What they don't tell you about giving birth...

By HH

 

Photo: http://www.maplegallery.com.au/blog/page/4/


Here I am, sitting on the edge of the theatre bed, playing tug of war with the itsy, bitsy, teeny, weenie hospital gown with my backside on display for all to see.
Thank God my contractions are only very slight and I’m not in any pain.
Two nurses come either side of me. They each clutch a hand and brace me. I feel safe, it’s nice and I smile thankfully.
Then I see my friendly obstetrician, who’s turned from a clean cut looking Santa with a bow tie and red runners to the butcher of Bagdad in operating garb ready for slaughter.
I’m not smiling anymore.
I hear the words ‘spinal block procedure’ and remind myself of what they said about it not being an issue.

The spinal block is necessary to put the body to sleep from the chest down, in order to perform the c-section. It is a one-off injection along with some anesthetic that needs to be inserted into the spine.

Stay still. Stay very still. Or the needle will puncture something else and do some serious damage. Scary but necessary – I have worked out the odds, weighed up the pros and cons and have decided to do it as so many other women before me. After all, I’ve had needles before, how bad could this be?

I was born with a condition called scoliosis. It is a curvature of the spine. In my family it is hereditary; my grandmother on my mother’s side has it. I had to have a spinal fusion at the age of 13 and now there are pins and rods in my spine along with a mass of scar tissue. During my pregnancy in preparation for the delivery I made an appointment to discuss pain relief options with the anesthetist. I had some concerns with needles being inserted into my spine and the possibility that this wouldn’t work for me due to my spinal fusion. After much discussion with multiple doctors, I was given the all clear and was told that there would be no issue.

Ready. Set. Inject.
The pain was like shards of glass stabbing into my flesh and bouncing off my bones. Now I know why the two nurses are holding my hands. I hold onto them so tightly I leave nail indentations.
The fun didn’t end there. The needles didn’t work. Too much scar tissue to get through. Urgency turns into emergency. You could cut the tension with a scalpel.
Six failed jabs later and I am swearing to the heavens above for salvation.
The nervous anesthetist was desperate to deliver that to me. Sweating. Apologizing. And trying again and again.
‘Stop’ said my obstetrician. He advises Plan B – put me to sleep under a full general anesthetic. This meant my partner was not allowed in the room during delivery. This also meant that baby will be five weeks premature and rushed to the special care nursery and we would not see it till much later. What’s more, my recovery would be much worse.
Decisions, decisions.
I said a silent prayer to God.
I knew then that I wanted to be awake for my baby’s birth, no matter what.
One more jab. Then I felt it, the pins and needles tingling down my legs. The spinal block worked. Hallelujah! A huge sign of relief was exhaled by all. How joyous I was that I couldn’t feel my legs anymore.
My partner was allowed in and I was comforted to no longer be alone in a room full of medical staff in butcher’s outfits. My eyes fixed on my partners face as I kept asking him if it was a boy or girl? With one final tug, the baby was out and the smile on his face was bigger than Texas. ‘It’s a BOY!’ he yelled.
Our newborn son proceeded to pee all over the surgeons.
I thanked my obstetrician for delivering baby X in good health then pleaded to him, ‘sew me skinny’.
And so my new job as Mum began.