12 years a mum - My birth stories - 2

 

FYI: This is nothing like my last post; this actually was the easiest birthing experience for me.

Pregnancy with R2 wasn’t bad, all my pregnancies are actually fuss free, and cravings free. 

I was out of the country, while pregnant, I was juggling my Msc. Programme in London, came for internship in Nigeria, travelling to & fro Nigeria. I returned back to England, just as I entered my 3rd trimester. I was fine but felt like he zapped my brain juice because I remember getting my dearest Rele, to study for us both, and then do revision with me, at some point, I had to defer submission of my dissertation. Also, I had sciatica, a word I didn’t know till then. I often had this surging pain that shot down my leg; good thing it was nothing meds couldn’t take care of.  https://www.webmd.com/back-pain/guide/sciatica-symptoms#1

A LITTLE HUMOUR

Closer to my delivery, my MIL came to support. Just like my 1st pregnancy where she nicely made sure we took daily walks. The day she arrived, she suggested we should start our daily walk next day; in my head, I am like 🤔 in cold February weather? Okay, sure Mama 😁.

Next day, as evening drew close, she said oya let’s take a walk, we both grabbed our jackets, head warmers and gloves and headed out, of course we were welcomed by the cold as we left the building, no biggies, she said walking will warm us up, I didn’t argue. Anyways, we had barely walked 10 minutes, when she said “Wo, otutu eleyi ti poju, eyan o le rin irun irin yi nibi, 😂 (look this cold is unbearable, we can’t be taking random walks in this cold) and asked that we return home. Safe to say, that’s how we cancelled pregnancy walk, because London and Lagos weather are not mates 😂😂. 

Pregnancy was a cruise, so much so I didn’t visit the hospital, aside GP till about my 8^th month, during the check up, I had a 3D scan and it was surreal, I saw R2’s face all so clearly. I saw his face clearly and knew immediately he looked nothing like me (2:0 in favour of hubby)

PS: I am not too familiar with the terms used for medical personnel abroad, so I might use them wrongly.

 My next appointment, I was told I would be having another CS! Oh oh!  The doctor a white man told me, that based on my history, they will not be taking any chances, explaining XYZ, the consent I will be signing etc., he asked that I come prepared the next day for the “elective” section (I was thinking how is it elective, when they told me they can’t take chances of uterine rupture🙄 🤷🏼♀️).

Again, I asked if we could wait a little more. The man nicely told me to hold on, and handed me over to a midwife (dark skinned) to put me through the ropes 😂. I reckon in his mind, he felt, please come and talk to your people, the Jamaican woman was nice enough to explain again; but you see my coconut head still wanted to suffer labour pains; I begged her to let’s wait for another day. Mind you, my EDD was the next day. The woman came to a compromise, she decided to give me a membrane sweep, that if I am lucky enough it helps to trigger labour, cool but if nothing happens overnight, they expect me at the hospital by 8am for my surgery.  Membrane sweep done, I went back home, full of hopes, hoping and hoping; nothing happened 😟.

D-DAY

11th March, I woke up to the realization that again, I will not be experiencing what labour feels like. MIL wanted to come with, but someone had to mind R1 at home, so she stayed back while hubby and I went, to the hospital. Unlike in Nigeria, where hubby had to sign the consent form, I was made to read, understand and confirm clearly all I had been told before, about the risks involved etc. and then sign. 

Hubby was allowed in the operating theatre, though a screen was put around my chest which blocks his view of what’s going on, but there was some mirror like panel over the team that gave him a decent view. 

I was given the regular jab on the spine, and just as they were about proceeding, I started feeling dizzy and felt like I was slipping into oblivion. Luckily I spoke up immediately, and as I didn’t know what was being said, I heard some talk and movements, and next thing I was placed on oxygen, stabilized and they proceeded with it. I was on oxygen throughout the procedure. 

Hubby was right by my side through it all, holding my hand/shoulder, talking to me, giving me updates from the panel and most likely praying silently. 

I heard them say I had a beautiful scar (yay! to Dr. E back in Nigeria & my good skin); I also heard them say “oh he has a beautiful head of hair”, just before they brought R2 out. I don’t remember much again, till I was wheeled to recovery room. 

DELIGHTFUL SHOCK

After about 15 minutes or less in recovery, a lady asked me “care for some toast”? Me 😳🥱wait what? I can eat? Of course I care for some toast. That’s how barely hours after my surgery I ate toast. (Naija Drs. see your mates)

The Jamaican woman I spoke to pre-surgery told me, it’s a good thing they didn’t take a chance on delivery, she said my uterus wall was so thin, they could see the baby’s head before the uterus was cut open, or something along the line 😳.  (Thank God they didn’t listen to me). She also said, P.S I could only have no more than 1 more go at pregnancy. 

I don’t remember how long I stayed in recovery, before being moved to a ward but I remember MIL came visiting that day, having learnt that I am allowed to eat brought me a hot cooler of my favorite: Indomie. She said, left to her she would have made something else, but she knows how much I love Indomie, she also apologized incase it’s not the way I like it. Bless that gem for me God! 

ANOTHER SHOCK

Unlike in Nigeria, my ward wasn’t private; we were about 4/6 in the spacious ward, which meant family couldn’t stay 24-7. I saw some 2 ladies walking about and I was told they had their surgery the day before. In my head I was like yeah, that can’t be me.

All through the day, the baby (R2) was kept in a crib near me, he wasn’t allowed to sleep on my bed, so I had to use the call button for the staff to hand me the baby. R2 came with quite the large appetite, so this very lovely matronly lady had to make countless trips to my bedside to pick up and dropped. She named him “Hungry Henry” she was quite warm; came night time, her replacement was a young girl who wore her displeasure on her face every time she had to pick or drop him. At some point, I kuku kept R2 beside me and slept off. She complained about me keeping me by the bedside but I couldn’t be bothered. 

NEXT DAY

All was good, but I was told I had to walk to the bathroom and around. I said no way. Never mind that Stakike and Akands (my able support systems) had prepped me and told me all I needed to know about this experience. I thought I was going to die if I walked; but I guess that was the price to pay. “She who ate toast on day of surgery, must walk the next day & be discharged on day 3”. 

Somehow I walked, still don’t know how but I survived, and got discharged the next day. Back home and the health visitor came checking after some days. 

NAMING EVENT

Naming was quite a private affair, 

Imams came did their thing and left; then we had close family, some of my course-mates and hubby’s colleagues come over. Both held in our living room. It was good a simple affair and I enjoyed seeing everyone. That’s me, 100% a people person.

MY GEM

MIL was exceptional as usual. For weeks, she’d bath baby and myself; doing all we could to ensure my scar didn’t get infected. 

HEALTH VISITOR

Bless the UK health system; they were countless health checks from days after the birth to weeks and then periodic home checks on mother and child; and sibling too. I remember the 1st time the health visitor came, she asked R1 to show her his room and went with him to “interview” him to be sure he’s doing well and not being abused in any form. She noted in his report, the environment was conducive and he’s a happy child etc. The periodic visit went on for as long as I can remember before we relocated back to Nigeria. 

Well, that’s about all about the most peaceful, drama and complication-free delivery I ever had. 

As for R3!!!! You will need to grab your popcorn, and drinks; that is the real story to be told; hopefully I don’t get emotional and stop midway writing it. Until then, catch you soon. 

Thank you for reading this far, I look forward to your comments.