At 32 weeks I was suddenly admitted to hospital with sky high blood pressure. Then my waters broke a bit but there wasn't really much sign of anything happening. I was carrying twins so they thought that maybe just a bit had leaked out from one of them.
The previous week I'd had swine flu (remember that?!) and a UTI. I started getting tummy pain; they put a belt on me and had a look and said, "well it's not labour" so maybe a UTI again.
Pain was getting worse. Then the consultant turned up and said they'd send me for an ultrasound just to see what was going on with the sacs. Although I was in the maternity ward, they actually sent me to the regular scan clinic which was literally on the other side of the hospital. I asked for pain relief but the nurses said they'd give me some paracetamol after the scan. I think they thought I was being a wuss. I remember saying to them, "this really does hurt quite a lot now".
So, in my dressing gown, massive twin baby bump, tummy hurting like a motherfucker, I walked right over to the other side of the hospital to wait my turn in the scan clinic.
It was full of expectant mums - who all seemed to be really young for some reason! - who'd popped in for appointments on lunch breaks from work etc. Neatly dressed in workwear etc, all happy and positive.
The toilet was right next to the waiting chairs, only separated by a door - you literally pissed on the other side of the wall. I nipped into the toilet and was suddenly hit by an enormous wave of pain and I accidentally let out a giant fucking roar in agony. I forgot that a single thin wall wasn't going to be soundproof. Composed myself and opened the toilet door and all these women were just STARING at me.
I looked like the wild woman of Bourneo. I shuffled back to my seat while everyone studiously ignored me.
The pain was starting to get worse and worse so I kept bending over double groaning. I think they must have thought I'd escaped from being held captive in a cage somewhere.
I walked all the back to the ward and said, "look, I really do need some pain relief please" - they insisted on checking again "just in case" and I was nearly fully dilated. They tried to put me in a wheelchair to go in the lift to go downstairs to delivery which was literally RIGHT below the ward. I hate lifts. I said "you've just made me walk the entire bastard length of the hospital twice, I can definitely manage a flight of stairs".
Got to Delivery and things got a bit manic. Had pethidine and gas/air but things weren't going well so had an emergency c-section. I was absolutely off my face and sky-high. I had an inhaler tucker in my bra and a nurse kept trying to take it out. I remember saying to her, "you just really want to look at my tits don't you? Go on, admit it..."
And then the surgeon turned up and he was a very, VERY posh, older gentleman who didn't seem to like the mess of pregnant women very much. I'm willing to consider the fact it was just me he wasn't fond of. When he positioned himself by my nether regions for the first time he very clearly said, "Oh. This is very hairy. Can someone deal with this please?"
(I mean, huge twin bump, I'd split up with my ex during pregnancy. I had no idea what was going on down there. I hadn't seen anything below my belly button for months).
The delivery room was rammed with people as it was a premature delivery and there was one team per baby. I also live in a place where everyone seems to know each other. I'm sure that when I go into town even now people nudge each other and say "pssst.....that's the hairy one....".
Four weeks after I gave birth - when I should still have been 36 weeks pregnant - I received my appointment for my 36 week scan. My brother reckoned I should have gone along, had the scan and said "what do you mean they're not there?!" 😅