Everyone Loves A Gory Birth Story, Right?

So you're here for a 

gory, horror birth story, eh?

Got a hankering for a tale filled with rusty forceps, bloody episiotomies and ruptured uteruses?

Then click here, you sick b*stards.

Now,

without further adieu 

I give you the birth story of baby number 5 - a tale also known as

Gold Coast Hospital Sucks.

So as I mentioned in the previous post,

 the husband was out gallivanting with his mates and I was ready to hit the hay.

Last thought as I rolled into bed...

"I just need ONE night of really good sleep and then that baby can come out..."

Famous last words.

Cue contractions.

Of course.

Only little ones.  

That could also just have been a stomach ache from the WHOLE box of Ferrero Rochers that accidently fell into my gob after dinner

so

 I lay in bed, toying with the idea of getting up

but not really being fazed either way.

The husband stumbled

in from his night out at 10.30

and I let him snore for about 3 minutes before he got the tap on the shoulder.

The tap all men who've experienced the joy of childbirth dread.

The tap that implies

'I may be calm now, but in a few hours I'll be tearing you a new one as your child tears me a new one'.

An hour later,

with contractions about 6 minutes apart but still really mild,

I thought I'd be polite and give the hospital a heads up that I'd be coming in.

Which I normally don't do until I'm ready to leave, but I thought what the heck, it'll give me something to do.

So I dialled the number to the delivery suite and the phone rang.

And rang.

And rang.

Cue funny joke to the husband that the hospital staff must all be pissing up at the tribute he'd just come home from.

So I tried again.

And it rang.

And rang.

Finally, somebody answered.

I gave her my details and told her I'd be coming into the ward in a few hours.

"Errr, no you can't." she replied.  

Muffled screaming in the background. 

"[Can someone shut that door?] We're full so you'll have to go somewhere else."

"So you want me to have it right here on the kitchen floor?" 

I laughed.

She didn't.

"We have no staff or beds here, we can't take you and you'll have to go somewhere else."  

So in between contractions, my good humour evaporated.

The hospital that had made me come in two, sometimes three times a week for antenatal visits, pointless testing and general time wasting,

who were afraid I was carrying a GIANT of a baby that was going to rip me open when it slid out

was 

now

too damn busy 

to

actually deliver the baby.

The phone was thrown at the husband

and I went to cry in the toilet.

I could hear him trying to have a 'polite' conversation with the moron on the end of the phone.

Later he told me that she'd said 

"If you have a problem with the situation GO TO THE MEDIA." 

Seriously.

Does the Gold Coast Bulletin have a delivery suite I didn't know about???

Gold Coast Hospital, you suck.

He was given the phone number to Logan Hospital and told to try there.

I cried in the toilet.

Then started bleeding.

Scary, red blood.

Logan told us to get there as quickly as we could

(which the husband took quite literally and had a Fast and The Furious moment doing 140km down the whole highway)

The staff took one look at my miserable face and set me up in the delivery room.

I was about 4cm dilated and with each contraction I continued to bleed.

A doctor examined me, broke my waters and decided to stay.

Not a great sign.

Another midwife came in to keep an eye on me.

There was talk of ruptured placentas etc.

The husband was banished to a corner of the room and told not to talk or look at me.

By me.

I was scared.

I said no to drugs because they make me want to vomit.

I vomited anyway.

I've done this child birth thing 4 times now -

 I managed the labours drug free, retained my sanity and composure through out and emerged from the births fairly unscathed.

This time it hurt.

Really f*cking hurt.

Fear can really screw with your mind.

Lots of staff in a delivery room = problem.

Nobody says anything to the person dying on the bed, they just whisper amongst themselves.

The baby's heart rate suddenly dropped,

the doctor freaked out and flipped me onto my side to try and find a better position for the baby.

I may have have begged them to just cut that bloody baby out and get it over and done with.

The baby's heart rate went back up and so I was made to labour on my side.

Which hurt.

A lot.

Cue REALLY LOUD MOANING to try and channel the pain.

I apologise to anyone who had to listen my yodeling.

I wish I could have yelled funny things like

"OWWWW my BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUM"

like the lady down the hall.  

Maybe next time.

Anyway, after hours and hours of agony

(okay, I exaggerate, I was on that bed for about 2 hours)

I was ready to die,

sick of pushing every time I had a contraction just to try and ease the pain

(even though they hadn't said to push)

sick of people looking at me,

sick of the silence

(which made my moaning even louder and more embarrassing)

sick of seeing my crappy hair dye job in the mirror

(note to self - ash blonde means grey you cheap skate, stop buying it just because it's on special)

sick of not knowing when it would be over...

when all of a sudden I felt something akin to a bowling ball moving in my pelvis

"Here's the baby now, you're going to feel a sting..."

Cue the burning ring of fire

and

whoosh

GOOD GOLLY 

MISS HOLLY

popped out.

Perfectly healthy, completely unfazed by the whole bloody ordeal.

Born at 3.23am weighing 3.91kgs.

Pink disposable delivery gown was a prezzie from Pretty Pushers. 

Very relieved doctors shuffled off to their next patient, while my midwife Sammy amused herself.

As soon as that baby was out, I came back to life and we all

had a good bitch 

at 

how hopeless Gold Coast Hospital was.

The husband is still traumatised by the whole thing.

Good.

So that was the wee hours of Thursday morning.

It's now Saturday and time to share my first piccies of the latest addition,

our little Logan Bogan,

to our family.

Introducing

Holly Eden

born

12/01/12 weighing 3.91kgs.

Divine little baby, very mellow and loved to bits by everyone already.

I feel great.
Nothing hurts, I'm a bit tired and I STILL HAVE CANKLES goddammit
but otherwise,

despite the birth
(thinking I was going to die blah blah blah)
I feel really good and very happy.


And yes, I'm amusing myself sticking bows and other girly stuff into her fabulous hair.