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Non-Fiction
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| Calum | |
| By emacskye | ||||||||||
| 10 April 2007 | ||||||||||
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Calum's birth story. I seen that others had posted their stories and had to give it a go. Welcome Calum I think I need to start this with a little background info about me. When I was seven I was diagnosed with mosaic Turners syndrome and told I would never have children and a host of other bull. I love my boy, but my advice to any teenager in similar circumstances is that a diagnosis of infertility should not be used as a form of contraception – it could end up with you getting you bobbies bitten. I had never allowed myself to feel maternal, and I had never held a newborn or changed a nappy until Calum as born. I still haven’t bottle-fed a baby, Calum attached himself to my boobs and didn’t let go for nearly two years. When I was pregnant, and ever since, it has felt like a crash course in motherhood. I was nineteen and in my first real relationship, we had been together eighteen months when I fell pregnant. I had been sick, constipated and unbearably tired for weeks, I complained to a friend I had known since nursery school (did she think it was serious? Should I go to the docs?) Lorna reply was that it sounded like I was pregnant, my anger boiled over, she new I couldn’t have kids. To spite her, show her that I wasn’t pregnant I bought a test, then eat my words. Lorna got on the next bus and took the eight hour trip down to Glasgow, and her reassuring hug at the bus stop is something I will always treasure. I was young and scared, the doctors fussed, I was an unusual case but they reassured me they could see nothing wrong. The rest of my pregnancy passed without complication. Me and my partner John had been offered a brand new flat on Skye and moved in when I was eight months gone. The nesting instinct was strong, my neighbours grassed me to my mum when they seen me up ladders and carrying heavy loads, she had some strong words for me. Due to their being only a visiting obstetric consultant on Skye all first time mums have to travel to Inverness to give birth. This involves being placed, four days before your dew date, in a block of flats called Kyle court near Raigmore Hospital. The room I was in was bare, no telly, or radio, only a single bed and a chair. It had no communal sitting room and I had to walk over to the hospital for my meals. I have never felt so lonely or emotional. John couldn’t stay with me, there was no room and he had to go back to work. The midwife had warned us that most first time mums go over their due date and we had decided it would be best if we kept his leave till I got home with the baby. His boss promised he would drive him through at the drop of a hat, and he would get two weeks off when I returned home. I ended up spending thirteen nights in Kyle court, raspberry leaf tea didn’t work for me. During my captivity, I enjoyed wandering around Inverness picking up bits and pieces for my new flat and some more gorgeous baby clothes. John phoned me everyday, he was enthusiastic and reassuring. On day nine I walked to a retail park on the other side of the town, we needed carpets. It was only a few miles there and back but my legs expanded to elephant proportions. I took myself over to the maternity ward only to get sent back to Kyle court, we were fine. The midwife sympathetically telling me that babies were like trains they ran to there own timetables, she also said I should rest a bit more. During my thirteenth night, I’m blushing while I write this, I had a very graphic dream – I think I was replaying the conception. I woke up, felling very naughty and extremely happy. I realised that I needed the toilet for the umpteenth time that night and as I stood up liquid ran down my legs. There was no gush, just a constant trickle so I thought maybe the baby was just being awkward and putting all its weight on my bladder (blushing again at the memory of thinking I was incontinent). The dribbling never stopped and I realised it was more than bladder weakness, so I phoned the number I had been given and a car was dispatched to take me over to the ward. The driver, not much older than I was at the time, asked me if I was in much pain. I looked at him confused as I realised I wasn’t in pain. I knew the pain would come and with this realisation the first wave of panic hit like a tsunami. It was half past seven and I was allowed to phone John and my mum before the midwife took me into a side room and examined me. I hadn’t started dilating and the midwife assured me that there would be enough time for my partner to make an entrance before the baby did. She was right, John was there in just under three hours and I had yet to start dilating or contracting. We sat there talking, enjoying each others company after two weeks apart. My mum had come through as well, wanting to be at the birth, she went home that night still waiting to become a grandparent. I was relaxed, how else could I act, as nothing was happening. At ten that night the midwife came in and said it was time for John to go, I was still not contracting or dilating but the amniotic fluid was still trickling every time I moved. John was reassured that if anything happened, they would phone Kyle court or a porter would be sent to get him. I was moved onto a word from the side room and given a tens machine to deal with the mild back ache I was now suffering. Every time I felt the back ache I ended up frantically searching through the covers, only finding the controls once it subsided. They weren’t contractions and I managed to get a few hours sleep before the midwife examined me again, no progress. I was taken onto the labour word at nine that morning and induced with an oxytocin drip. Thinking that this was it I braced myself waiting for the pain to start. For the next ten hours the midwife played with the drip, trying to force my body to do what should come naturally. The drip had been increased as far as the midwife was allowed to set it and she went and got permission to double it from there. After eleven hours in the labour ward I was only six centimetres dilated, and the midwife was concerned that my contractions were not that strong. From reading others stories I would agree, although my labour was by no means pain free I don’t think it was as painful as most – lucky cow I know. It was decided at the eleventh hour that a c-section would be needed if there wasn’t real progress in the next hour. The midwife felt it would be best if I had an epidural administered so that in the event I needed a c-section (she felt that was a forgone conclusion) I would just need topped up. The anaesthetist arrived and I was numbed from the waist down. Before it took full hold, I looked at the midwife and said “I think I’m pushing.” She retorted saying it was very unlikely that I needed to push and I should just relax. She started to get worried about the babies heart beat, as it was dropping at every contraction. The consultant was called and the midwife told me I was definitely going for a c-section. As the midwife was explaining the c-section to me, I tried to explain to her that I was pushing. She wouldn’t check as it was only forty five minutes since she had last checked and I couldn’t have dilated four centimetres in that time. I pulled the sheet off me and tried to stick my legs up in the air screaming like a banshee “I’m pushing and I can’t control it, will you just fucking look”. She looked, her face dropped and she asked the student midwife to get another midwife in as the birth was imminent. Half an hour of vein busting pushing later, Calum Macleod entered the world weighing 8lbs 1oz. I stayed in Raigmore hospital for four days, and I had loads of visitors during that time. Everyone was cooing over my beautiful boy, my locker was crammed full of gifts and cards and John told me there was more at home. I am still touched by people’s generosity, as a lot of the cards were from people I hardly knew. My dad got himself an Audi 80 as a treat for becoming a grandparent, and it was in this that I took Calum home to Skye. John had planned a homecoming meal, steak and chips with a bottle of bubbly. The meal never went to plan. Our second hand cooker tripped the electrics in the flat and it wouldn’t work again, so it ended up being microwaved steak in a sandwich, I was so happy to be home that I would have been delighted with cat food. I had worried so much about my maternal instincts throughout my pregnancy, I needn’t have worried, my boy is a miracle and I will do anything for him. Calum is now eight and we live in Inverness, it’s just the two of us now. I see Kyle court from my window at work everyday, and I fell pity for any expecting mothers staying there.
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