The Captain's Birth Story

I have been meaning to write this for ages and was finally urged to do so by my lovely friend Bec, as she wants to include it in her soon to be published book!


The 20th of October 2005.

I never expected that I would arrive at the hospital ready to birth my first born with my perfectly straightened hair and neatly packed overnight bags in a calm unhurried manner and announce to the lady at the entrance desk, “I am Prof’s 3pm cesar….’

I always imagined a dramatic trip to the hospital; a panicky husband speeding through red lights and me in slight discomfort but reciting mantras and calmly reassuring panicky husband that all would be fine. For some reason I had even pictured my waters breaking in the middle of the kitchen floor. I would have been in the throes of cooking something delicious and nourishing. The reality of Nicholas’ birth is quite different to how I imagined it to be though.
I was 31 weeks pregnant and had a standard antenatal appointment at which it was discovered my blood pressure had suddenly shot up. I felt fabulous, I was glowing with health and couldn’t believe it when I was being rushed off to have blood tests, all day fetal monitoring and chats about pre-eclampsia. I was also booked in for an ultrasound to check the baby’s growth and the state of the placenta. The sonographer performing the ultrasound immediately said to me “my your baby has a lot of hair” and then she looked over my enormous belly at me and asked “did you know the baby is breech?”

I left the hospital that day 5 hours later. Pregnancy so far had been an absolute breeze and suddenly after one little blood pressure reading everything seemed to have changed. I was to report to the hospital twice a week for monitoring and encouraged to investigate natural ways of getting the baby to turn. We had always cheerfully called the baby “naughty baby.” As I drove home from the hospital, inwardly lecturing the naughty baby on his naughtiness, I vaguely remembered some parenting book warning against labeling your children. The book had pointed out that they would invariably live up to your label. Alarmed, I started to think of new nicknames for the baby and decided to re-read all the parenting books again. Clearly, we were not off to a good start with this parenting caper as our baby in utero was already defying us by refusing to flip over (as intended by nature) and remaining obstinately upright. My husband decided that the baby was brilliant. He believed that baby’s choice to remain the wrong way round was in fact an early indication of genius, as the baby had obviously realized that the rest of us were also upright and not floating about upside down in amniotic fluid.
Over the next 6 weeks my blood pressure steadily rose and the baby did actually attempt to roll over but seemed to have got stuck. At 38 weeks my blood pressure was 190 over 110. This is dangerously high. The OB decided that was that, the baby was coming out and as he was refusing to get into the right position or was unable to, he would have to be removed manually. As the OB was running through the procedure for Cesarean births to me I was sort of paying attention but on another level I was inwardly cheering. I had noted that the day the OB had picked for the cesarean, two days time, meant that the baby would be a Libra, not a Scorpio. I had always wanted a Libra baby! At the back of my mind part of me was also thinking… no this is not what I imagined at all. My imagination however is notoriously mistaken when it comes to the nitty gritty though and so yet another part of me was thinking… "unreal, I don’t have to go through hours of horrendous pain and panting to get the baby out, hurray!”

Thus two days later, during which I could not sleep, concentrate or indeed focus on anything but the fact that I would shortly be meeting my precious new baby, I turned up at the hospital with freshly blow dried hair, (I thought it would be important to look nice for the baby in the photographs afterwards…) and my bags. I was so excited about it all being over shortly and so fed up with the constant monitoring of the pre-eclampsia that I hardly had the opportunity to feel nervous about the cesarean. As the anaesthetist was sticking a needle the size of a knitting needle into my spine I had a few moments of panic but then felt quite relaxed (probably the drugs freely flowing up my spine). I even had the presence of mind to take some incriminating photos of my husband in his hospital scrubs and shower cap.

