THE CRUELTY OF NATURE

As I said on 11-01-10, sleeping on my stomach is one of the pleasures I miss most when I am pregnant. The first night after having a baby I lie there on my (wobbly) stomach feeling all is right with the world again. Of course, what I always forget is that the very next day, when the milk comes in you can no longer sleep on your stomach because your boobs hurt too badly! Waaaah. Nine days on and I am still too sore :-(

BIRTH AGAIN

When I had Anna back in 2007, I blogged the birth after a few days as a reminder to myself and Anna herself in years to come. Unfortunately I wasn't a blogger back when I had the others - though maybe soon I should note those down as best I can remember them too before time takes its toll...
The last month has been hard. Because of the size of Baked as we'd all come to know her, I reached breaking point physically about the end of November. I was still working and just reaching my laptop was sore. I was exhausted but needed to finish two months work in one to allow myself to go on maternity leave on 11 December. Working from home with no childcare for a two year old means working when no kids are about. Thomas was working with New Zealand which was helpful because it meant he could take off mornings and work till late in the evening. That allowed me to work mornings and after Marcel went to bed at 10pm. Working till midnight or one every day for the last month is not to be recommended but needs must.
When I visited the hospital on December 2, it was insinuated that they planned to induce me on December 30, so I fixed that goal in my mind.
By Christmas walking around a supermarket had become too painful with such a big baby. Eating wasn't fun, sleeping impossible. For the first time in all my pregnancies I was finding it hard to stay positive.
When nothing happened at the end of December and they threatened to leave me till the 23rd of January before inducing me I was really depressed. Eventually I simply became resigned and set my focus further in the future to get through.
Labour started and stopped on New Year's Day and after that I lay awake most nights exhausting myself unnecessarily.
Finally on 10-1-10, I went to hunt out the dreaded Southern in preparation for my hospital transfer. I sat up late that night on the computer blogging, editing photos, reading news and went to bed around 1am.
At 4 I woke up with a contraction. There was nothing new there as this had happened most nights for a month. Once again I knew I would sit and time potential twinges for an hour or two, then go to sleep once I had established there was no pattern. I had a contraction again at 4-15 and one at 4-30. They then went to ten minute intervals... I was following the pattern of January 1st all over again.
When they were still doing this at 5, I decided to waken Thomas who contacted mum and dad to babysit the other four. The only request they'd made was that I shouldn't get them up at 4am - oops.
I rang triage and no one answered for ages. Had the hospital shut two days early? Eventually a yawning man said Hellllllooooo? I was almost convinced I had rung a private house but I guess they just weren't busy because he seemed to know what I was talking about.
Driving in at 6-30am before rush hour took just 16 minutes - in which time I had six contractions. Whoever put speed bumps around the car park of a maternity hospital has never been in labour!
We parked at the door and it took another two contractions to get into reception. Triage, which had been a disaster last time round (and hadn't existed for my first three) was a delight. There was no insistence on monitoring and given my previous history, the friendly nurse simply sent me straight to delivery after ascertaining I was already 3-4cm.
Unfortunately she told me I had to have this put in my hand as I was at a great risk of losing too much blood. This was to become the most unpleasant part of the next 24 hours.

