Well doesn’t time fly. I am pleased to announce the arrival of Patrick Fynnley Adger born on the 30th April 2015 at 16:04, a mighty ten pound two ounces.
I have to say, No one gave us the what if it doesn’t all go to plan leaflet.
Unfortunately things hadn’t started moving despite bouncing around in a Landrover, gardening, swimming, walking all the tricks suggested for bringing on labour.
So on Tuesday 28th April we set off to Broomfield Hospital for them to start inducing me. I had read the leaflet and understood it was all to do with them giving me hormones that should start the process of baby Adger being born.
To cut a long story short, I didn’t respond to the hormones given on Tuesday, so I started the next type on Wednesday morning. By late afternoon I still hadn’t got going so they gave me another course that evening. That was when things all went a bit crazy. I started contracting and oh my goodness me the pain. They gave me some morphine which made me really really sick and then the babies heartbeat went down and they were concerned so we were moved to the labour ward. Where I was given an epidural, they also noticed I had lost of waters, I’m not sure where? But were concerned about infection. They then started me on a hormone drip and all was going well, Richard the Registrar was off for his lunch and planned to deliver the baby when he returned and hour and half later. However in that time the consultant came in and told me that I was off to theatre.
Within twenty minutes, they had topped up my epidural, my bed was moving through the corridors and I was in theatre that was staffed with about twenty people. After a short time and in my haze of a drugged up body I heard a cry and Patrick was born.
Thanks to a lovely Paediatrician, Gareth cut his cord and brought him over to see his very hazy eyed Mummy. I must say I was rather away with the fairies. He was then taken away to be looked after. My plans of those special first moments and skin to skin contact all went by the by.
It took well over and hour and a half to stitch me up and then I went into recovery. I have never felt so not in control and I felt like I kept drifting in and out. They put what I can only describe as crazy boots on my legs. They were to prevent thrombosis and kept pumping up and then down. It was a horrible feeling. I just wanted to stand up and breathe fresh air! But has been warned standing was out of the question for at least six hours. Another lady had tried and broken both her ankles recently.
I was then moved to the post natal ward. Oh what fun. Someone was trying to take me blood pressure every fifteen minutes, another was trying to get more drugs going into the IV line in my hand. Another was trying to take my blood, which is a task I don’t envy anyone to do. I’m a nightmare for getting a vein. A young doctor finally managed and it coagulated (went all sticky and lumpy) and the syringe burst whilst trying to put it into viles and covered everyone with one blood. It was like a scene out of a playstation game! At the same time I felt I was so hot, the sweat was pouring off of me, Poor Gareth was wetting paper towel and laying it all around my face and neck.
Finally things calmed down and our little boy was returned to us at about 9.30pm. I felt so useless, he needed dressing and I couldn’t stand to do it. He also had a tongue tie which meant sucking was hard so he had had a stomach tube put in to be fed on. My plans of breast feeding went straight out the window as he just didn’t have the suck due to his tongue. Poor lad.
However things all sorted themselves out, thanks to the wonderful care of the team at the hospital. Both of us had really high infections, and Patrick was having antibiotics morning and night through an IV line in his hand. Poor lad even had to have a lumber punch. I was having two lots of antibiotics four times a day via drip. Patricks tongue tie was snipped when he was three days old and his stomach tube was removed. Despite trying to get my milk going by expressing I think all the drugs and loss of my appetite had just made my body say NO, I’m not making milk! So Patrick will have to be a formula baby! It was one of the things I really wanted to do and am so disappointed that I can’t feed him myself but hey ho at least I have a healthy little boy.
After eight days in hospital we were finally given the all clear to come home, I cried!!!! Hormones I think, but two inches of fresh air through a window was tough for me. I do think I needed the stay in hospital, your body is just knocked for six having a caesarean but as each day passes my goodness I feel better. Not to mention I have lost nearly three stone. I am fitting in clothes that I couldn’t wear even before I was pregnant.
We have been home for two weeks today, Patrick is a good boy and we are settling into the routine of home life. Last night he managed to go for four hours between feeds twice. I can now walk faster and longer and managed to take him down the bottom of the wood on Sunday.
We have had lots of visitors and Patrick is a very lucky boy, we have had so many pressies and cards. Truly blessed to have so many wonderful friends and family. Not to mention he now has £254 to go into his first bank account. Not bad for a young lad!
Whilst we were in hospital everyone was great helping with the animals. Grandad looked after the goats, cows, pigs and chooks. My brothers friend Coral, looked after the horses. What a great job they did thank you! As time was ticking Dad and Gareth with the help of Simon moved the cows to Sally’s for summer grazing. I have never missed moving the animals around, but we just accepted every offer of help, not a lot I could do in my condition laying on a hospital bed!
Now we are home, we have a Quinny pram for outside thanks to Lou who works with Mum, its perfect we can get everywhere. No stopping us. I am hoping to for the first time muck out the horses myself today. Being careful of cause and I won’t be pushing the barrows to the muck heap. All seems to be healing well and I can do more every day. My belly does feel numb a lot of the time, but I’m told it improves as the muscles bond back together.
I was shocked that when I went into hospital there were no leaves out on the trees, but when I returned they all had them. Strange what a difference a week makes.
The animals are all well, Dad helped with shearing and most of the sheep have gone off for summer grazing.
The pigs are growing well and another six Oxford Sandy and Blacks were delivered yesterday.
Mum has managed to hatch four of our turkey eggs under one of her hens, which I am thrilled about.
I hope you are all well, and enjoying spring. I am just going to have a cuppa and feed Patrick and then we shall be off outside for the afternoon. It’s a hard life being a baby!