Party of 5 ( And I’m Scott Wolf!)

I really wanted to be Matthew Fox but Hubby got in first. (Yes we tangent as I think of blog post names with him. And yes…only those from the 90’s who fell in love with the ridiculously good looking, all American orphans will know what I am talking about.)
So she is here. And It’s taken me this long to write a post about it. Here is my annoying mummy blogger birth story (cue groans and eye rolls here).
Our new lady baby is wonderful. She is such a chilled little darling. As the 3rd she needs to be.
Elizabeth James or Eliza…or Gingersnap…or Zuzu. We call her Zuzu for the most part (It’s a Wonderful Life reference)
The labour was pretty quick. I was finishing my workout ( Yes I worked out until I  popped and YES, I got the doctor and midwife nod of approval the whole way)  and realised the pains were getting stronger each minute. I started texting hubby and the long debate about is it or isn’t it began. We didn’t want to reschedule a busy day if it was a false alarm. Obviously we made the call for him to change his plans at work, for me to call my folks and him to return home.
Byron ended up being the first on the scene as active labour began. He was rushing back and forth in his PJ’s getting me water and telling me to push even though it was no where near time. he held my hand and was over the moon that he didn’t have to go to school…oh and his sister was coming. Evie just copied me. Every time a contraction would come and I was doubled over in pain, she would double over too saying “ouchy, oh no!”
Once Hubby arrived home, B exclaimed excitedly that “Mummy is having distraction’s, Dad!” and after that it was go go go. My step mum arrived with a bag of goodies for the kids to keep them occupied for the day and a mountain of baby clothes for the new arrival. It was actually a great way for me to remind myself that a new little life was on it’s way and to focus on her. I think my mind at the time was pre occupied with what the other 2 would have for lunch and was the house tidy…WTF.
We called the hospital and once I spoke with the nurse , she urged me to come in now as it was my third (classic multi, as I ended up being called) .
So, we drove in, spent ages looking for a park, I whinged about being embarrassed to walk through the hospital while it was daylight. Note here: Both my other 2 labours were at night so It felt odd that I was labouring in the day. I didn’t want people to see me like this. It may seem odd, But I just wanted to privately labour with the midwife and my husband. Anyway, we slowly plodded through the hospital with all the excited and sympathetic looks along the way as I doubled over in pain and refrained from yelling “fuckity mc fuck fuck” and all the other colourful language I like to use. We checked in and waited to be examined with a expectation that they would say “oh you are only 1cm, best you go home or wait in a room”. This happened with Evie so I didn’t want to get my hopes up. To my surprise the midwife said I was 6 almost 7 and it was time to go straight to the labour room. Actually this was more than a surprise, this was a shock to the system. This meant it was happening. And soon. Like really soon.
“Can I have an epidural?”I pleaded to the midwife.  “Do you really want that? It will slow it down and you are already over half way”. Dam it she was right and I did know in the back of my head I could do this. Maybe. The quicker the better and I was already in the eye of the storm. The midwife left and hubby went to get me some water and in that brief few minutes alone I burst into tears and just had an eminence amount of fear take over me. Just for those few minutes, until hubby came back, hugged me and said it will be ok. He was right. But it was like I just needed to get rid if that in order to keep going. Actually….it was like that scene in Lost where Jack explains to Kate about letting the fear take control of him for the first 5 seconds before he did spinal surgery on his to be wife. (See, this is why I want to be Matthew Fox…a second reference)
A water birth was mentioned and we had discussed it in the first 12 weeks but never really locked it down. Yep, let’s do it, whatever, let’s just go and someone give me the gas!
Tub was filled, I was sucking down the gas  and quite frankly all was bloody peachy! Laughing, joking, you would have thought it was a party really. The water helped me so much that I had to remind myself on a few occasions that I had a job to do. Well, my body reminded me. The contractions came back rather strong and I remembered looking at the clock thinking that we have only been there an hour and that also the midwives seemed to be just pottering around chatting and doing other things. I don’t know what I expected but for some reason I just felt like it should have been the same with my last 2 births…all hands on deck kind of thing. At one point I asked ‘what do I do?’ and the reply was “you will know what to do when the time comes.”

Hmmm ok…. I so won’t, but whatever!  I noticed the music playing on the Ipod they had was far to documentary like. I didn’t want to feel like the whale birthing in the water with David Attenborough narrating it.If anyone was going to narrate my birth it would Morgan Freeman…or Helen Mirren if he wasn’t available. None the less I asked for something more upbeat to be played. This for a while again distracted me and my husband. All was good…
Then there was a super strong contraction and a pop which I assumed I must have gone to the loo in the bath and panicked. Both midwives were up and shot over to the other side of the tub ( which still felt miles away) and they told Jim to get ready. I was asked if I wanted to catch my baby  and my reply was FUCK NO, can’t someone else do something, anything?! Weird I know but I was in the middle of another contraction and the sensation of pushing was yet again upon me. How dare someone ask me a question that I really was in no condition to properly respond to. I had a head coming out of my…well you know.
Yep, that head…well it popped out and with the next push she was completely out. Now here is that part where I have to now say that my husband…is practically a midwife now, So he says. Because he caught the baby. He did the real work. He only needs his qualifications and he can add that skill to his resume. ( Cue another eye roll).
So our Zuzu had arrived.Beautiful, calm, perfect at 7.2 pounds and in a pool of water. And arrived in the quickest possible way. I was in shock. Massive shock. I looked at the clock again and we had been at the hospital for under 2 hours. WTF! Looking  back I am so grateful we left when we did and I am sorry to all those mums out there that did warn me that the 3rd baby may be the lightning rod of child birth. You were right! Oh so right.
The funny thing about the 3rd baby is that you see things so differently about parenthood then when you had baby 1. Starring at this beautiful little bub and then your thoughts shift to “Crap it’s 11.30am, I better text mum to let her know where those  lunch things are for the kids. And I hope they aren’t scissor kicking each other again…oh and I better warn mum that when they start playing ‘Flying practice’ to move all the furniture out of the way. AH the joys of being a multi mum. Oh and the real reason you want to go home ASAP is that the hospital is noisy, you can’t deal with other people  waiting on you (That’s my job!) and you are worried about the house being destroyed by the 2 eagerly waiting siblings.
The siblings who are adorable with the new baby by the way. You get such a swell of emotions and love when you see them all dote on each other and kiss the baby and coo at her. Granted it’s short lived once they find something to scream at each other about, and generally that takes all of 2 minutes. But It’s sweet in those fleeting moments. And I know before we know what hit us all 3 will be screaming at each other. It’s so worth it though. So so SO worth it. And now we are a party of 5.
So that’s the birth story. The short of it anyway. But remember guys, my husband now is practically a midwife. Don’t forget that. A baby delivery man, bringer in er of babies… Giver of life. ( Cue last eye roll)



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