As the dust settles and I feel human again. I feel I can write this. Let’s start this of by giving my husband the most love here. What he did Sunday was something I wouldn’t even have been able to do, our survival instinct and my mother instinct kicked in for real and how he handled the whole situation, I thought I loved him a lot already but this brought us so much closer together and my heart is bursting with love.
Sunday the 22nd of September 2019, at 4:25 am I gave birth to our daughter Lyanna. The birth was, one of a kind and let me start by saying. This’ll get graphic.
Saturday at 11pm I started getting contractions that weren’t far apart. So we called in to our hospital at 1am that is ten minutes away by car. We go in and I explain that I’m having contractions, the midwife decides to start tracking them and after 15 minutes, she decides that they were too irregular to be admitted. At 2am she gives me a cocktail, which is just five pills and tells me to take them and go home and sleep. This part, I believe I was an idiot and took them. Thinking I probably was overreacting and labour was far from my future. So we go home to get some rest. Dines reminded me to take the midwifes advise and “work with the Braxton Hicks and not distract myself from them” – something I didn’t.
At 3:30 I decided to take a bath to help with the irregular contractions. But not soon after I decided to leave the bath and I wrote to our upstairs neighbor, she’s a midwife and someone I trust with my kids enough to listen to her. Ironically her telephone was in the living room and she was asleep because it was 3:45 am. So I just sit in it and try to “work with the contractions” – suddenly it’s 4:20 and I get this urge to push. Let’s face it women, it feels like you have to take a large ass shit. So I start pushing and BOOM, I look down and there, a beautiful head is on its way out.
remember, THIS IS IN OUR BATHROOM IN OUR APARTMENT. That was the first push and Dines is faster than ever to call the hospital, who tells him to call 112. On the other line, a midwife is trying to guide him, and also calling an ambulance. Dines, I think just looks at me and after being together for so long, knows what to say and what not to say. So he says “push” and with that push, the rest of our daughter leaves me, Dines is the one that received her, like a proper midwife. She was born in a “sejrsskjorte“, which means she was born in her amniotic sac. Now I’m a person who believes in supernatural stuff and all these other things, so I believe she is born with good luck around her.
30 seconds later the ambulance arrives and take one look at suggest we get me to the hospital. But not before I give birth to the placenta because why the fuck not? Our bathroom already looks like a scene from Dexter, sooooooo let’s just get it done with. Once the placenta is out, they cut her umbilical cord… With our kitchen scissors. They left theirs on our kitchen table. But to be fair, I was losing a fair share of blood and they were scared that my uterus was not going to be stay attached to me.
This was my first time in an ambulance and damn I waited 27 years and Lyanna waited 5 minutes. Clearly I’m never doing that again.
But we arrive at the hospital and we are greeted by… No one! They are all setting up for me and who should be the face I see. Of course the midwife who sent me home. But I’m to focused on, you know, my blood and daughter. They give me IV, take some blood, test her, weigh her and measure her. They talk about sending me to observation, I protest because I’m me. We end up not going to observation because I promise to take my iron tablets and call if I start feeling like I’m fainting or sick. So at 12pm I’m allowed to leave.
Her weight at birth was 4612g and she was measured to 53cm.
Now it’s 11 days later and she weighs 4.8kg and measured 54cm this morning.