I walked up to deliveries and met a middle-aged Irish midwife who took down all my details but was going off duty at 7am. She handed over to a younger Chinese midwife who was introduced to me as 'Hughie'. Despite my pain, I had to laugh and think of what my old Gramps might have said had he lived to hear the story of Shug the Chinese midwife! (It turned out to be Hiu-ying, by the way!)
I was told the registrar would have to be present at my birth because of "the high risk of caesarean, shoulder dystocia or severe bleeding". Funny all these high risks that seemed to be stamped on my notes but which had never been mentioned to me!
If truth be told, I have over the years heard many stories along the lines - I was told my baby was going to be 9lbs but it turned out to be 7lbs etc. I really didn't want a caesarean so refused it, but deep down I was also convinced they were probably wrong about the baby I was carrying. Yes, I could feel it was big but not drastically bigger than usual, not 25% bigger. I had already mentally written the blog rant about their threats of a near ten pounder being complete nonsense once the baby had weighed in at 8lb 4! I was wondering where all these potential high risk stories in my notes were coming from.
From 7 to 8 I tried kneeling and using gas and air. After 8 I tried standing by the bed but didn't last too long. Thomas was wonderful as he was last time. Having had the girls with his support, I wonder now how I ever got through birth alone, as André was never present at the births claiming to be too squeamish to cope. I had no idea how much the support of a loved one can help get you through even the worst pain.
By 8-30 I was back on the bed and sitting, becoming less and less aware of my surroundings. I heard 'Shug' mention something about expecting the baby to arrive within the hour. I forced my eyes open and glanced at the clock: 8-45am. I could hear Hughie and Thomas chatting but I wasn't there any more, trying simply to breathe through each contraction. Hughie asked if she could break my waters as they hadn't gone naturally. I was beyond caring. She told me I was now 7cm dilated. She also asked if a student doctor could come in as he was sitting his finals soon - by that point in labour they could invite in the whole bus queue from outside the hospital - you really don't care!
As soon as she broke my waters dead on 9am, I needed to push, despite not being 10cm. Within 3 minutes her very big head was out. Unlike Anna though, she stopped at this point and didn't shoot past the midwife. Maybe she was slightly bigger than Anna (who had been 3.4kg/7lb8) but one more push and she was out all the same. My blog rant was reappearing in my head as I managed to give birth in just 5 hours without drugs to the baby who needed a caesarean 2 weeks earlier. They weighed her... 4.35kg/9lb10! Jesus! They were actually right! Shit! Would I have signed up to that drug-free had I known??? Probably, because I am a stubborn cow, but wow - I felt like superwoman!
As I came round, a young man, the medical student stood looking almost as gobsmacked as a first time dad - I hope he doesn't think that is the norm when it comes to childbirth! I was awake enough to watch Thomas cut the cord and hand me Baked, the still nameless child. For the next half hour the midwife tried to deliver the placenta which was proving much trickier than the baby and I was more than relieved when it finally came away. Baked was covered in meconium, which made me worry a bit, as I'd heard horror stories of babies inhaling meconium during birth but no one around me seemed to be panicking.
I went for my last bath in the post delivery bathroom in the QMH and felt vaguely sad knowing that no matter what the future holds, I will never be back there again and then joined Thomas in an attempt to finally whittle down the long-standing shortlist of names for the Baked Bean.

SPOOKILY UNCHANGED

I had a baby in the Queen Mum's on Monday. Of course, the press has been full of Queen Mum's stories all week because it was shutting down on Tuesday. Thomas spotted this story. Doesn't the setting looked eerily familiar despite the 46 year gap?

I had been ranting all last week about the QMH shutting and the possibility of being forced to hunt out the Southern General at a minute's notice while in labour, having never even visited anyone in that hospital, but now that the stress of last week is over, I have had time to reflect on why I wanted to make it to the QMH.

Obviously I had had all my kids there so I know the place inside out and many of the staff. I can find my way around in the dark! They had all my ante-natal notes, so of course it was sensible, but it was much more than that really.

Sentimentally, the QMH is the first memory I have in my life. I was taken up the green, buttercup-covered hill in a part of the city I didn't yet know but which was to become home 20 years later, one day in June 1971 carrying a toy lamb to visit my new baby brother. The weather was beautiful, the hill and flowers are so vivid, it could be yesterday. I remember the wards and beds. I remember being with my dad. In fact, ironically, the only two things I don't remember of that day are my mum and baby brother. I didn't want my first ever memory to shut down!

Then there are my own kids. I remember which room each one was born in and every minute of every labour. You don't want want those memories to shut down either.

After my first baby was born I joined the QMH breast-feeding group. We met every week, though none of us really needed the breast-feeding support, we all needed the moral support. I met Karen, Cynthia and Siobhan - friends for life... breast friends. We had more babies together, and more tea and cake. We've helped each other through the highs and lows of life ever since - all our divorces and new lives. That nostalgia was dying too with the QMH.

I realized after the dust of the last week's stress settled that what you need when you are having a baby is to feel at home because you are so vulnerable and the QMH to me was a kind of home - like a home-birth with all the trimmings - someone else to clean up and all the medical back-up you might need should your 10lb baby become stuck at birth. Even the revolting school dinners they served after you had the baby had a way of tasting acceptable in all their stodginess. My last meal there - of two wet beef burgers, heavy mash and over-boiled cabbage will live with me forever!

Shame on you whoever decided to close it :-( Now I will need to give serious consideration to calling a halt to my childbearing years!