The surgery probably only took about 30 minutes but it seemed like forever. I can remember looking up into the theatre lights that were made from very shiny stainless steel and I could see a hazy reflection of myself lying on the table, my husband and the anaesthetist sitting at my head and the OB and his assistant on the other side of the curtain bent over my body. They seemed to be taking such a long time that I started to seriously panic and asked if the baby was ok. “Everything is fine” the OB said “but I can’t get the baby out of you”. Apparently my extremely obstinate baby was still refusing to leave the womb despite the OB having opened up an exit route for it. R stood up and looked over the curtain and as he sat back down I thought he might have been about to pass out. Afterwards he told me that he now understands why they put the curtain up and that is all he had to say about what he saw.
After what felt like an age, but wasn’t more than 20 minutes they managed to evict Nicholas from the womb. He was immediately held up for me to see and the OB announced “you have a son”. “I knew he was a boy” I shouted and then burst into tears. The midwife wiped all the vernix off him, wrapped him up snugly in a blanket and then carried him over to me. She held him close to my face so that I could see him properly. He was perfect, I truly thought that he was the most beautiful baby that I had ever seen. I was then told that it was time for me to go to recovery and that Nicholas needed to be checked over by the peadiatrician. As they wheeled me out of the theatre I shouted back at R, “do NOT let him out of your sight!”
I was in recovery for half an hour or so and in this time I discovered that I could wiggle my toes. It was remarkable how quickly the feeling returned to my body and I actually felt fabulous. I am not sure after a cesarean birth if you still get a huge endorphin rush but as I lay in recovery I felt like I could take on the world. Thinking about it now it was probably the shot of pethidine the anaesthetist had given me that made me feel so euphoric, as the reality was that I had just been sliced open and was immobile from the arm pits down, but I like to think that it was an endorphin rush of sorts that made me feel so spectacular.

I was wheeled up to the ward and as they pushed me along the corridor I was wheeled straight past R who was sitting outside the nurses station. He was holding Nicholas and there were tears streaming down his face. It was a magical moment for me and one that might never have happened if I had not had the cesarean.

I was in hospital for just under a week and actually recovered very quickly. After that initial shot of pethadine I only needed panadol and I was up and about in less than 24 hours. For the few days that I was in hospital I spent my time feeling terribly clever, many hours were also spent gazing admiringly at my perfect baby. I even struggled to sleep at night because I just couldn’t stop looking at him and admiring his perfectness. I examined every little bit of him, each tiny fingernail and eyelash. I am mortified to admit that I even wandered around the hospital feeling sorry for all the other women with babies that were not nearly as beautiful as Nicholas. I have since discovered that all new mothers do this and now when I look back at the photos I see a lovely little baby (but not the Botticelli angel I thought he was) and an exhausted mother who despite her best efforts on the day still ended up with bad hair in the photos.

The first trimester

In the past when I day dreamed about being pregnant I had always imagined that I would breeze through, with no complications and I could even visualise myself waltzing about radiant with health and looking glamourous in floaty dresses. The reality was very different...On the nausea front morning sickness was mostly absent so I can't complain too much, however it never occurred to me that I might BLEED through most of my pregnancy. It was frightening. My whole life has been pretty much geared towards being a mother. I have never been particularly ambitious or career focused and really just wanted to have a family (well, and have fun, I can't pretend that the hedonistic years of partying through my twenties didn't happen!!!). So the reality of a pregnancy that was fraught with complications and lengthy episodes of bleeding was devastating. It was as though my much longed for baby was trickling away and there was NOTHING that I could do about it. Every time I found blood on my knickers or on the toilet paper I would go into a tail spin making Doctor's appointments and booking ultrasounds. For some reason I felt that if I got to a doctor really quickly they might be able to prevent my beautiful baby from leaving me. The faith that I have in the medical profession is extraordinary and completely unjustified. (Bloody hell, my uncle is an OB and I constantly wonder how on earth he got through medical school. If he can anyone can. That is another story though.) I became obsessive about checking for blood. Even when I got up to go the loo in the middle of the night I would be squinting in the dark at the toilet paper trying to work out if there was blood. (Never buy patterned toilet paper when you are pregnant!) Each time it happened I would race off to the OB/hospital/ultrasound place wherever I could get an appointment. The tears of relief each time I saw that lovely little flashing light that represented the heart beating and the gorgeous chug chug chug noise it makes would fill me with joy. It was like the babywas chanting to me "I think I can, I think I can..." like the little engine that could. As I am writing this retrospectively and knowing you now and the place that you hold in my heart the thought that you might not be here makes my heart chill and fills me with fear. Nicholas you were meant to be a part of this world and I am so glad that we made it through those dreadful bleeding episodes together.

