The time has come


This is it. I have been admitted to hospital and all being well I shall leave with a baby in my arms.

My husband brings in my case and helps me settle in but once he's gone I feel lonely. Lonely and scared. The midwife has pulled everyone's cubical curtains back so I hope to spark up a conversation but it's not to be. The other expectant mums pull them back round and continue to talk on their phones.

Just after ten I am told it's time for lights out but as the doctor has said I should go back on the monitor and have a sweep I ask the midwife when this will be done. She tells me there's nothing on my notes and walks off.  Half an hour later I am woken by a tapping on my shoulder. The midwife is back with the machine I am now best friends with and tells me I need to go back on the monitor. It's like our earlier conversation never even happened! Bean's shuffling starts and I am on the monitor until gone one in the morning. There's no mention of a sweep being done and when I'm finally off the machine I'm left to settle down to sleep but I barely do. I toss and turn. Sit up and lie down. I am worried. I'm a bit scared. I'm lying, I'm bloody terrified! I want my husband. I want my baby. I want to go home.

When the doctor's do the rounds they ask if I've had a sweep and a midwife enters as I say no. A heated discussion takes place and I feel very uncomfortable. It comes to light that I haven't had the sweep because if I go into labour there is no space for me in the labour suite. In fact they are close to closing for admissions and will soon starting sending patients to the other neighbouring hospitals. The discussion moves away into the corridor and I again have no idea of what is going on.

I spend most of the day still feeling lonely and worried but I soon have visitors in the shape of my mum and husband. As the day passes there are ladies discharged and admitted in my bay. I start to dread another lonely night in hospital. Little do I know that a few hours later I will be forever grateful for the new additions to Red Bay. Two of the ladies that join me are friendly and open to conversation. Each on their own difficult journeys, we strike up conversation and bond as we compare notes. We talk for hours and are told at one point to stop talking and settle down for the night! We ignore it and continue to chat away! I will never forget the two ladies I met that day. They both turned the whole experience around for me. A dark and terribly lonely time was pushed aside by these rays of sunshine. I will truly never forget them.

As we continue to chat over breakfast I am told to get myself ready for a move up the ward, away from my new friends and into another bay. I am going to be induced. I then have the pleasure of my cervix being examined again and the hormone pessary inserted. I won't lie. It was bloody awful. There is so much noise in the bay with people coming and going and then my name being called to fill out some paperwork for cord donation, that I get worked up into a state and can't relax. The midwife takes her gloves off, steps out of the cubical and orders everyone out. She then asks if I would like my husband to sit beside me and he is soon by my side holding my hand. Time passes and by the evening I am wandering up and down the corridor having contractions. My husband is sent home and the loneliness and worry creeps back. I snap out of it when I get a message from a friend sending me warm wishes and reassurance. I settle down as best I can and a midwife tucks me into bed. On her advice I think of all the happy times over the last few months as I drift off to sleep.

My surprise baby shower arranged by my nieces, sister in law and friend. The fuss my colleagues made of me during my last week. Gifts, cake, a buffet and a very emotional presentation. My closest colleagues gifted me with a gorgeous shawl from GH Hurt, which is the same one Prince George has. I smile to myself and rub my bump. It's been a long hard road but I still feel so lucky as I nod off to sleep.

My husband returns the next morning as I'm about to have the pessary removed and we are told the news that I am already a centimeter dilated but I need to get to the labour suite quickly as they have only just reopened following a busy night and they are struggling for room.

I waddle down and we are shown into a room. I'm told to relax and that someone will be with me in the next ten minutes or so. Ten minutes come and go but I patiently wait perched on the bed, swinging my legs, not wanting to bother anyone as I hear the screams of a woman in full labour. My husband tries to distract me from it and as I laugh at my husband I suddenly wish I  hadn't. I've wet myself and it won't stop. I manage to get in the shower cubicle as the trickle gets stronger. I look up at my husband......

"Shit. I think my waters have gone"

The time has finally come for me to be a Mummy.

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