And to celebrate the QMH years, here's a photo of Anna, who was born there and Amaia, one of the very last QMH babies leaving it together about 5 hours before they closed for good :-(

MOVING HOUSE

Léon had an appointment at Yorkhill on Friday morning. Of course, I had printed out photos of his latest spot and eczema problems and typed up notes for my parents to take with them, while Thomas and I were in the Queen Mum's having Baked... Funnily enough, Baked had other ideas (this is becoming a leitmotif) so Thomas and I managed to take Léon ourselves :-(
Leaving Yorkhill, we passed the Queen Mum's of course and had difficulty negotiating all the removal lorries parked outside, being filled with beds and chairs! This is becoming a nightmare. The hospital is now shutting in two days and is seemingly stripped of all furniture and Baked is still cosy inside. My last baby, when she decided to show up, only gave me a couple of hours to get to hospital, which was hard enough without icy snow, going to the hospital I know well. This time in labour (if we ever get there) we'll be scraping the car for half an hour and then trundling around the South Side to find a maternity unit we've never even visited, finding its car park and admissions department (assuming I can find their phone number). I guess we need to go on an expedition this afternoon to familiarize ourselves with the area despite the weather and advice not to go out driving unless necessary.
Obviously if I had had any inkling Baked would be late, I would have registered at the other hospital originally. It seemed sensible to book in to the hospital that holds all my gynecological notes, rather than hoping they'd be transferred during my pregnancy. Another friend who is having a baby at the new place has just waited nearly 5 months for her notes from a different Glasgow hospital to arrive on site! Ironically, I now find myself in a situation where my notes are stamped with all sorts of special indications including their worries about Baked's size, recommended caesareans, Anna's quick delivery, my age and rhesus status etc and the Queen Mum's will box them up for sending at some point on Tuesday when they close, and send them with everything else from the hospital. I don't reckon the chances of them having them are high from Wednesday :-( And believe me, at 10cm dilated with a 4.5 or 5kg baby you are in no fit state to sit down and fill them in on your gyno and previous delivery history for an hour during labour.
This is turning into a real trial for the nerves and I'm usually a calm person!

NO SHARED BIRTHDAY

When I told Lots I was pregnant back in the summer and that the baby was due on 09-01-10, her first comment was that I'd better not have it on her birthday (04-01). Charlotte had officially been due on 09-01-00, so I spent the next few months trying to warn her a shared birthday wasn't completely unlikely. Eventually when quizzed, it turned out she assumed that if Granny had £30 to spend on her birthday, she assumed that if Baked turned up on the 9th, Granny would already have spent the money on Charlotte, but if she turned up on the 4th they'd get £15 each. I tried in vain to point out that with Granny's forward planning, the chances were that whenever Baked was born, Granny was likely to shop for both presents on the same day, but Lots stuck to her guns - after the 4th was fine but on it was totally unacceptable. On the night of the 1st I almost went into labour. By the 3rd I decided the chances of Baked appearing on Lotsie's birthday were even greater than they'd been 6 months earlier so I spent the 3rd preparing Charlotte for the big share. I promised double cakes. I told her of future joint birthday parties as adults, especially given they'd share a round birthday. I told her of the fun of a joint 20th and 30th, even mentioning how thrilled our family friend Caragh had been, when Lots had been born on her 10th birthday. I suggested Baked, Lots and Caragh could potentially have joint a 20th, 30th and 40th party with lots of fun and presents. Charlotte was finally won round to the idea (even if I was yet to mention it to Caragh!) Also given Charlotte was born at 0.44 in the morning, she contented herself in the knowledge that her birthday would more than likely come first. Phew, mission accomplished... so I am looking a bit silly sitting here now at 23-39 on Lots' birthday with Baked still on the inside. I suppose I need to come up with a way of un-selling her the idea tomorrow after school...

BAKED IS NOW TAKING THE PISS :-(

So I woke up at 3-30am exactly with a twinge in the belly. A second one came at 3-45am and a third at 4am... I started trying to psych myself up for the long night ahead and found that surprisingly difficult compared to the previous times, I assume because of the threat of her size...
After 4am things got worse, with contractions at 4-11am, 4-21am, 4-31am, 4-42am, and 4-50am. I was lying still in bed hoping to be able to make it through to daybreak, given de-icing not only our car but also the grandparents' one so they could come and babysit in the middle of the night was no simple task on the coldest night of the year. Factoring in a potential hour of de-icing, remembering my hospital notes are stamped 'Previous precipitous delivery' and adding in colossal Baked's potential to become wedged in my pelvis, thus necessitating the dreaded section, I reluctantly turned round to waken Thomas at 5am. He was fast asleep and didn't respond. I tried again and caught a glimpse of the time... 5-03am... wait a minute, what happened to the 5am contraction? I lay still and watched the clock till 5-20am - nothing, not a sausage. Turning over had completely stopped everything. Back to square one and trying to unpsych myself, I finally fell asleep as the clock hit 6am :-(

THE MATHS OF THE BIG BUMP

And another thing while I'm ranting... I don't get the Maths...
The hospital told me on 2 December that the baby was 3.1kg. The hospital told me on 30 December the baby was 3.7kg. So she grew 600g in 28 days, or an average of 21.4g a day. I have ten days of my pregnancy remaining, supposedly, so I would estimate Baked's birthweight on 9 January to be 3.9kg, not 4.5kg. Can it really be that they expect her to grow at 80g a day from now on, ie four times more than she has grown in the last month????
What a load of nonsense!

