The baby was ten days overdue and an induction was booked for the next day. I was glad not to have to go through that as I'd heard not-so-good things about being induced. (Not true, as I learned next time round.) So off to the hospital we trotted, I was wired up to a fetal monitor and everything looked great. The baby's heartbeat was low and steady, making everyone tell me it was a boy (even though I knew better in my head). I took a long time to dilate and kept stopping in between. At about 4pm I was finally ready to push. Two hours later we were starting to think about Plan B. Apparently the baby was "sunny side up" meaning that she was facing out and her neck was craning backwards to try to get out. That, plus a pelvis that hadn't been given the manual on how to expand a bit, meant that the babe was well and truly stuck. I heard mention of a c-section and begged my doctor to let me keep trying, but I think I already knew that was hopeless.
The c-section was a fairly relaxed affair for the baby, (compared to the one I had ten years later) and a huge warrior-princess came out about 45 minutes later, a shock of jet black hair sticking straight up like a Mohican. Unfortunately, my uterus was bleeding profusely now so there was lots of "irrigation", general shifting around of organs, and a blood trnafusion was at the ready. My main memory of the whole thing was shaking uncontrollably, and my head banging on the table. (You should have seen the black eyes I had the next day.) I stayed in recovery for five hours and then they wheeled me back to my room for what became the worst night of my life. The only "drink" I was allowed was a sponge on a stick with mouth wash. Mouthwash!!! Eventually one of the nurses took pity on my dry mouth and allowed me to rinse with water as long as I spat it out.
I was on heavy duty pain-killers at the time and was supposed to ring when I could feel them wearing off. It was at this time that we learned I have the constitution of an elephant when it comes to pain relief. It was wearing off at about twice the rate of a normal human, and my body went into full convulsions just to prove to the nurses that I wasn't faking.
My insurance coverage allowed me an extra day because of the c-section, although even then none of my docs thought I was ready to be discharged. (A whopping three nights woo-hoo.)
Anyhoo, she's 17 today. Where did the time go? She was a high maintenance baby, but I am guessing that was because I was making up the rules as I went along. She's been a very low maintenance child and teen - have I just jinxed things? I am so proud to have a tall, willowy, happy girl, but more because of the way she's met her dyslexia head on, achieves A grades despite the odds and refuses to let it stand in her way.
You go girl! (But not just yet!)