I’m at the hospital, for a normal clinic visit to get an induction date – and BOOM!
I’m in labour ya’ll!
I was sent from the clinic to the maternity ward, where Daddydaims and I had to part ways, so he started making all the necessary calls and set up a WhatsApp group to keep our families updated, arranged for my hospital bag to be dropped off (Poor planning I know, but it’s practically unheard of to be induced on the day you visit the clinic! They normally tell you to come back the following day for the induction!) and 10 hours after being admitted to the maternity ward, I was sent up to the labour ward. Daddydaims came with.
We did all of the labour-like things you see in movies, he rubbed my back and we continually walked around the ward, to help with the pains.
It was cute.
But then shit got real, and it wasn’t cute anymore.
My contractions intensified so dramatically that my readings were quite literally off the chart.
I couldn’t deal with the pain, and passed out.
Again and again.
Each and every time I had a contraction, I would regain consciousness, scream my freaking face off, and pass out as soon as it stopped.
I was having a contraction every 90 seconds.
This went on for 4 hours straight.
Daddydaims thought I was dying.
I thought I was dying.
To this day, nearly 11 months after – he still can’t talk about this experience, he only says that watching me go through that was the worst time of his life.
Anyhoo – next thing I know, I’m in a wheelchair, being wheeled down a long corridor.
By this point, I have lost so much blood and I’m in so much pain that I can’t remember much – just a blur of faces asking me if I know what’s happening.
From the bits and pieces I could put together – I told the doctor that yes, I knew what was happening, my baby’s heart-rate was dropping and I needed an emergency Caesarean. A completely expressionless look flashed across the doctors face before he looked up to the person wheeling me and said ‘There’s no time for this. This baby is basically dead. Get her to sign this’
Deep breaths Tash.
I honestly can’t explain the level of fear that flooded my body upon hearing those words.
I was completely numb. My body was shaking uncontrollably, and my veins felt like they were filled with ice. I signed ‘this’, I can’t tell you what ‘this’ was. Putting the pieces together, I now think it was a consent form or something along those lines.
To cut a 29-hour story short, I was in a white room, completely naked and was given a spinal block and a sedative because I was frrrreaking out so badly. They couldn’t stop the shakes though, they covered me with a blanket and I tried to explain that I wasn’t cold – I was terrified.
One thing about having a Caesarean is this: you feel everything.
Fret not – you don’t feel the pain.
But you can actually feel them slicing, feel their hands inside you, feel them pull the baby out, feel them bunch together your now-loose skin, feel them stitch you back up.
And super weird.
I had a comedian for a surgeon, she told me I will be back in my bikini in no time and that you will barely see the scar, to which I responded that I don’t wear bikini’s and she had a fake freak out and shouted ‘Then why am I putting so much effort in if nobody will ever see my good work?’ and even made a joke about Arabella being a terrible name for a baby boy and then admitted that she was just messing around and that my daughter was in fact a daughter, and that they got her heart beating and she can’t wait to meet me so I need to go now.
So, that was that.
They put me in a wheely bed and scooted me down the passage to a ‘warm’ room, the second I entered that room – my life changed forever.
My precious daughter, Arabella-Jane, was waiting for her momma.