THIS WEEK'S PREGNANCY UPDATE

On Sunday I went to Ikea for some shopping. I was finding walking harder and harder, feeling like a nerve at the top of my left leg was trapped under the weight of Baked. I concluded Baked had descended.
On Monday Thomas was massaging my belly and asked, somewhat surprised where Baked was hiding as she wasn't in her usual position under my left boob. We again assumed she was hiding somewhere in my pelvis.
On Tuesday my doctor confirmed Baked had indeed gone for a walk down below, so things were becoming slightly more imminent - at last phew!
Today I was booked into the hospital for another sizing scan. At my last hospital appointment nearly four weeks ago I had been assured that today would see us offered a plan of action if Baked was still an out-sized tot, so I was relieved to be facing the decision to be induced...
The scan of course confirmed that was indeed the case. Although the rate of growth had slowed marginally, they are still estimating a due-date weight of around 4.5kg (just short of 10lbs). They also showed me quite how low down she was and that she is no longer OP - way-hay!
I was sent round to talk to my consultant. A midwife took me into her room and explained she'd see me first. She looked at my notes and asked if I wanted to book my caesarean. I asked what the current size of my baby was and she told me she was approximately 3.7kg. Marcel and Léon were both 3.7kg (around 8lbs). Marcel was my first baby and I managed to have him at that weight. Léon was 3.7kg and OP, took 21 hours and I had him without any drugs and was back to normal three weeks later, so why on earth would I sign up for an elective section, knowing I could in theory go into labour tonight? I refused the caesarean. She looked surprised and examined me. She asked a second time if I wanted to book a section. I really am beginning to wonder what the issue is in that hospital with understanding the phrase 'No thank you, I'll pass on the caesarean'. One last time she suggested it, saying I could always book it and cancel it if I go into labour naturally, once again I declined. She stepped out and returned saying my consultant wasn't going to see me after all - I guess he was only interested in scheduling my section around his New Year holiday so if I was declining it I was not worth seeing. At least that spared me the effort of declining it a fourth time in half and hour!
As I prepared to leave, the midwife attempted scare tactics... If you go past your due date the hospital is closing down so I'll give you the number of the new place as you'll need to go there. We do let people go two weeks past their date you know...
Thomas asked about membrane sweeps and induction but was told they wouldn't do that yet... so they are willing to do a caesarean but not to induce me - curious - either she is ok to come out now or she isn't, and surely avoiding a potential emergency section two weeks after my due date must be in everyone's interest if she's already 3.7kg?
Anyway, I went home feeling rather deflated at the thought of potentially being allowed to remain pregnant and immobile until January 23rd, by which time I'll no doubt be forced into a section as she'll be pushing 6kg by then at this growth rate.
As a parting shot she did suggest red wine and vigorous sex... the main problem with that of course is that if I have the red wine, I'm likely to be in a coma long before the oldest kid goes to bed during the Xmas holidays so I'm not too sure how to fit the vigorous sex into the timetable. Ho hum...

