after having convinced myself I was carrying a girl (a boy! what was I going to do with a BOY?) but I was happy, if terrified, to be becoming a mum. I'd always wanted a child but resigned myself that I never would, and these were certainly less than ideal circumstances.
I finally found a little cottage in a small village on the north side of coventry to move to and tried to keep a civilised relationship with cubs dad because I thought it was the right thing to do for him (the baby) to at least try and be friends with his dad. Just as I moved into the house, I learned that my contract at work was not to be renewed, so now I was going to be unemployed as well as being a single mum. I slipped into a deep depression, not helped by 'mix ups' by the DWP, leaving me hungry and isolated with no money for travel. I would spend most of the day in tears, in bed or immobile, staring at daytime tv, only moving twice a day to take the dogs out for their walks. I attended my midwife appointments and got a lot of helpful support from her, and saw a psychiatrist at the hospital every few weeks. The midwife introduced me to a local group for mums and mums to be that ran activities like exercise for pregnant ladies and various bits and bobs about childcare, and that got me out of the house every week, and I could see the midwife at the same time too.
The last part of my pregnancy feels like a daze now, I see in in my mind as cold and dark and very very lonely. I suppose eventually the antidepressants kicked in and I became more mobile again but after the nausea faded I only had a few weeks respite before the rib pain and indigestion kicked in. I would sleep with my bump supported by pillows and it felt so heavy when I was out walking the dogs that I would make some kind of support sling for it with a scarf. I had to eventually know my limits and made the ex take the rottie back to live with him - she always liked him the best anyway, she was a pup and needed more than I could give her - Shadow was always 'my' dog - when we had separate rooms, Shadow slept with me and the rottie with him. (I still miss her!).
My baby was due on the 19th December but his head dropped into place six weeks prior to this date. I was convinced that he would come early - maybe, hopeful - and walking became hobbling and was incredibly slow and painful in the cold and slippy winter mud. I was packed and ready to go and attending an NCT antenatal course that allayed my fears about the birthing process for me. I had packed my bags and written a birth plan (water birth, minimal pain relief). My Grandma bought me a cot, and the new baby was going to sleep first of all in a tiny crib that I had slept in when I was born - it was all washed and my dad has painted it ready for the new arrival. I had some cute little baby clothes and my parents had helped me research and buy a travel system and I was ready as I'd ever be.
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