Introducing Boy J

Well Hi There!

I swear time is definitely more wobbly-wobbly-timey-wimey than any sort of constant.  The last six or seven weeks have just disappeared; it’s been a roller coaster, that’s for sure but I think we’re starting to find some sort of new normality.

I’d like to introduce Boy J, baby brother to Boy (now known as Boy A)!

We’re doing fine!

 

These photos have all been robbed from Husband’s i-Phone as I didn’t take any in the first few days.

I had gestational diabetes whilst pregnant which meant my labour was induced at 38 weeks.  This went well and I’d got to 3cm in 24hrs so it was decided that they would artificially break my waters on the delivery suite to continue the momentum – this is all normal by the way for an induced labour.  This is also where we deviated from the text book.

During my pregnancy the scans had shown a lot of amniotic fluid, but the last scan had shown that the levels were normal.  When my waters were broken there was a LOT of water and the poor doctor got drenched.  Contractions started up beautifully but the baby’s heart rate was dropping by over 50% with each contraction.  This was not good.

When there’s a lot of water, the baby has more room to move about – think swimming pool versus bath tub.  Because there’s more room their head can come out of the pelvis more easily and as a result the umbilical cord can be flushed down into the space their head should be.  This is what happened.  Once the water had gone, each time I had a contraction Boy J’s head was being forced onto his umbilical cord and cutting off his life support.

Boy J was delivered by an emergency C-Section in the early hours of that Saturday morning.  As soon as I saw the heart rate dropping I knew what was going to happen but I will admit to never being so terrified in my life.  Not for myself but for the baby.  Husband has said he’s never been so terrified either.  We went from us plus a midwife and doctor in the room to more than a dozen, with my clothes being ripped off as I was prepped for surgery as I went down the corridor.  I have maybe two or three very vivid memories of those few minutes (all of how amazing the NHS staff were) then nothing until Husband handed me a baby and said it was a boy.  That first day doesn’t really exist for me.

About three hours old. And seriously spaced out me.

 

Boy J had to go to NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) on the Saturday evening so that he could be tube fed so that his blood sugars could be stabilised (the gestational diabetes puts the baby’s levels out of sync for a short period too, so their body has to learn what to do).  Again the staff were amazing and in less than 24 hours he was discharged from their care, back to the post natal ward and back to me.  I’d been told I could go home on the Sunday too, so late Sunday night the midwives sorted our paperwork out and we came home on the Monday.

Unfortunately the pain I was in got worse and worse to the point I could hardly walk.  I’d had major abdominal surgery so wasn’t expecting to be doing cartwheels, but I was immobile.  I couldn’t even pick Boy J up from his moses basket next to me.  I was also running a temperature, going hot and cold and literally counting down the minutes until I could take the next set of pain killers.

My wound had got infected and whilst my GP and the doctor I saw at the hospital thought so, a registrar basically said I was making a fuss over nothing, of course it’d hurt and sent me home.  That night my scar ruptured and I’ll spare you the details –  it was disgusting and made me want to throw up (and I’m pretty bomb-proof).

But again, the staff at the hospital were brilliant and spent a considerable amount of time draining it and sorting my after care out.  The lead consultant in gynaecology then did several follow up appointments and he discharged me a couple of weeks ago.  I’m able to drive again too now which is just amazing.  Living in a rural area my car isn’t a luxury – for the last six weeks I couldn’t even get Boy A to school.  My parents and siblings bailed me out with out any complaint.  In fact my Dad seems to miss doing the school run in the morning?!

Boy A and Boy J on the Sunday

 

All in all, a bit of a rough ride but me and Boy J are doing fine.  Boy A adores him and we’re finding our feet!  I’m incredibly grateful for the amazing things the NHS has done for me and Boy J in the last few months, and for my amazing Husband and family who’ve maintained as much ‘normal’ as possible for Boy A.  There’s sweet FA sewing going on but that hasn’t stopped me living vicariously through all your blogs, Instagram posts and tweets!  At some point I’ll organise my space in the office, but for now I’m enjoying baby cuddles!