by Nikki

For some time now I have been meaning to write down the details of Catherine's birth. Well, here we go:

In August, Andrew and I learned that we were going to have a baby. This was slightly earlier than we had anticipated, but this did nothing to dampen our enthusiasm. Our due date was April 29th, which was coming at us fast and furious.

I was a little lax in the early stages of the pregnancy in getting myself to the OB. I'd met him at the hospital when I had been admitted due to dehydration as a result of horrendous morning sickness. I didn't get to his office until we were nearly 18 weeks along. Slap on the wrist, Nikki.

In the time before seeing the OB officially we had met, and Andrew and I both decided that we liked him and that we trusted him with the delivery of our baby. At our first visit to his office he did a scan of the baby and showed Andrew all of the bits and pieces that could be seen. We had seen the baby on a scan done at the hospital, but this was so much clearer and having it all explained to us made a great deal of difference. There is just no time at the hospital to ask questions -- it seems like a factory at times.

Everything went really well during the pregnancy. I loved every minute of it. I haven't forgotten the 32 weeks of morning sickness or having to be admitted to hospital three times because of it. I haven't forgotten my para-umbilical hernia. I haven't forgotten having to waddle everywhere and literally lug myself from place to place or barely being able to fit behind the steering wheel of the car. But we had a good pregnancy, and I truly look forward to our next one.

Everything was going according to plan until early in April. Just three weeks before we were due the OB decided that he wanted to run my blood work again. The first time they were done everything was okay, so why would things change? I have a bleeding disorder, a factor 8 problem that means that I do not form clots normally and that creates an increased potential for hemorrhaging.

Pregnancy is meant to increase your clotting factors and so mine should have been better. But instead, my clotting factors decided to go backwards, meaning that the nice little local hospital that we were booked into didn't want us any more.

Three weeks out from D-day and we had to find another OB and go to King Edward for delivery. We decided to just go through the clinic at King Eddie. Three weeks wasn't enough time to try to organize a new OB. There would be no guarantee that the doctor we picked would be able to deliver us anyway.

The clinic at King Eddie was really good. As a high-risk patient I got to see the same doctor each visit and he was a consultant. I felt very comfortable with him. Still, there was no guarantee that he would deliver for us.

The week before we were due I had an appointment. It seemed that almost overnight my feet hands and face had swollen. My blood pressure had gone through the roof, and it was decided to admit me to try and lower it. I also had a positive result of protein in my urine. The diagnosis of pre-eclampsia was made and so the order for complete bed rest was given. I'd been told to take things easy prior to all of this, but to be honest; I just didn't have that luxury. With Andrew having been so ill and us living so far away, the daily trips to the doctor really took a lot out of me.

I hate hospitals. The fact that King Edward is a good hour and a half away from home did nothing to help that. I missed Andrew desperately and I worried about me not being there to take care of him. The daily journey into the city to see me was taking its toll on him and I knew that his migraines were getting worse.

"God, just let me have this baby so as I can get back home and get things back to normal." How many of us have said that? As if that is ever going to happen. Life is never normal again.

By Thursday morning my blood pressure was up to 160/125 -- not great news. The doctors had not been keen to induce for some reason, but this changed their minds. The medication for the blood pressure was slowing Catherine and myself down. Having nothing to do but sit and watch the walls, I became acutely aware of every one of Catherine's movements, or lack of movement. It seemed that for hours and hours she was still. The hourly fetal heart monitoring was somewhat reassuring, but still scared the living heck out of me.

Thursday night I was taken down to the delivery ward. What an uninspiring place that was. I was given a uterine catheter that would hopefully start the dilation process. That was 9 pm. At 7 am I was examined and told that the catheter had done nothing to encourage the cervix.

On to plan B. My membranes were artificially ruptured and I was hooked up to the drip. Thank God that the catheter was removed. I could pee again. Andrew developed a migraine around this time and we decided that seeing as nothing much was afoot that he should head off to the doctor to get sorted out for when I would really need him. My father took him off and he was back by 11:30 am.

Nothing much happened for a few hours, just the odd pain here and there. The decision to crank up the drip a bit more was given at noon. Labor was established at 2 pm. Regular strong pains were coming every few minutes. I was completely oblivious to everything. I remember the pain, sort of. Nothing that was hugely unbearable though. I could deal with this.

Due to my bleeding problem I was not able to have an epidural. The last thing I needed was the potential for bleeding into my spine. I was given a PCA and was to press the button when the pain got too bad. I have no recollection of this, but I have been told that at one point I threw the PCA at the doctor and told him that it was as useful as "tits on a bull." Oops!