Home... sweet, home!

I can't even begin to articulate how happy we were to be home. The first thing I did was ring my lovely GP and make an appointment. I simply could not wait to find out about hospitals, obstetricians, pregnancy vitamins and all the other exciting things that would now be a part of my life. I then rang work and announced that I would be taking some time off. I was very reluctant to fly during the first trimester. I knew that flying occasionally during early pregnancy was fine but didn't want to risk flying everyday. The baby's long term health was of the utmost importance to me and I didn't want to take any risks by exposing the baby to unneccessary radiation in the air. (Especially considering the considerable stress that I had already experienced).Amazingly I was able to see Claudia the day we flew back in and she did yet another HPT (still positive - hurray!) and then took about 6 vials of blood and sent me off to have a dating ultrasound. The ultraound was amazing. The sonographer pointed out the little heart beat flashing away on the screen and the yolk sac that you were safely cocooned in. I was fascinated to see the little heart pumping away. It validated the baby's existence for me I guess. In those early days/weeks of pregnancy before you have a bump or any other obvious pregnancy symptoms it sometimes feels as though you have made it all up. I was thrilled to discover that there really was a baby in there!

Krabi

We left Cambodia and it’s lovely people (well in Siem Reap anyway) after a fabulous afternoon hanging out at the Foreign Correspondent’s Club. Where we spent the afternoon lazily watching the river traffic pass by along the Mekong and the frantic chaos of the streets below. We were also able catch up on the international newspapers and explore the art museum next door before we flew back to Thailand that evening. Thai Airways even managed not to lose our bags or force us to run through airports so I foolishly thought that things were starting to look up! The next day we flew to Krabi (again no incident with Thai Air!) and our hotel was absolute tropical opulence, I was beside myself with glee! We spent the day down at the pool and on the beach. It was the most wonderful day. I lounged by the pool and on the beach reading a trashy chick lit book that I borrowed from the hotel library, whilst Ross went for a walk exploring the length of the beach. He was gone for hours. We then swam in the ocean with the hotel’s baby elephant “Lala." After that glorious day by the pool and on the beach we had a fabulous seafood dinner at a restaurant tucked in amongst the palm trees along the beach a couple of hundred metres from the hotel .We looked out at the "James Bond islands" poking out from the ocean and watched the sunset whilst eating the most delicious meal. We were both so relaxed and happy, (although we had some fabulous meals at the Soup Dragon in Siem Reap), it was just all so easy after Cambodia. We made plans with a local boat owner to go out in the morning for a tour of the islands and a snorkel and then went back to the hotel to the outdoor cinema where we relaxed in hammocks and the staff wrapped us in warm towels and fed us ice creams whilst we watched a movie. Yes – that is what this hotel was like which is why I couldn’t believe what happened the next morning…

