'Twas the night before Christmas,
When all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse,
Oh, apart from the pregnant lady on the top floor,
Who thought she was going into labour...
It'd had been a very pleasant Christmas Eve. The family had been round; we'd had a hearty feast, drank well (those of us who could) and vegged out before something or other on television - Buzzcocks, I think it may have been. K___ was feeling a bit of pain over the top half of her tummy, but although it was uncomfortable, we weren't too worried. It was much like the pain she'd had before. We retired at a remarkable civilised hour and that, I thought was that. The presents were wrapped and put under the tree or in stockings as appropriate. I settled down to sleep.
Sometime later, I awoke to the sound of quiet sobbing beside me. 'What's wrong? Is it your tummy?' Poor K___'s pain had grown worse and worse as she lay asleep. Of course, it being the middle of the night would, I am sure, have made it seem even worse. I asked whether it was still the same pain, and K___ said she wasn't sure but it seemed to go in waves. Sure enough, another wave came along and K___ doubled over, and screwed her eyes shut as it hit. After she'd gone through a few of these, we decided to time them. After all, perhaps these were contractions and K___'s complaints of an ache earlier in the day was her going through the early stages of labour. All of a sudden, we were faced with all the stuff we'd learnt, all the information we've tried to jam into our heads being real and actually mattering.
The problem is, K___ hadn't had any of the classic signs of being in labour. She hadn't had a 'show' - blood-streaked mucus passed from the vagina. She hadn't had her waters break. Other than her stomach pain, there wasn't any nausea. Unfortunately, there doesn't need to be. There wasn't any pain in her cervix area either, although she did think that the pain was starting to move down below her belly button.
Our midwives have always said that there's little point in contacting them until the contraction are consistently two minutes apart for about an hour (assuming no other complicating factors). They simply can't do anything for you at that point. These 'contractions' weren't anything like as frequent as every two minutes. In fact, they didn't seem to be terribly regular. Sometimes they'd seem to come every five minutes, but then she wouldn't have another for an age.
I asked K___ if she was hungry and got her a couple of slices of Marmite toast, but she didn't really want it. I did keep reminding her to sip her water every so often as our NCT tutor had told us.
We also broke out the TENS machine and attach it to K___'s back. I removed the four sticky pads and placed two either side of her spine, one above the other and plugged them into the controller, which hung around K____'s neck on a loop of cord. Every time one of the 'contractions' hit, she would press the boost button and the intensity of the signal would be increased to the pads on her back. The idea is that it creates endorphins - nature's own painkillers, but it didn't seem to have too great an effect.
I regret to say that despite the possibility of my child being imminently born I was feeling utterly shattered. I was in this weird state of half-fear, half torpor. It was about 2.30 am when all this kicked off, and after nearly two hours I was feeling at a very low ebb. When it seemed that the 'contractions' weren't as regular as we had first thought, K___ suggested that I try and sleep and that she would let me know if anything changed.
The next thing I knew, it was Christmas morning. K___ was beside me and was fine. Her tummy felt normal and she'd felt nothing after 5.30. Santa had been and given us presents, but a baby wasn't one of them.
When all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse,
Oh, apart from the pregnant lady on the top floor,
Who thought she was going into labour...
It'd had been a very pleasant Christmas Eve. The family had been round; we'd had a hearty feast, drank well (those of us who could) and vegged out before something or other on television - Buzzcocks, I think it may have been. K___ was feeling a bit of pain over the top half of her tummy, but although it was uncomfortable, we weren't too worried. It was much like the pain she'd had before. We retired at a remarkable civilised hour and that, I thought was that. The presents were wrapped and put under the tree or in stockings as appropriate. I settled down to sleep.
Sometime later, I awoke to the sound of quiet sobbing beside me. 'What's wrong? Is it your tummy?' Poor K___'s pain had grown worse and worse as she lay asleep. Of course, it being the middle of the night would, I am sure, have made it seem even worse. I asked whether it was still the same pain, and K___ said she wasn't sure but it seemed to go in waves. Sure enough, another wave came along and K___ doubled over, and screwed her eyes shut as it hit. After she'd gone through a few of these, we decided to time them. After all, perhaps these were contractions and K___'s complaints of an ache earlier in the day was her going through the early stages of labour. All of a sudden, we were faced with all the stuff we'd learnt, all the information we've tried to jam into our heads being real and actually mattering.
The problem is, K___ hadn't had any of the classic signs of being in labour. She hadn't had a 'show' - blood-streaked mucus passed from the vagina. She hadn't had her waters break. Other than her stomach pain, there wasn't any nausea. Unfortunately, there doesn't need to be. There wasn't any pain in her cervix area either, although she did think that the pain was starting to move down below her belly button.
Our midwives have always said that there's little point in contacting them until the contraction are consistently two minutes apart for about an hour (assuming no other complicating factors). They simply can't do anything for you at that point. These 'contractions' weren't anything like as frequent as every two minutes. In fact, they didn't seem to be terribly regular. Sometimes they'd seem to come every five minutes, but then she wouldn't have another for an age.
I asked K___ if she was hungry and got her a couple of slices of Marmite toast, but she didn't really want it. I did keep reminding her to sip her water every so often as our NCT tutor had told us.
We also broke out the TENS machine and attach it to K___'s back. I removed the four sticky pads and placed two either side of her spine, one above the other and plugged them into the controller, which hung around K____'s neck on a loop of cord. Every time one of the 'contractions' hit, she would press the boost button and the intensity of the signal would be increased to the pads on her back. The idea is that it creates endorphins - nature's own painkillers, but it didn't seem to have too great an effect.
I regret to say that despite the possibility of my child being imminently born I was feeling utterly shattered. I was in this weird state of half-fear, half torpor. It was about 2.30 am when all this kicked off, and after nearly two hours I was feeling at a very low ebb. When it seemed that the 'contractions' weren't as regular as we had first thought, K___ suggested that I try and sleep and that she would let me know if anything changed.
The next thing I knew, it was Christmas morning. K___ was beside me and was fine. Her tummy felt normal and she'd felt nothing after 5.30. Santa had been and given us presents, but a baby wasn't one of them.
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