BAKED

I'm beginning to think we must have been in an ironic mood when we adopted the nickname Baked... given how small baked beans are.
After October's discovery that Baked was possibly larger than we'd been expecting, I was dragged back in today for another growth scan to check how things had progressed over the last six weeks. I saw a sonographer, a midwife and a consultant, each for ten minutes so of course my appointment took 3 hours. Thank goodness Anna had gone to Granny's or she'd have been hysterical with boredom.
First we went for a scan. I am officially 34 weeks and four days pregnant at the moment (though by my reckoning, I am actually 34 weeks and three days). Baked was asleep, as she often is in the morning and lying in completely the wrong position for scanning. The sonographer checked her limbs and heartbeat and moaned a bit about her position and seemed to be about to give up when Baked turned to the screen yawned very clearly and moved over just enough for the diameter of her head to be measured. Figures popped up at the bottom of the screen saying the estimated gestation was 37 weeks and two days - ho hum... Then she moved again and the sonographer said she'd take a quick stomach diameter too. I waited with bated breath. The screen calculated 39 weeks and 2 days, and the foetal weight popped up at 3.15kg. Oh great! Lots was only 3.28kg at birth and even Marcel (the biggest) had only been 3.75kg.
I was sent round to the consultant with a new graph plotting Baked's expected birth weight to be 4.5kg (that's just shy of 10lbs for any imperial weirdos out there).
The consultant decided to check in the old fashioned manner... feeling my belly with his hands and confirmed he agreed with the technological findings of an hour earlier. His plan is therefore to have me back in on 30 December to check her size then (if he can fit her whole head on the screen to measure its size) and come up with a strategy. He also suggested an internal examination that day to determine whether or not to induce me. I just love internals. What a fun way to finish the year! If my cervix has started preparing for birth I will be induced then so she isn't allowed to grow beyond week 38. I thought I was doing well being on number five never having needed to be induced. I can tell New Year's day is going to be fun.
Of course, he then went on to explain that he doesn't know if my pelvis will cope with a baby more than 20% bigger than my norm, so will be left perhaps with a decision to opt for an emergency section if she gets stuck at the end of labour. Oh this pregnancy is just getting better and better... I thought I was doing well to get to number five never having needed a section. I haven't even had drugs since Marcel - I am planning a painful but bearable natural birth and am being thrown into inductions, sections and god knows what. I am not amused. Finally, he explained I will be granted an elective section if I want one. Aren't you listening to me???? I don't want any kind of section, I don't even want a bloody paracetamol. I want a normal, drug-free delivery. Time to sue the Dane and his big genes???
Oh and to top it all. Bloody Baked is currently (and has been for several weeks) OP into the bargain. I have already had two nightmarishly long, drug-free OPs and I could really do without that added hiccough. Grrrrr.
Anyway, I'm away to ADSA tomorrow to buy ingredients for a curry, raspberry tea and all the rest to start my own induction programme this weekend.

FOOD!

One of the things about pregnancy (and early breastfeeding, for that matter) is the change to your food requirements. I don't mean you like different tastes, I mean when you are late for a meal you feel faint. This isn't a gradual occurrence but an instant one. I have been trying to get up and work before breakfast the last few days. I am fine until about 9-15am, then I have a window of about five minutes to get to the cereal bowl before I fall over. When I am not pregnant, I can skip a meal with little more than a grumbly tum but not now.
So tomorrow's glucose testing is going to be fun. They want me to fast for 12 hours before a blood test. Following that they want to feed me only glasses of lucozade all morning at two hour intervals while taking several blood tests. I have a feeling that I am going to want punch someone by 11am. It is just as well I won't have the energy to!

ANTENATAL

Yesterday I went into QMH for what I expected to be my usual least favourite ante-natal appointment. At 28 weeks I usually get dragged in for a painful shot of anti-D because of my rhesus negative blood. I know I shouldn't complain given this disease wiped out all my aunts and uncles but it is bloody nippy :-( Anyway the midwife decided to quickly examine me while I was in and suddenly my 10 minute appointment stretched to a whole morning... Anna was not amused! My 'fundal height', which should have measured 28cm, turned out to be 34cm. I was assured it was probably excess fluid but sent off for an unscheduled scan which revealed 'Baked Bean' was more of a 'Broad Bean' and looking more like a five week older foetus. The woman radiographer said at least three times 'Wow this is a big baby' - too much info thanks! So I am being dragged in for a morning of glucose testing next week to see if I have developed (for the first time ever) gestational diabetes. My gut feeling, given my urine is clear, is that my morning of fasting and sugar shots is simply going to result in more wide-eyed proclamations of 'Wow, she's big!' but I may stand corrected. Bemoaning my situation today to a friend who is of the same stature as myself, she tried to reassure me that when her son was born three years ago, she was more than surprised to be told he weighed in at 9lb9 (4.4kg in real money) - hmmmm, I'm not sure that cheered me up, thank you!

OOPS!

