It Began...

On Tuesday, really. Lots of Braxton Hicks (even more than usual) and a few mild contractions. Wednesday I stayed in all day and they progressed. We had spicy curry that night and halfway through dinner, I got a serious contraction.

Still not thinking "this is it!" I went to bed just in case and tried to sleep until around 8:30, when I gave up. B dropped a line to our list of contacts giving them a heads up and I spent the rest of the evening coping with increasing pain. I may have dozed off for about 10 minutes once or twice, but around 1am the contractions got real serious. Around 3-4am, E's granny heroically took a cab across London. At 5am B and I got to the hospital. By this time contractions were every 3-5 minutes and that trite old advice about taking two paracetemol (Tylenol)? yeah that stuff doesn't touch that kind of pain.

At about 5:15am I was examined by a triage midwife who proclaimed me to be 4cm dilated. She gave me a pitying look. She thought I was a wuss. Little did she know....

The hospital this time was mercifully unbusy, although it had apparently undergone a baby boom in the earlier hours of the night, so we got lucky. B and I were shown a room and I, casting aside the shreds of my dignity, dove for the laughing gas/gas-and-air nozzle and began huffing.

From then on, everything was a blur. I remember the pain getting worse and asking about epidural options. At this point I think everyone thought things were going to drag out much, much longer. They hadn't even sent us a proper midwife yet. Fortunately B is a good communicator and stuck his head out the door to inform them that things were going faster than expected.

I vaguely remember gulping down the laughing gas and yelling my head off. At one point I got all Exorcist and remember involuntarily "absolutely bellowing" (as B put it), I reckon this was right before I dilated to 10cm (WITHIN THE HOUR THANK-YOU-VERY-MUCH unbelieving triage nurse) and they had to hustle a midwife in. C was born in about 2.5 pushes. I'll spare you the rest of the gory details since I doubt any actual doulas read this blog.

So there you have it. I probably forgot a few details like poor B's bruised hands - seriously the guy was an absolute star throughout and gentlemanly enough to stay at my top half during the bloody parts.

As for recovery, they say that going all-natural (well, I WAS off my head on the laughing gas but that stuff doesn't stay in your system or affect you long) means one gets back on their feet quicker, but I've still got after-effects which makes bed look very attractive. Fortunately, the midwives here still do home visits - got one today and they'll be back again for more baby checks/heel prick tests etc.

I'll end this now since a certain Miss is beginning to stir.

Obligatory drunken gnome photo (big brother was sorting coins in the background):