About this time, way back in 2009 I was arguing with someone about wee.
The nurse needed my pee, I couldn’t pee. Turns out some weird pregnancy thing was going on and my kidneys were packing in, she thought I was just being awkward, cause everyone loves to hold on to pee, especially when 8 months pregnant with twins.
Eventually they got my pee.
Then I had an argument with a midwife, she didn’t believe me that my waters had broke, the trail of amniotic fluid wasn’t a sign at all!
That last night, just us a couple was weird, there we were in the delivery suit, waiting. Never has a night been so long yet passed so quickly. It was whilst I was hyped up on goodness knows what and hubs tried sleeping upright in the most uncomfortable chair, that we realised we were about to be parents.
No scan, blood tests, kicking babies, nursery shopping or expanding belly prepares you for the moment when you realise that you are about to be a parent.
It was a proper “Dude, what the fuck!” moment.
But time, and babies, do not wait for expectant parents to get their shit together.
Before I knew it everyone and their aunt were getting a look at my vagina and I was being told off for having strong back muscles which were preventing them from administering the epidural, my bad.
After 26 hours of labour Ahren decided enough was enough and it was time to get things moving along, his heart rate dropped off the charts and panic ensued.
I was whisked away to theatre, which is colder than you think, and hubs was dressed up in snazzy scrubs.
Next thing I knew someone was handing me baby. A proper real life baby that I not only had made but was now responsible for.
Shit just got real.
I just about had time to pass the baby, still not sure if it was Ahren or Ethan, to a nurse before I passed out. I spent 3 days in and out of consciousness in Recovery, my recovery did not go well. Both my kidneys and lungs decided to pack in.
I do remember my first cuddle with Ahren, it was also the first time we tried breast feeding.
There I was, a proud mama holding her first born. And then he turned blue and floppy in my arms. I remember shoving him in the nurses face saying “I don’t think he’s meant to look like this”.
Never have I seen a person move so fast, before I could register what was going on, he was ripped from my arms and the nurse along with hubs ran toward NICU where Ahren was to spend the next few days.
Those first few hours of just Ethan and I were weird. I felt awful, thinking I had practically killed my baby with my boobs.
I was passing in and out of consciousness tripping out on whatever drugs they gave me, the epidural lingered way too long and I did wonder if I’d ever feel my legs again let alone walk. It took over 48 hours for me to actually be able to move my legs. Scary times.
No one would or could tell me if Ahren was still alive.
Eventually a nurse took pity on me and after about 5 hours told me he was okay. Phew!
Ethan was in a cot thingy next to me the whole time.
I remember him crying, he was hungry, and I couldn’t do a damn thing.
I couldn’t move to pick him up. Either I’d forgotten in my tripped out haze or no one had told me, but I didn’t know about the buzzer button behind me which would alert the nurses station that I needed help. So Ethan and I both lay there crying. Him because he was hungry and me because I had failed the first hurdle of motherhood.
I got told off again for leaving him crying. My shittiness as a mama was cemented, I’d not only tried to kill Ahren by boob but I’d left Ethan alone to cry, it’s no wonder that depression was soon to become my best friend.
Little did I know that this was just a glimpse as to the crazy ride that was to be our journey in to parenthood.