Hi guys
This is likely to end up being an essay - don't feel the need to read but I thought writing it down would be helpful for me (and hopefully anyone else reading that is experiencing anything similar). There are a couple of bits that are a bit uncomfortable to read and I hope I don't upset anyone.
So I ended up being induced at 42 weeks. They took me in on the Sunday and gave me the pessary that afternoon. On examination at 10pm I was 3cm and favourable for breaking waters. However, the labour suite was rammed, so they suggested I go to sleep for the night and they'd take me down in the morning. Sleep? Haha, not on a ward with noisy newborns and a girl in the bed next to me in early labour pain. The next day, they didn't take me down to the labour suite until 4pm. Whilst waiting, I took a bit of a funny turn (I've had it before, usually due to too much alcohol, or not eating enought), where my tongue felt weird in my mouth, I felt faint and sick and a bit 'out of it'. I went for some fresh air and dismissed it.
We went down to the labour suite at 4pm and they broke my waters around 5pm. They left me for an hour to see if that would kick start things - nada. So they started me on the syntocin drip. At this point, I was tired and bored, but otherwise no complaints. The drip kicked in after an hour or so, then it was full steam ahead on contractions. I contracted for what I think a couple of hours or so, but quickly proceeded to what I presume was transition (apparently kept complaining about needing a jobby NOW). Vague memory of asking for them to help me with the pain, at which point I was introduced to the gas and air. I have very hazy memories of the birth after this point. I can only describe it as the real me leaving my body behind and going to hide somewhere, leaving a shell to continue with the birth. The contractions were nothing compared to that primal and terrifying urge to push. If I felt anything, it was a complete loss of control. My husband says they were prepping me for forceps delivery due to drop in baby's heartbeat, but I managed to push him out at 11.15pm before consultant arrived to do this, which I do recall and can only describe as being disemboweled).
Apparently we were in the delivery room for a further 4 hours or so whilst they tried to identify source of some bleeding (I lost just under 2 pints but not enough to require a transfusion, just a course of iron tablets), and stitching up an episiotomy and some labial tearing. When he was born they put the wee guy up on to me, but because of the unidentified bleeding they took him off me pretty quickly and gave him to my husband for skin to skin. Finally around 4am they attempted some skin to skin with me but we didn't manage a feed (he rooted but no attachment).
Over the next day (Tuesday), I sat in the ward feeling that I still hadn't come back into myself after the birth (when I said above I feel like I had left my body, I meant it, and I felt that I hadn't come back into it). When I looked in the mirror I couldn't see 'me'.
I continued to try to feed over the next 2 days in the hospital. It wasn't going well (attachment being the biggest issue) and I was expressing colostrum by hand and pump as well. I didn't sleep at any point in the hospital (not for lack of trying but either the wee man was trying to feed or it was too noisy in the ward).
We got discharged on the Thursday morning. I tried to get some sleep at some point during the day on Thursday but I had another funny turn (feeling of dread/tongue large in mouth) and couldn't do it. Whilst trying to feed, I also started fixating on some completely irrelevant stuff (need to buy toothpaste, wanting to put an old rocking chair onto freecycle to get rid of it). During Thursday night I called the midwife helpline as I was concerned that the wee man wasn't attaching properly and so wasn't getting fed.
On the Friday morning the midwife arrived and weighed him and his weight had dropped to 13% below birthweight, so they referred us up to pediatrics at the hospital (having only just been discharged the day before!) and they gave us a plan to 'top up' his breastmilk with formula to get him back to birthweight. I was still fixating on other irrelevant things rather than our son's dehydration. I made sure I picked up the bloody toothpaste whilst making emergency trip for formula milk on the way home from hospital!
Back home on the Friday evening, my mum visited and she saw that I was shaking while trying to feed the wee man and my hands were completely white and freezing (I wasn't aware of this). My husband and I had worked out a wee plan for husband to take over for the formula top up so I could snatch some sleep until the next breastfeed, and I attempted to do so again (at this point I hadn't slept for 6 days). I lay there and started getting the dread feelings again, and the shaking got worse so that I couldn't stop it. I started having really frightening thoughts (not suicidal/homicidal exactly, but picturing what it would be like to crash car on the motorway with me and the wee man in it) and began hyperventilating. I didn't have a clue what was happening to me and I was torn between the feelings of 'I need to tell my husband about this right now and get some help' and 'oh my god, if I tell him, they'll take my baby away from me'. Thankfully the first feeling was stronger, and I went through to the other room where my husband and baby were feeding and basically broke down in front of him. He calmed me down and got me to call triage, and they told us to get ourselves back up to the hospital straight away.
I was admitted to the maternity ward (private room!) for a few more days, given sleeping pills and a course of anti-anxiety medication to get me back to myself, and we made the decision to abandon breastfeeding (we could have looked at pumping but priority for us all was to get me healthy so I could look after the wee man properly - my birth plan was 'health baby, healthy mother please').
Since getting home from hospital from the second time, I've had loads of support from my husband mum and mum in law with household stuff, so that I can concentrate on getting my strength up and bonding with my wee boy (in that first week, I was in such a state that he was almost an afterthought in my mind). Formula feeding is going well (other than being a phaff making the stuff up!) - he's a wee guzzler feeding 4-5oz around 7/8 times a day and he weighed 8lb8oz at his last check up on Friday (he was 7lb6oz at birth!). It is a shame that I gave up on breastfeeding, but it was the right decision for us in the circumstances.
I'm getting follow up support from the perinatal psych team in the community to monitor my progress and check that what happened to me was a 'one off' triggered by my reaction to the birth/sleep deprivation.
Looking back (it was only a couple of weeks ago but seems like months), I feel like we essentially lost that first week, and it was in coming out of hospital for the second time that our parenting journey really started. Throughtout the whole experience my husband has been amazing. He saw his wife go from normal (whatever that is) to completely broken down in a space of a few days, but he has helped me build myself back up again. I can look in the mirror now and see me again (albeit, as a tired mother now), which is a huge relief.
I've simplified a lot of what happened otherwise this would the longest post ever put on mumsnet, but above gives the gist of it. On the face of it, you could have just said 'oh she has the baby blues', but it most certainly wasn't!
Phew! That really helped me to type this out! Well done if you've read this far! And I managed to do it with the wee guy konked out in his sling on my chest (love love love him xxx).
I'll need to read back on the thread properly to see how you are all getting on. I hope everyone is as well as can be with newborn 