Ok, she's finally zonked out. My milk has come up and she looks utterly drunk when she's full. Her name is Inés, by the way.
I've been dying to share the birth story with you, as my first one was rather grim, and I did not feel I wanted to. Here we go: As you know, I had given up hope that the baby would come while my parents were here. I think we left it with the swipe on Friday (and the swipestake - who won, by the way? 
), but i was not holding my breath. That night, I went to bed thinking about plan B (for Diego, as his GPs would be going back to spain and not able to look after him) and thinking that, hell, at least I'd get good night sleep.
At three in the morning I woke up feeling tightness in my belly, but thought it was the baby stretching (she's not stopped moving all pregnancy!). Tried really hard to go back to sleep, but at 3;30 it was pretty clear I was having contractions, and the show showed up. The contractions were coming regularly, so I whispered "I think this is it" in DP's ear. DP woke up and got his laptop out to follow the Australian Open while I contracted. He also set up a contraction counter in his iPhone (did I mention he is a bit of a geek?). The contractions were perfectly manageable with breathing, and we were both keen not to go to hospital till they were pretty established. By 6:30 I said to DP that I could do with some pain relief cos it was getting tough. DP (firmly on geek mode) replied that we should wait till there was a clear pattern of at least 2 contractions every 5 mins before going. I was contracting, so couldn't argue.
At 7:30 I said we were going - he saw I meant it and did not dare pulling stats. We woke up my dad, who drove us to hospital - 5 minutes away (I was beyond walking). Upon arrival a lovely midwife examined me and said I was about 2 to 3 cm. I was dismayed, because I was hoping to have reached at least 5, but she said she'd stretch my cervix, as it was very soft and it would probably progress quickly. She stimulated the hell out of my cervix, which was rather painful, but the contractions did continue firmer and longer, so it was clear I was progressing.
At that point I asked whether the nice room with the birthing pool (that looks like a huge jacuzzi) was free, fully expecting it wouldn't be, but alas, it was! I went in, they started filling the pool and I got a ball and a matt to deal with the contractions, which were pretty painful by now. I asked for gas and air, took a swig, was violently sick and desisted. Fortunately, 45 minutes later the pool was full, and just as the contractions were unbearable I went in. It was a wonderful feeling, although the contractions were still horrendous. The midwife was lovely and supportive, as was the student with her. She rubbed my back just the right way, DP played nice music.
The midwife was keen to listen to the baby's heart, which required me to sit up, but at that point I was in so much pain that I really couldn't do other than crawl in the pool like a creature in the primeval soup. I held the heart monitor against my belly in between contractions myself, and barked "how much more of this to go? It's unbearable". She asked me if I wanted to be examined so that she could tell me, but that entailed getting out of the pool, so I said no. Then, I felt the urge to push. Or rather, my body started pushing and all I could do is to (continue) screaming my lungs out, which really seemed to help, to be honest, although I am now embarrassed to think of the subhuman ululations that must have been heard throughout King's College Hospital. Soon, I could feel the head stretching my pelvic bones. Two pushes later, she was out. It was only 9:39, but I had completely lost track of time.
The midwife fished her out and put her on me. She looked confused for a bit and then screamed. She was like a little red alien with a flat nose. I decided to get out of the pool, realised that I was on schedule for my parents (who were out for a walk with a happy Diego) to meet her before going to the airport, so I asked to be given an injection for 3rd stage (plus I was fed up of contractions and pushing by that point). The midwife waited till the chord stopped pulsating and clamped it. The DP cut it. He held and cuddled Ines while I got out of the pool, and lied on the bed (for the first time) to be stitched up (had a 2nd degree tear). While they were doing the reconstruction downstairs, Ines was placed on top of me and she latched on.
At 11:30 Petros went to the hospital entrance, collected Diego from my parents and took him for lunch while they came up to meet their grand daughter. My dad gasped at the pool like a Spanish dad, but was too delighted to be there to make further comments.
At 13:00 a taxi collected them and took them to the airport.
At 14:30 Diego and DP came to collect me, and I was discharged. Diego was delighted to meet his sister, and it was incredibly sweet to see.
At 15:00 I was feeding her in my bed, while sipping a cup of tea.
I'd say that's pretty good project management, wouldn't you agree?
Now, I am sleep deprived and have sore stitches, but have managed the, erm, fatal first poo, so I am on my way to recovery. Ines is an angel during the day and wants to party at night :(, so expect a few posts coming asking for advice on co-sleeping and puke, instilling a sense of day and night, and "is my latch ok?"