Welcome, Leo!

Leo's Ticker: 19 1/2 Hours to Having My Baby

4/11; 9:30pm: So tired I'm shaking, I give up on the day and decide to go to sleep right away. By the time I've made it up the stairs, I've had the first mini contraction. Other signs within the next five minutes. Straight to bed hoping for a bit of sleep before it gets serious. Sleep never happens. Instead, Tara joins me. I take to wandering around, wondering how strong contractions should be - after all, Tara was induced so I have no idea what I'm looking for.

5/11; 1am: Finally worked up the courage to call the hospital (still feeling ridiculous as contractions are so painless if regular and long). I'm just planning on discussing the character of serious business with my midwife (whom I have to request via the hospital ward). They hear 'homebirth' and say that someone will call me back right away.

1:50am: I'm starting to wonder whatever happened to my call back as the midwife arrives. Bit more than I bargained for at this stage... I mean, I get to ask the questions I wanted to ask, but I'm still feeling a bit silly and insignificant, which her examination confirms: I'm only 2cm dilated and what I call 'cramps', she calls 'niggles', so two hours later, she is off back home, and I'm left with instructions to take a paracetamol, aim for some sleep, and call her back when the niggles become contractions.

6:30 am: Tara wakes up, I've slept for maybe an hour. I spend the next 2 1/2 hours lying on my side, suffering insilence for 50-70 seconds every so often, relaxing in between and dozing back off - totally lost all sense of time.

9am: Tara is off to nursery, I start timing contractions and work out that vocalising works a lot better than suffering in silence.

11am: Contractions have been strong, loud and regular all this time - in a sudden surge of panic I know it's time to request the midwife, Lou. She is there five minutes later, watches me, examines me and confirms: fully dilated. She expects the baby to arrive within the next half hour. I panic and want to cry: I can't imagine this happening, I'm scared of the pain, and I can't imagine, after all this, that there actually will be a baby. Contractions start to slow down.

12pm: The second midwife arrives (one for me, one for the baby). Contractions have slowed down to nothing much at all, but Baby Leo's heart rate is perfect - at least one of us is happy.

12-3pm: Another examinations shows that I am not fully delated after all - one tiny "lip" remains. The midwives are full of ideas as to what we can do to get the contractions back. I eat something. I eat enery bars and sugary stuff. I bounce on the ball. I walk around and up and down the stairs. I try every feasible position that makes use of gravity. Nothing but the odd short weak contraction. As a last measure, Lou breaks my waters - it scares me: This is how Tara's birth was kick started and it hurt a lot. Even more scary: There is a time limit attached to it. If I do not deliver the baby within the next 30 minutes, I will have to transfer to hospital for a hormone drip. I don't want to go to hospital. I'm scared shitless. I'm scared contraction-less. I do as I'm told and try and bounce and try but there is no contraction worth mentioning. I can't imagine this happening. I can't imagine the baby. I try to call up a mental image of my baby but there's just one big blank space.

3:00pm: Another mercyful 15 minute deadline to calling the ambulance. Jose is getting the bag together as per my instructions; I'd only packed the bare essentials before. This nightgown. Those pyjamas. Waterbottle. Snacks. Jeans.

3:15: They're calling the ambulance. I start crying and can't stop. Jose panics. He's convinced I'll end up with a cesarian if I waste my last energies on howling like this. I'm full of horror scenarios too - I'm already right inside one. Lou jokes about how rickety ambulance rides often bring contractions back, and how babies are born in them. My baby is not among them, even though we travel in style, and my body rewards the ambulance for switching its sirens on for us with a few contractions.

4pm: Handed over to hospital staff, examined, hooked up to drip and monitors. I let them do as they see fit -I don't fancy any of this any more; it's not my labour any more. Mayby I should some consider pain relief now.

4:15pm: Labour resumes with proper contractions. I'm still frustrated and tired and rather disinterrested, except when Leo's heartrate dips to what sounds like close to nothing. Very scary. Ca 4:50pm, pushing starts and I'm fully alert within a second. It's happening! I'm no longer worried about pain but sucked into the intensity of the experience. I feel his head making progress. I feel it crowning. I ask for his hair colour. I remember in an abstract way how it hurt with Tara, and how i was shouting "I'm burning I'm burning!"... I feel his head coming through... brief panting... a little body slithering out...

17:00 (sharp): ....within one eternally long push contraction, Leo is born and delivered right onto my chest. I greet him with an avalanche of made-up terms of endearment that all sum up to the same thing I greeted Tara with: "My baby! My baby! My beautiful baby!"



19:30: Leo has suckled for 90 minutes (5 blisters for me to start off on), and we've chosen Gabriel for his middle name. Tara Olivia and Leo Gabriel. I have a shower and stand there smiling to to myself: He looks like a copy of Tara, and that is a very good thing. When I come back into the room, feeling like I've been miraculiously restored to being a whole healthy person after a long period of illness, Jose greets me: "I've already called him 'Tara.'"
Our boy, Leo. I hope life treats you well. We will do our best.



Tara's Ticker: 27 Hours to Big Sister

5/11; 6:30: Tara wakes up and says: "Who's coming to our house today?" "I think Baby Leo is coming today, and Oma Gisela is coming tomorrow," I reply. "But I want Oma Gisela to come today, and Leo tomorrow," Tara complains. I agree, but there's not much I can do about it now. Tara takes off to find her dad and request daddy-made pancakes for breakfast.

7:30: Tara is back on the bed for a cuddle. I'm in the middle of a contraction and tell her not to touch me right now. She cries and is comforted after the contraction ebbs away; I'm glad we've discussed her brother coming out of mummy's tummy and it hurting before. Would she like to go to nursery to play with her friends, or would she like to stay home and wait for Leo? Nursery, she chooses happily, and is off to play with dad some more.

8:00: Nursery opens. I phone to ask how soon I can drop Tara off. Right away. It's a relief. Can I get this birth over with by 3pm?

8:30: A very chirpy Tara is off to nursery. I miss my good-bye-have-fun kiss.

14:30: Call to nursery to confirm Tara can stay till 5pm (instead of 3pm).

16:15: Call to Rebecca. "Are you in labour?!" - "I'm at the hospital. Can you pick Tara up?"

16:39: Text from Rebecca: "I've got Tara we're waiting for Caden to finish football and then we'll go home. She's fine so far so don't worry. x"

17:27: Rebecca: "Tara is very pleased with her new brother. We've taken her to tell nursery she's cuddling Carter now!"

17:50: R: "Tara is home now playing. She's fine here as long as you need. I'll put her in pj's and she can sleep with Carter or on the sofa. She's going to have some chips and watch peppa pig! Don't worry about Tara and well done! x"

18:43: R: "Take your time she's fine. She's no bother at all.x"

18:??: R: "Tara happy eating chips and beetroot. We're impressed!"

19:55: R; "Tara fed, washed in sleepsuit given to her by Carter and has a new green toothbrush. And fast asleep on my sofa. No rush she'll be fine till Jose is ready.x"

6/11; 9:30am: Tara and Papi arrive at the hospital to pick Leo and Mami up. When I hear their voices outside the room asking for us, I start crying, just a little. Tara climbs right onto the bed, beaming smiles, stretches her arms out for her brother, holds him and gives him a kiss.