I'm going to have to back track now so that the story of Mabel's birth is complete.
So what did happen on Monday night?
After a long day of not very much we did indeed go to bed and watch 'Modern Family' for some light hearted relief from the waiting and in the hope that humour would help bring on contractions. After watching too many episodes at about midnight we finally decided that it wasn't going to happen any time soon and that we should try and get some sleep.
When we got there the midwives were absolutely lovely. They checked the bleeding and weren't too concerned, apparently it may have been Mabel pulling on the chord and this was showing since my waters had gone. That pesky baby always was a handful in the womb.
Now, for those who aren't fully offay with labour timings, with a first baby you are looking at about an hour per centimetre and aiming to get to 10. So we thought we had a while to go. However, we get to the room, I nip for a wee and suddenly feel a massive urge to push. Turns out that in the space of about 25 mins I had got to the 10 and was at the final hurdle (I have since asked Gaz if he reckons I have a good uterus due to raspberry leaf tea - he said he wasn't sure how to answer that question) . Don't think I have ever been so pleased (and now looking back slightly concerned that if we had waited until 6am at home I think Mabel may well have either been born in the car or in an ambulance). G Kisby had a major rush to the car to get our bag just to stop me delivering Mabel in a little black jumper dress and leggings! Pretty much may as well have had my coat on.
And I won't go into too much detail of the rest. G Kisby needless to say made it back from the car in time, I changed into a more appropriate vest and Mabel was born at 8.20am after a very reasonable hour or so at the end. We had a lovely, if a little stern midwife who really helped me in a way she'll never realise.
I asked, "how much longer, how many more contractions?" - looking for some moral support / a bit of motivation.
She answered, "well that depends on how many pushes you get from each one" (I then heard her say to the student nurse, "she is currently only getting 2 so...)
ONLY getting 2. Suddenly my competitive streak sprung into action.
ONLY getting 2 you say, we'll see.
G Kisby relays that I then became obsessed in between contractions with asking how many I'd got and how good they were, including exclamations like,
"that one was good wasn't it!"
and "right, next one is going to be the best one you've seen yet"
verging on "how good am I"
So labour was good. The hypno birthing bits helped even if the exact circumstances weren't as we had wanted (no birth pool, lighting not quite as dimmed etc). The breathing definitely helped and I am 100% certain that the whole mind over matter and belief in my body's ability to do it made all the difference. Two codine tablets and a swig of gas - I'm pretty pleased with that . And also G Kisby's role in the whole thing, I don't think I could have done it without him. He was absolutely fantastic; supported me through every single contraction, reminded me to relax and breathe, told me how well I was doing and kept me drinking water. All of that despite the fact that he couldn't take his eyes off the wall behind my head or even turn towards where anything was happening. When asked if he wanted to cut the chord I practically heard him hold back a heave.
No-one can describe or even try to articulate the emotions you feel at that moment. It genuinely was for both of us the most emotional moment of our lives (our wedding we agreed is a close runner up but emotional in a different way since spread out over a period of time). I still struggle to talk or think about it without wanting to cry. Though notably I am on day 3 today so pretty much anything makes me cry. A baby girl, a beautiful perfect baby girl, who was passed to us making these little snorting noises and looking so scared to be out of her safe world. G Kisby couldn't hold back tears and I seem to remember my whole body shaking uncontrollably.
I am almost, I say almost, sad that my labour has past, truly amazing.
On my lovely philosophy shower gel that Mum gave to me for Christmas it says,
'Have a baby if you no longer believe in miracles' - too true.
So that was how it happened. It was followed by a bit of a blood loss incident which then meant I wasn't quite as copus mentus to update the blog straight away. In fact, it did take a couple of bags of blood and a few days to get my iron levels back up to the level of not needing someone to accompany me to the toilet.
We have some pictures of Mabel's first day at home which I will add tomorrow but for now, some more pictures of our gorgeous girl are below: