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Becoming Mummy ...

Updated: Apr 8

Somehow it still doesn’t feel real that I’m someone’s Mother. A whole Me. After 10 months of pregnancy you would assume that I had grasped that fact that a little boy would be calling me mummy, yet I catch myself freaking out a little bit when I remember. Not a bad freaking out of course. Well, only sometimes. It’s funny because everything you hear about how horrendous the first few weeks of motherhood are is true. Everything. And then it’s not at all. Does that make sense? During our Birth Preparation class at the hospital, the midwife told us that we would cry every day. I laughed but then I realised she wasn’t laughing. At all. She was very serious. Then I thought well she can speak for herself then. Not me boy. That’s what I thought. Ha … ha.

I can remember my labour so vividly. My due date came and unfortunately so did a urine infection. I rushed to the hospital because I was genuinely in agony but also hoping little man would make an appearance. 4 hours and 2 drips later, I sat in GBK eating a burger, fries and a large vanilla milkshake. No baby and 1000 antibiotics to take. I had already been booked in for an induction (basically the process to start labour going) the week after so I was pretty sure after that that I would just have to wait until then. The days in between just dragged. All until the day before when I woke up with a dire need to go to the toilet but when I went nothing was coming out. I had had shito the night before and I'm convinced that's what started my labour. My Ghanaians will know Shito is notttt a game. This was then followed by immense pressure. The pressure intensified as my eyes widened; contractions. I couldn’t actually believe it. My sister, being the amazing videographer that she is started filming me after about an hour of screaming in bed. I phoned triage to tell them my contractions started, at that point they were for 40 seconds every 10 minutes. Not close enough they said. DO YOU KNOW HOW CLOSE THEY FEEL? I wanted to scream. But of course, decorum and that.

An hour or so later I started bleeding. I had been told if I bleed to come straight in but when I phoned triage they said not to. I didn’t understand why they weren’t taking what I was saying seriously. BLOOD was coming out of me and they said to just continue to monitor it. As if my name is CCTV. Still, I obeyed. An hour goes by, it’s around 6pm and we’re all restless. Everyone has been waiting for me to give birth and my family were all in disbelief that triage weren’t telling me to come in. In the end my mum said that we should just go because I’m bleeding and better safe than sorry, which I agreed with. So my sister whipped out her camera as I began beating my face. I was determined to get one of those cute insta pics. You know the ones where the mum has the cute lashes and effortless beat? That was going to be me. Again, Ha … ha.

We arrived at the hospital and I was greeted by 2 Ghanaian midwives. Now as a Ghanaian myself it was extremely comforting. They were so lovely. Proper aunties. Unfortunately for me my contractions, which were quite intense at home, had completely slowed down by this point and were less frequent. However, they said they didn’t see the point of me going home so they would put me on the ward. Things just started to feel more and more surreal from then on. By now it was late and settled down for bed because little man was making no signs of coming. “We go again tomorrow” I thought; in agony, but just not as much or as often.

The next day I was woken up by the sounds of a loud Irish woman who was in the cubicle next to me. She was talking about a court case and some other really personal stuff. I felt for her. Who wants to be having those kind of conversations in hospital? PREGNANT? I heard her saying she was 6 months pregnant and then was slightly confused as to why we were in the same room. I think, in all honesty the midwives did me a favour keeping me in. The staff came and asked me what I wanted for breakfast and I was quite surprised at the variety. Don’t get me wrong it was like plane food but plane food that was in 1st class at least. I could bore you with the details of this day but all it was PAIN. My contractions were so inconsistent so they decided to insert a pessary which is like a long but small tampon which has hormones which help induce labour. The only thing is then my contractions were too fast. I asked for pain relief with the QUICKNESS. Gas and Air. Beloved, I was WAITING for this. When I tell you there are some very shameful videos of me rapping “P2J Project – Hands In The Air” (BIG tune) and other Channel U classics - that’s how you know it was real. I mean, I would on a normal day but that gas and air definitely had me feeling like I was Ms Dynami-te-he. They took the pessary out and then the contractions slowed down. Day 2 of full contractions and I was EXHAUSTED.

So it’s like 6am now on Day 3 at the hospital and I honestly want to cry. I’ve probably slept 2 hours because of the discomfort and I honestly just want to see my baby. I was 41 weeks and 1 day pregnant, I’d been on gas and air for over 24 hours and it wasn't even working anymore. Imagine? My mum came in the room and immediately started asking the medical staff what they were doing to help. I love her man. In her words my eyes were “bulging out of my head” and she just wanted me to get help. I had said at EVERY single appointment that I’d had that I didn’t want an epidural or a C-section and I think they were honestly trying to honour that but I just wasn’t dilating quick enough. Then I heard words that honestly broke my heart, “His heart rate is dropping we need to move fast, you’re going to need an emergency C-section”.

The only way I would have ever had a C-section was if my son needed me to have it. I would have continued on in pain if it meant he could be delivered naturally but it just wasn’t the way God intended it. After the epidural I honestly didn’t feel any pain, however I did feel a lot of sadness (I speak more about my mental health effects in my post called A B C-section D-pression have a read!) as I felt I had failed. Nonetheless I was wheeled in for surgery at midday and my son was born at 12.14 on January 23rd, the quickest experience ever. They lifted him up and he let out the smallest cry then went quiet. I immediately started crying. I said I was just happy but it was a bunch of things. I didn’t get the immediate skin to skin because they took him and weighed him straight away. When I did get to hold him it was from an angle with him being passed to me above my shoulder, I hated it. I wanted my baby properly.

Regardless, he is here and he is so perfect. My Gosh it has been HARD but his smile, I promise you I cannot describe the joy it brings to me. He is so happy when he sees me and that kind of love is indisputable. I would go to the end of the earth for my little boy, my why.

Love you always Little Lion Cub

P x

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