About 7 weeks ago Thomas and I found out the sex of Baby Baked Bean as part of the chromosome analysis following our amnio. I asked my close friends if they wanted to know too and Karen jumped in (as she always does when I'm pregnant) with a big NO. Karen always wants to wait for the surprise and with both Léon and Anna that was possible (with the others I didn't know myself). This time was going to be trickier given how much more everyday blogging and facebook have become but I refrained from mentioning the baby on either and left Karen in the dark. Not telling Karen in person of course was going to be the easy bit, given she currently lives in Lancaster... piece of cake! Then Karen arranged to meet me for coffee on Saturday morning when she was up in Glasgow for a flying visit. Obviously bribing the two biggies to stay quiet would be easy - there's always something they want, and Anna wouldn't be hard either given that when she is asked if the baby is a girl or boy, she always replies in Danish. So Pudge was going to be the hard one. I tried to explain nicely on Friday night that he'd to keep it secret, he seemed to get it. I took Marcel and Charlotte aside and threatened them with torture and death if they released the cat from its bag. So, fingers crossed, there'd be no problem. Karen arrived with a lovely cake. I hadn't seen her since I got pregnant. I let her in, put on the coffee machine and she said: ' Wow, you're big, when IS the baby due? I don't think I know how pregnant you are', instantly I replied 'This is week 28, I'm due around the first week of January'. She then came back with 'my god you've already got Anna and Lots' birthdays that fortnight, that's not great timing' and I of course jumped in with 'Yeah all my girls will have birthdays within 2 weeks of each other...' She'd been in the house less than 3 minutes and the foot was in my mouth... D'OH!

A SORE HEAD

What is it with me and pregnancy? I seem to be more badly affected by headaches during pregnancy than anyone I know, particularly when I am having girls. Charlotte, of course, was the first though she'd probably deny having been a female foetus at any point. With her, things were so bad by 15 weeks that I was referred to a migraine specialist who prescribed some drugs I could start taking at around 20 or 22 weeks - that was a long month or two seeing double and waiting to see again :-( Anna was bad enough to warrant about eight paracetamol a day from week 15 to 30 but I tried to steer clearer of the other stuff that time. I'm now in my 17th week with 'Baked Bean' and again I've been maxing out on paracetamol for about three weeks now so I guess I need to discuss that with the doc again :-( I wonder if 'Baked Bean' will also turn out to be female?

CHILDBIRTH

5 mins old
Originally uploaded by PhylB

I have just been reading an interesting article about childbirth on the BBC. I sounds like things are a wee bit different down south but I believe everywhere has got it wrong. And childbirth is definitely something I know about! I have been considering the best way to approach it since I heard an American describe giving birth without epidural as 'doing it the old fashioned way'. In France too epidural is the norm - with it being taken for granted unless you ask to opt out. I feel having been through it every possible way (except caesarean) I am qualified to comment.

I have to agree with the first statement. Of course women go into childbirth the first time underestimating the pain they are about to suffer - that is because you can only describe that intensity of pain to someone who has already been through it, by which time it is too late to describe it to them - maybe someone who has fallen into a mincing machine and crawled out in time to be run over by a truck could just about get what you mean if you try to describe it, but failing that everyone is going to go into it first time round wearing rose-tinted specs and then panic.

Here in Glasgow what seems to happen is that they teach you relaxation methods and tell you about the pain relief available. That is to say they tell you you can get an epidural which will anaesthetize you, morphine which will take the 'edge' off the pain or a tens machine which they let you try. They make it sound sweet and idyllic - like it will be sore but as long as Mr Right is there holding your hand you'll be fine. I think in the back of their minds they assume that once the pain hits the mum-to-be will simply ask for one of the pain relief methods, probably epidural and they will hand it out with a knowing smile.

Anyway here's what I would do, if I was in charge. I would mention the relaxation methods because they definitely help when panic hits, if you have moral support. I would then send each mum-to-be home with a DVD of a real birth - and I don't mean 2 minutes in a taxi as you see on the likes of Eastenders - I mean an average 12 hour screaming, crying, yelling birth. I think as a woman looking into that stranger's eyes you would get a much more realistic view of what she is about to go through. I know some satellite channels show birth these days, but they only show you the last 10 minutes, (and from the side!) - so you have no idea of the hours of exhaustion that precede that point. That would be step one. The advantage to this method too would be that if you did go for pain relief, you certainly wouldn't feel like you had failed in any way, and neither would your partner if he watched it with you.

Step two would be to mention the pros and cons of each method of pain relief. I think telling you about them 4 weeks before birth rather than during birth would give you more time to think them through. I would say you can have an epidural but you could end up with pain in your lower back for a month every time you sit down, every time you sit against something. It will make you feel uncomfortable every time you breast feed for the first month but it does take away the contractions for the 8 hours it is in. I would mention you can't feel to push so you push exhaustedly until the forceps or ventouse are called for but again this interception won't be felt because you are anaesthetized. Of course, it will be felt for months afterwards if you need stitching because of the forceps. I would mention you can have urine problems after an epidural and need catheterised for 2 or 3 days. And that you can end up shaking all night after the effects wear off. I'd say that sex might make your eyes water for months because you have been sewn up so tightly but it does take away the pain for those 8 hours.

