Throughout the labour, I had been updating Twitter with hilariously witty and brilliant comments on the entire process. I hadn't really thought this through. Because at this point (with my last Tweet being something along the lines of "starting to push now"), there was suddenly radio silence from me. Which probably worried people unnecessarily. Well, a bit necessarily. We were a bit worried too.
They put up a little curtain thingy - well, more a large blue piece of kitchen towel from my neck down, so neither TheBloke (TM) nor I could see the gory stuff. I felt the surgeons draw a line across my tummy - this was the cut, but of course I felt no pain. I felt some rummaging around.
Then - quite, quite horribly, I felt them pushing the baby back up my foo foo. Essentially the baby had descended too far for a straightforward C-section, so she needed to be pushed back up again in order to get her out. It was like giving birth in reverse. Or - if you will - having a massive poo pushed back up inside you. Not a good feeling.
The next thing I was consciously aware of was a heavy weight being removed from my stomach. "Baby's clear," said someone wearing a gown. My stomach felt empty.
Then... nothing. No crying. The beeping of machines that shouldn't have been beeping. Or the lack of beeping of machines that should have been beeping. I can't remember which.
"How's the baby?" I asked Pooja.
"Baby's with the baby doctor," was the only reply I was getting. This was in stark contrast to every time I'd previously asked the question, when I'd been told, "Baby's fine, baby's happy." Baby doctor. Like I was too stupid to understand the word "paediatrician".
Nothing. Minutes of nothing.
Then finally - a cry. The baby was OK.
A bundle of something warm was handed to TheBloke (TM). And then to me, though I couldn't really hold her as the surgeons were sewing me up. Whipps Cross being a teaching hospital, I vaguely remember one of the surgeons telling the other one which bit to stitch. Which even at the time was a bit disturbing.
TheBloke (TM) left the room again, with the bundle of warmth, to be weighed. The bundle, that is, not TheBloke (TM). TheBloke (TM) weighed more than he had that morning because he had eaten all of my hospital food. Meanwhile, I had lost 8lb 8oz in literally two minutes.
Duly, I was wheeled into the recovery room, where I did some recovering. As I came round every few minutes from my drug-induced stupor, I looked to my right, and was surprised every time that there was a baby next to me. I kept forgetting I had a daughter.
This has happened several times since. Notably when I offered to go to Co-Op with TheBloke (TM) and forgot that someone would need to stay home with the baby. Still, I haven't yet accidentally left her in a carpark. Watch this space.
So - a summary: low points of giving birth:
- Uncontrollable shitting
- Labour pains
- Scary big red button
- Having a baby pushed back up your foo foo
High points:
- Drugs. Lovely drugs.
- Catheters. Now this is a good invention. You never need to go to the toilet again. You don't even feel like you need to go. Think of the time you would save!
- Being a first-time owner of a brand new one of these. What can I say? I love monkeys.
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