My birth plan was as simple as this.
No frustration or disappointment when it didn’t go to plan.
We knew quite a few weeks before my due date that this little bebe was coming earlier than expected, which all in all wasn’t such a bad thing as my back and pelvis silently rejoiced that the pain was going to be over soon. And not just soon, but we had an end date for when it was all going to happen by, which made time speed up all of a sudden. Instead of the “not sure when I will go into labour” conversations, we had more of “well we need to get that done by this date” chats about our arrival. Time moves quickly in that case.
Sure, I was going to miss out on the eventful breaking of the waters (I always wondered how that was going to happen for me and where… because the movies have made it out to be so dramatic that I couldn’t imagine it would happen any other way than a huge gush of liquid while I self scanned groceries at peak hour in the supermarket). There was not going to be the anxious call to Tim while he was at work and I was in the lounge room second guessing myself about whether or not “this is it” and “should we go to the hospital”.
Nope… none of that apparently was for me. After weeks of check ups and changed circumstances (see footnote on Gestational Diabetes, Breech Baby, Large Head/Tummy Circumference measurements etc) we had to just plan to have no plan as the details changed with every appointment. In the end I was going to have a scheduled induction to try and bring out the babe, although that too got slightly shuffled when Tim broke his wrist 7 days beforehand and needed surgery so we again needed to accept that the plan had to change. He recovered fine, don’t worry.
Without all the gory personal details, we tried an induction, which failed to progress in any sense and after 12 hours we were scheduled for the last spot on a Friday afternoon for a C Section. Talk about a party! That was it. We sat in our hospital room waiting the 6 hour fasting time out, knowing that in such and such time we would have our baby and be back in that very room as a family of three. We sat through those waiting hours wondering when we should get changed into our operating clothes that were laid out for us; a gown for me, scrubs for Tim, and a bundle of delicious hospital blankets that were fresh and ready for the babe.
Although it wasn’t the original plan, it was the perfect plan. I wouldn’t have changed a thing and have no issues or regrets with how the whole scenario panned out. I was safe, our baby was safe, we were all together and we got through it with minimal fuss.
I’m eternally grateful for those hours waiting for the surgery. To beat the nerves and try to stay somewhat occupied, I grabbed the camera to snap the details of our room. The room that felt like home for the week following Jacks delivery and one that I was hesitant to leave when it came time to go home. Given the C Section I wasn’t too mobile in the days following his birth, and the furtherest I ventured was a lap around the ward before being caught by a nurse and told I had gone too far and should just stick to walking around my room so I didn’t over extend myself. When it did come to going home time, I remember walking to the car and looking at the sky, remembering how good fresh air and a dash of sunshine is!
I know so many people say they were dying to go home to their own things and be back in their familiar space, but I loved my hospital stay and felt so comfortable and safe in that tiny bubble of a room. The room with the view of the helipad so as we spent the nights awake while the rest of the world slept, we could sit and watch the helicopters fly in and out of the hospital and just be grateful that we may be tired but we were all OK. I don’t think I’ll ever forget all the little details like the cords and cables strung around, the powerpoint behind the bed that I struggled to reach as I tried not to stretch my tummy/scar and the rollaway trolley that was like another limb as it followed me everywhere so it could hold my phone, water bottle and necessities like midnight snacks of cheese and crackers that I had hoarded throughout the day whilst room service was available.
That little room that was ours for a week, where Jack and I spent our nights when Tim finally went home on day three to sleep properly. It was the room where we sat when Tim called us from the car park to say he missed us already.
That little room that watched us become a tribe of three x