Then I would say morphine can make you feel nauseous, and claustrophobic and faint. I would mention it doesn't actually do anything other than skim the surface of the pain of childbirth but yes it too is available.

As for Tens machines - yeah they work for the first couple of hours when you think the pain is bad but by the time you reach the bit that is actually painful you can't feel the Tens machine, so yeah use it but don't believe it'll make things go swimmingly.

No we wouldn't have our teeth pulled with no anaesthetic because that hurts but if having them pulled without anaesthetic would mean you hurt a lot during the procedure but avoid 6 months of pain - would we maybe consider it? And as for dying - sure people die in childbirth but from the complications, not the pain!

As I went through about 20 hours of labour with Léon and about 4 with Anna I got through the pain by knowing that when it stopped, it would be over - the unbearable pain of childbirth just stops when they hit the bed - you know then you've made it. I would advocate natural child birth not because I like pain but because afterwards your world turns upside down, you don't sleep, you suffer exhaustion like you can't imagine so the last thing you need is more pain.

THE PREGNANCY HAS COME TO AN END!

Yes, I know you are thinking: Yeah we noticed that 82 days ago... but today I realized for sure the pregnancy hormones had disappeared. Naturally I have thin, greasy hair that needs washing about every 36 hours. When I am pregnant, I have thick, dry hair that I can leave for a week without it becoming greasy, if I so desire. I washed my hair on Thursday, and noticed yesterday it was limp and greasy already :-( Waaaaah - looks like the pregnancy is officially over.

LIFE'S A BORE!

Today Anna got to meet her Collins co-bump. Julie, from the Production (no pun intended) department was about 3.5 weeks behind me all through my pregnancy and from half way through we both knew we were having little girls, so we'd planned to meet up once we were both on the other side. I was in the middle of a photoshoot when wee Aimée yawned, instantly Anna, who was staring at her, caught her yawn - I didn't realize that was an instinct that started so early (Anna is 6 weeks old, Aimée 3). It was a very sweet sight. When I showed this photo to Carol, another dictionary co-worker, her reaction was to ask if we'd shown the girls a dictionary or something equally boring - funny!

