My C-Section:Unfiltered! Part 1

‘We’re going to take you for an emergency cesarean’ were words I NEVER thought I’d hear! My name is Mikaela and I wanted to share my C-Section story to show women that, although C-Sections are scary (there’s no doubt about that), you WILL get through it and you’ll learn to love your war wounds … as they gave you the most incredible gift on Earth! 

I was very lucky during my pregnancy, the sickness wasn’t pleasant but other than that I had no issues. My birthing plan was straightforward; get the baby out…simple! Or so I thought. I knew giving birth wasn’t going to be easy, but I never expected I’d have a C-Section.

How it all started:

A quick check up at 36-weeks with the midwife, all fine, back in the car, and I didn’t even turn the key before the car seat was soaked. Yup, you guessed it, my waters broke. A hospital trip later (where I had to explain that I don’t make a habit of wetting myself) the midwife confirmed that my waters had indeed broken so I was sent home to see if labour started naturally. It didn’t.

The next day I went back to the hospital (with all my bags) to be induced. First a pessary, then oxytocin (slowly increased to maximum permitted levels), and finally the epidural (which gave me great relief), but still we waited…and waited…and waited. A day and a half and I still wasn’t dilated enough. After a final check with two midwives and a doctor, they decided it was time. I should have known this was coming, but I was in shock; they told me whilst my hubby was out of the room and I freaked out, burst into tears and struggled to calm myself (I don’t tend to do that). I’d never really had surgery before; the most I’d had was three stitches in my little finger, but I pulled myself together once my husband returned, then the rest was a whirlwind.

Everything happened so fast:

Midwives, an anaesthetist, doctors – all with friendly smiles, all talking to me (and each other). My lower body was numbed with some amazing drugs, and then to theatre I went. Once on the table, it took 10 minutes and our baby was out, they checked him over; he was perfect, but I was uncomfortable while they stitched (which I later realised wasn’t normal). Was it in my head, I wondered, and stupidly sat still silently panicking, before turning to my husband with more tears and finally expressing my pain. Thankfully the anaesthetist quickly gave me gas and air and a bit of morphine: that worked well! He asked me why I hadn’t said something sooner, and why hadn’t I? Embarrassment? Not wanting to inconvenience anyone? Thought I was being a drama queen? I have no idea.

Before I knew it I was off the table and back into bed, my little one in my arms and I’d never felt so happy. Everything I’d just experienced over the last three days didn’t matter anymore, he was finally here. The sweet tea and toast also tasted amazing, being the first thing I’d eaten in two days. That night was a blur of breastfeeding attempts, checks, injections and jolty sleep (it’s like constantly dreaming that you’ve fallen off a curb).

The next morning they moved me onto the ward. I was still pretty drugged up, though I felt good all things considered. Getting out of bed was a struggle (and apparently should have been done within the first few hours), but I could walk, hunched, but walking nonetheless. I even managed a shower with a lot of help from my hubby. 

Evening came and the pain kicked in; the painkillers had worn off and all that was offered was paracetamol and ibuprofen (and I had to ask for the ibuprofen). They took the edge off, but every movement, no matter how slow, hurt. I asked my hubby to stay the night so he could lift our baby, change his nappies and help me position him to feed – this was a lifesaver, I don’t know how women would do it otherwise! On the plus side, I’d also managed my first post-baby poo (holding onto my wound for dear life).

Somehow it was then the morning and after our baby had been fully checked over we were off, but not before I was given six weeks of injections to help prevent clotting, (this was quite a shock as I’d been told 10 days), a bucket load of painkillers, and a mound of notes! I was so happy! I had been in for 3 nights, which felt like a lifetime … but everything was all OK and we were on the path of parenthood!

Part 2 to come on Friday… (a burst heamatoma, how I coped at home, and getting back to life)

x Mikaela – Mummy to Brannon, born at NNUH on 1 June 2017 x