Tong le Sap

Sunrise over a floating village on the Tong Le Sap

On our last day in Cambodia we caught a boat up the river from Siem Reap to Pnomh Penh, where I was conceived and spent the first few months of my life. The boat journey was quite long and I spent the time day dreaming about being pregnant. We left our hostel very early that morning and got a bus to the river where we were to catch the boat. As it was the dry season, we first boarded a small fishing boat at the jetty point that was to take us out to the floating village. From the village we would then board a bigger boat that would transport us to Pnomh Penh. The floating village was indeed unique. A traditional Cambodian village but floating on the water, complete with shop houses and a school. We even passed school children in crisp white starched shirts and navy shorts on various assorted water craft (I use the term loosely) making their way to a floating school. When we got to the big boat there were small children on the floating wharf (in the middle of what appeared to be an inland sea), selling the most delicious fresh French loaves, plastic cheese triangles (????), bananas and bottles of water. I suggested to Ross that we should buy some supplies as we did not know how long the journey was going to be. He declined, fortunately I decided to get myself some snacks as the journey took the whole day. When we saw the boat and realized that there was only the one boat and a tonne of people, I reminded Ross of Maria (Veronica’s Mum’s) suggestion that we jump on to the roof of the boat. Very sound advice. We were the first people to climb up onto the roof of the boat and I am so glad that we did. For those sitting inside, the tin shed like cabin would have been similar to sitting inside an oven (or coffin…). We were on that boat for 9 hours in the full sun (which was doubly strong reflecting back off the water onto us). At least on top of the boat we had fresh air, although we had no shade. Fortunately Ross and I both had hats and sunblock, even so we both still got horribly sunburnt and dehydrated. The other reason why it was great advice to sit on top of that boat was for safety. The boat was easily carrying more than ten times the recommended amount of passengers. If it suddenly sunk in the middle of our journey at least on top we would have had some chance of survival. I doubt that there were any lifejackets on that boat though and for most of the journey I was unable to see land on any horizon, so I would not have liked to hazard our chances of survival. Once we finally left the emptiness of traveling across the giant lake we started to make our way along the river where we were able to gaze at life along the riverbank. Many small children waved at us as we passed and we saw temples, more floating villages, fishermen and also the police. When we passed the police boat we witnessed an exchange of third world corruption first hand. A deck hand on our boat tossed a plastic water bottle full of wads of cash over to the police boat – in front of everyone. Corruption for all to see!

Cambodia

We continued our honeymoon in Cambodia exploring the temples of the Angkor Wat complex. Truly amazing. Although the site is famous for the Angkor Wat temple I found the most extraordinary temples to be Ta Prohm and Bayon . At Bayon I truly felt like I was walking amongst the Gods. At every angle there is a serene face glancing benignly towards you. Ta Prohm was incredible for it’s crumbling splendour. Huge trees growing out of the temple ruins with roots climbing over walls and floors, creating an environment that was part peaceful temple and part deepest jungle. It literally was straight out of a movie, they filmed scenes from Tomb Raider at Ta Prohm. Huot, our guide, told us that when they first found Ta Prohm the backpackers would camp amongst the ruins. The only noise disturbing the serene peace of the temples the endless chatter of mischevious monkeys who had made their homes amongst the walls of the temples. Just like in the Jungle Book! That would have been an incredible experience, although I believe we were very lucky to walk amongst the ruins the way that we did. It will not be long before that luxury is prevented in order to protect the temples from thieves and from general damage from tourists. Whilst exploring the Angkor Wat temple, we were climbing the stairs to the upper tier of the temple, which were extremely steep, and suddenly I had a mild panic attack half way up. I questioned what I was doing, could I be putting the baby in danger? I was so concerned that I immediately reversed back down the stairs, clinging on to the temple structure like a crab, fearing that I would fall and hurt the baby somehow! I then found a side up the temple that included a rope (provided to assist elderly American tourists) and used that to get up to where Ross and Huot were patiently waiting for me!

Bangkok (forget that hostel from the beach...)

Ross is taking over all responsibility for booking accommodation on any future holidays...Embarassingly, I had not booked any accommodation in Bangkok… Ross was furious with me when we were walking down Khao San Road at 2 0’clock in the morning with our backpacks trying to find somewhere to stay! Looking back now, I am not quite sure what I was thinking (as the same thing had happened to me last time I went to Bangkok with Veronica, less than 4 months ago too, hmmm can’t believe that I am sharing this information with everyone!) We finally found a hostel that had two single beds. (Perfect for a honeymooning couple). I was starting to be furious with myself by this time. I couldn’t believe that I might be jeopardizing the health of my baby. I had responsibilities now! I was trying to be positive and seeing the entire event as quite humorous and in keeping with my desire to be spontaneous and my hatred of travel agents and itinerarys. Ross was not sharing this enthusiasm however and mine was certainly starting to wane by the time we finally found somewhere to sleep. Well “somewhere” was horrible. Imagine the worst flea bitten, filthy third world backpacker joint you can and there you go…that’s where Ross and I spent the first night of our honeymoon and my first night knowing I was pregnant. I kept putting my hand on my stomach as if to reassure you that it was all going to be okay. We hardly slept that night and we both slept fully clothed. In retrospect it is quite funny (now) actually!