I’ve been trying to write my birth story for a while.
The truth is, it was over two years ago and I’m still so traumatised by it I can’t seem to get it out. I think about it every day, it truly haunts me.
My kitchen window looks out onto my little garden, it’s not huge, but it’s green and it’s outside, that’s enough for me. Sometimes when Big D is being his usual irritating self and hanging around making me feel miserable, I catch myself staring into space, having a good think. Today was no exception.
I started thinking about when I became a mummy.
Me and the hubbo didn’t think we could have children, to this day I still don’t ovulate but I had one lucky egg in February 2014. And a lot of wine on the hubbo’s birthday… And seven weeks later we had the shock of our lives.
I was booked in for a laparoscopy in March 2014 to try and see why my ovaries wouldn’t release any eggs. I was gowned up, ready to be wheeled in, and the nurse said she had best check my wee just to make sure. She walked into the ensuite loo, was chattering away about how she’d make me a lovely cup of tea when I woke up. And she went quiet.
“Oh. Blimey” she said, followed by a long pause.
“Umm, did you know you’re pregnant?”
I cried, hubbo cried, she cried. “Congratulations” she said. But in my head it was just another of my bodies wicked tricks. There was something seriously wrong and my body thought it was pregnant.
I’m going to die, I thought, it’s really bad.
Pretty much the whole hospital came in to congratulate us, hug us, kiss us, but I was so scared. Yes, I’d pissed on six sticks by this point, but I still didn’t believe it.
My consultant, the amazing Mr P came in, said that the surgery wouldn’t go ahead and he was going to scan me. Off we plodded to the scan room, everyone smiling at us, I just felt numb. I was in total shock.
I lay on the bed, cold jelly squeezed over my tummy, over the pen marks where I had been marked for surgery. Hubbo held my hand. We watched the screen, and then we saw it.
A little baked bean. Bobbing about in my belly.
I cried, hubbo cried.
“Well, congratulations” said Mr P, “you are going to have a baby, well done Mummy and Daddy”.
I was happy, I was over the moon. But I was SCARED. What if something happened?
This was my one shot at being a mummy, and I wouldn’t relax until our baby was here.
To be continued… x