BIRTH FROM MY PERSPECTIVE

I saw Thomas had blogged the birth right the way through from the triage farce to the arrival of Anna. I thought I'd leave myself a day or two to get over the shock before blogging the same from my perspective!
We'd had a bit of a fraught 3 days where I monitored every twinge, mainly because Thomas's parents had flown in to meet the baby so we so desperately didn't want their trip to be in vain... Anna had other plans however. Finally on Tuesday, the date I had calculated from my period to be my due date, Thomas came home from work and mentioned an ex-colleague, Elspeth, had suggested a massage between my thumb and forefinger would do the trick. Laughing, he held each of my hands and rubbed them for 30 seconds or maybe less. An hour later, I sat down on the couch to watch Gordon Ramsay and felt my waters break! Coincidence, I suspect! It was 7-30pm. I monitored contractions thereafter. They were mild and infrequent and by 10pm I figured labour wasn't going to start till morning.
In bed I felt them become stronger and didn't manage to sleep. After midnight I felt things were becoming more imminent so I woke Thomas and my dad at 1am. In the 20 or so minutes I waited on my parents to arrive to babysit the others, I had frequent, painful but short contractions so assumed the birth would be like Pudge's and mentally estimated it at 10am.
On arrival at triage, a fairly grumpy midwife confirmed I was only 1 to 2cm dilated and insisted I lie on a bed hooked up to 2 monitors, one measuring contractions, the other, the baby's heartbeat for half an hour. This was sheer torture. Anyone who has ever been in labour knows lying on your back is on a par with lying on a train track watching the virgin west coast intercity hurtling towards you. Unable to lie still I watched these monitors slip all around my belly, not registering any of the contractions while the grumpy midwife waited next door, popping in flippantly declaring from time to time that I wasn't really contracting much... if I'd been within reach of a machete, Derek would have been defending me in court next week! Not bloody contracting? I was contracting every 3 or 4 minutes for a minute or more. Worse still the baby heart monitor was also slipping about, not registering, so looking like the baby was asleep, therefore confirming to the numpty nurse that my baby wasn't even noticing the contractions and therefore that I wasn't really in labour yet. She suggested returning home or sleeping overnight in an all-female ward while waiting for labour to start. I had been unable to sit in dad's car on the way in at 1-30, so I sure wasn't going to sit in a taxi back then in my dad's car again the following morning at rush hour. I also didn't believe I wasn't in labour as I couldn't stand, walk, sit, lie and was in excruciating pain. I quite believed it would take all night as I have always had 20 hour labours but I knew I was already in advanced labour.
We reluctantly opted for the women's ward. I was quite annoyed given the triage ward with its 3 or 4 beds was completely empty and Thomas was allowed there. He went out to reception, I went next door to another empty ward and they left me beside a hospital bed that was up as high as it could go in a room where all the chairs were at the other side of the room. I was in too much pain to try to adjust the bed, I was in too much pain to cross the room to get a chair. Between the next 2 or 3 contractions, I slowly crossed the room and walked a chair back, unable to lift it. I had been abandoned so couldn't ask for help. I sat down on the chair backwards leaning on the back and waited maybe another 15 minutes. I felt desperately sick and started to reanalyse my birth plan request for no morphine. Morphine makes me sick so I didn't want it but figuring I already felt like vomiting and potentially had another 8 hours ahead alone, I decided to attempt to cross the room to the buzzer and ask the midwife's opinion. It took ten minutes to walk the 10 paces to the buzzer. A new midwife arrived nonchalantly on the scene. I started to explain I was considering morphine for those reasons when I felt a great deal of pressure in my bottom. The midwife looked panicked and asked me to quickly jump on the bed for an internal because I wasn't acting like the 1cm dilated patient they had been told to expect and had been ignoring assuming she was tucked up in bed for the night.
She helped me on to the bed and put her fingers into me. I'm so sorry, she told me - I assumed that was to be followed by - you are still only 2cm dilated but in fact it was followed by: you shouldn't be here, you should be upstairs, you are nearly 7cm dilated and if you have dilated that far in half an hour you must be in terrible pain! I cancelled the morphine, realizing the degree of pain was actually in keeping with the degree of labour... and I wished once more for a machete..
Buzzers were pressed, wheelchairs ordered, Thomas found and we ran to the lifts to get me upstairs in a record 5 minutes. Within 10 minutes of arriving upstairs, I was fully dilated and ready to start the pushing phase. I remember little of the next 15 minutes. I know there were foetal heart problems and I was made to turn round while a monitor was fitted. I know I was given oxygen and it ran out which felt like someone was strangling me, so I had to scream at them twice that the tank was empty before they heard.
Finally I felt her head pop out about 30 minutes after arriving upstairs. The nurse, this one was lovely, as was the 2nd one, started to tell me not to push her out till the next contraction, but as I felt her shoot across the bed, simply fell silent. The heart problems, it turned out, were caused by the cord being wrapped around her neck.
Thomas tells me he cut the cord but to be honest, I was only vaguely aware of that, as I was still shaking in shock on the bed slowly coming to terms with going through 10 hours of labour in slightly more than 1h30!
I think they felt guilty at the cock-up because the usual 1 hour you get to spend together postnatally in delivery eating toast went on from 4-24am to 7am, in this case, leaving me time for a bath, some extra toast and also the loss of several scarily large bloodclots.

INTERESTING TIMING

After mentioning a few days ago that I'd have a comment to make if the baby should turn up on the due date predicted by my period rather than by my scan - well she did neither but my waters did break on the 18th...

A QUOTE

Saw this last week - I thought I'd share it with you:

If pregnancy were a book, the editor would probably cut the last 2 chapters...

I can relate to that, in fact now I am past the end of the last chapter, I am beginning to wonder what the editor would do with the epilogue!

TATTERED REPUTATION

This baby has my reputation in tatters - I have never got beyond week 39+ before and here I am sitting 1 day overdue with no more twinges or contractions than I was having back on November 30th. Now, I can think of two reasons: Is it the different genetic make-up that is causing this or is it the so-called advances in medicine? I mean all my other due dates were based on my last menstrual period plus 40 weeks, but this one was originally given to me as December 18th but changed to December 14th once scan measurements were taken, the hospital claiming that scans were much more accurate than the human menstrual cycle... If she does happen to turn up Tuesday, I know what I'll be saying about scans but that'll be cold comfort to Thomas's parents who flew in yesterday for 3 days to meet someone who, for now, is still cosily tucked up on my insides! Will attempt one last curry and raspberry tea tonight for their benefit but I don't hold out much hope :-(

Hope this posting answers the flood of email arriving in my inbox daily, entitled: 'You still here?'