So the relationship with Mia’s dad didn’t work out. We split when she was 9 months old. I moved into my own place a day before her 1st birthday and as the months went by I got a Job, I got a better flat and I met someone else. Within a year of our relationship I was duffed up again.
This time I was 25 and Mia was now 4. I knew from the beginning this pregnancy was not the same.**Prenatal depression** But we will talk about that later on… I had the same sickness, I put on the pounds by the second!! I was a whale. By the time I reached the second trimester my boyfriend refused to have sex with me because I was too fat.
I felt tired ALL the time and utter shit. I was highly anaemic and was being tested for gestational Diabetes as the baby was weighing in big (turns out the dates were just wrong) I had piles….that were haemorrhaging! It honestly felt like someone was stubbing cigarettes out on my bumhole and I felt like an embarrassed child crying down the phone to the doctor that my bum was sore!
I ate, I slept, I ate, I slept. As soon as Mia went to school I launched myself on the sofa and would not move all day. It just wasn’t me. I am an active person I like to keep busy and on the go.
Again the big day came. DUE DATE!!!…..and went……what is it with these squatting babies? Get out of me already I want my body back. I am too fat to walk, I fart or nearly wet myself every time I get up from the sofa (to the point I became OCD with bathing and still am to this day). Exit for fuck sakes, thats mummy’s little cherub.
I HATED every second of this pregnancy. I looked in the mirror to see that some fat woman had eaten me. I went from 8st 5oz to 12st 1oz! I was an emotional wreck, my boyfriend came home to me having an emotional breakdown to Home and Away!
10 days overdue I had tried everything. Rosemary tea, Pineapple for 2 days, hot food….no sex (as mentioned above) so I whacked on the music and jiggled my fat arse around the living room of my flat. By 11pm contractions started.
25 HOURS LATER!!! after contractions…again….every 5 minutes, numerous visits to the toilet, nearly smacking the nurse, who after giving me an internal, PUSHED THE BABY BACK UP!! from 6cms back to 4cms and adding hours onto my labour, I was ready to push. I was prepped with a canular just incase a C section was needed as the baby was distressed and too high.
“If an arm or a leg comes out we will have to ring the surgeon”
Visions of the movie “Alien” entered into my head. Oh yes thats ok, don’t wake the surgeon until the baby is TRYING TO FUCKING ESCAPE, LIMB FIRST!! I will just wait…in agony….with gas and air as my only friend as NO other pain relief was offered.
Into delivery room, waters popped with one nurse holding my bump up whilst the other pushed down on the bottom of my belly….obviously a form of medieval torture they still decided to practice at this hospital, oh dear, baby’s water is Meconium….problem.
Then it all went quick, drips in my arm, baby’s heartbeat going crazy, blood clots being pulled out of my arms like worms, evil sadistic paediatrician who decided my bladder needed emptying and stuck a straw like instrument straight into my wee hole…..the fucking agony!!! I cannot describe it.
Push push Emma….getting her head out was like pushing out a breeze block, my waters had been popped and squeezed out of me two hours previous and I felt “dry”. I even felt her ears come out! Ahhhh but at least the worst part was over, the head was out.
Nope…”the baby is stuck Emma you really have to push” ohhhh really is that what I am supposed to be doing I didnt realise!!! I am fucking pushing!!! Not good enough so each nurse grabbed a leg each and stretched me apart. Out came the shoulders, then one more push and she was out. No big relief of ahh its over. The stinging was intense.
They lifted up this purple, sagging open mouthed baby, which I could see was a girl, then whisked her away. Oxygen was not working so they put a tube down her throat and I finally heard her cry. But the room was silent….my boyfriend had wanted a boy, he was adamant it was a boy and was devastated it was a girl. He would not look at the baby, he compared it to being as bad as the day he lost his mother….hello **Postnatal depression** talk about that later too.
At 01.40am on 29th November 2006, after 27 hours of labour and 2 hours of pushing, weighing….wait for it…..9lb 5oz!!!…..Ella Christine was born. Whether is was motherly instinct (especially after I returned from my bath, for my boyfriend to plonk the baby in my arms and say “it won’t stop crying”) or the fact I had inhaled enough gas and air to lift a hot air balloon….I was pleased. I was happy. Mia had a little sister, I had two beautiful girls.
Suffice to say it didn’t take long for Ella to become the apple of her dad’s eye. Ella is very unique. She thinks differently to a lot of kids and had terrible shyness which led to her struggling when she started school. Ella likes routine and is a “Homing Pigeon”, to the point the doctors put her through all sorts of tests thinking she was deaf as she never spoke to anyone but the family until she was four. Ella is my feral child! She usually looks like one of those children you hear about living with wild dogs in the forest, she doesn’t give a shit what she looks like and would walk around naked if she could.
The Feral One!!!
But she is thoughtful, generous and sensitive….just a creature of habit! I always blamed myself as I was so ill with PND after her birth but I now realise it is just part of her makeup, its who she is and she makes me proud everyday. Ella had a bad accident when she was 6 which left her with a shattered knee and she ripped off her growth plate. Lots of operations and pain, she handled it LIKE A BOSS. She coped with the pain, she never moaned, she is not ashamed of her scar and is open when people stare or ask. From being in a wheelchair, to walking on a frame, then crutches, physio, you can only slightly tell when she runs that there was ever a problem. She has and always will be my baby girl
Lesson 5. Kids can be the best and worst thing all at once.