Mini Kat is going to be five in September. That’s right…FIVE. How did that happen? Oh yes, time passed by too quickly. As we are preparing each other for starting school I find myself thinking back to the position we were in together all that time ago when I was pregnant. Not a lot has changed…I’m still carrying all that extra baby weight – I can still call it baby weight right? I still can’t sleep through the night without getting too hot, too cold, needing a wee, worrying about my daughter, worrying in general, the list goes on – I am also tying this in with getting old.
But when I really think back about our time together as mother and daughter, despite everything we’ve been through together, most of our memories have been happy ones.
I had a pretty easy going pregnancy without morning sickness or SPD, and I was large before pregnancy so carrying extra weight wasn’t really a problem except it wasn’t easy to see I was pregnant, not until I was about 40 weeks when my ex partners mother told me “Oh, finanlly looking pregnant rather than just round now?” with a hearty chuckle. Hilarious.
Anyway, I went overdue, by two weeks and I was booked in for an Induction. I wanted a home birth, that didn’t happen. Although since the age of about 14 I have been telling myself, my diaries, writing it down everywhere that my first baby would be a girl and she would be born in September because I wanted her to be one of the oldest in the class. She was due 21st August. She was born at 10.07am on Friday 3rd September weighing 8lb3oz. I think the fact that I remember the time, date and birth weight – like pretty much every other mum – is a true moment of when time stood completely still. What makes it even more amazing for me is that I was in theatre at that time, completely spaced out due to sleep deprivation, not eating and possibly too much drugs.
You see, I had complications in labour. Mini Kat’s heart rate wasn’t having any accelerations, she’d pooped in me – thanks, dear daughter, and I had caught a fever – probably another reason why I was a touch delirious…and after two hours of pushing with a group of unsupportive rubbish midwives I was greeted by a head surgeon to tell me I was being prepped for surgery to try forceps delivery or a c-section. I have to be honest, I was so out of it my first concern wasn’t for my baby. It was the absolute fear of not having enough epidural and to feel them slicing my gut open. I think I probably had more than I needed because I kept telling people I could feel it. I must have had enough because I couldn’t feel anything from the top of my shoulders down. Reassuring. The thing I remember most was the pain from the blood pressure monitor, it was too much and I kept asking them to remove it. I cried a lot. But quite selfishly the feat wasn’t for my daughter, it was just being terrified of what was happening to me. That was quite selfish. And I’m sorry mini kat.
The C-section happened.
I felt I had failed. I couldn’t even birth my daughter. How could I begin to parent when my stupid self couldn’t even do that right?
I couldn’t hold my baby because I couldn’t move my arms. I couldn’t even touch her until I was completely out of surgery. It took 50 minutes for us to have our first skin to skin contact in the recovery room and when I was finally able to breastfeed for the first time. For 25 minutes she feed solidly with a good latch. I cried again. I was proud. At least I could do something right. At least I could feed my daughter.
I’m writing this now because she is turning five. Because once again I am terrified and excited and it’s not just for my daughter, those feelings are very real for me too. She’s going to school, so I’m not really going to be a stay at home mum anymore, I’m just going to be a business woman. This is fine, this is great, this is some personal space and freedom I’ve wanted for ages but…I don’t have a baby anymore.