a birth story - part two

You can read Part One of my story here.

I was practically positive that my little Dollop was going to arrive late.

So four days before my due date

we had only just finalised the names we liked. . .

At 5.50am exactly on the 6th of February, I woke up.

My bladder was full to bursting

and it could wait no longer.

I had been relatively lucky throughout my pregnancy

in that I hadn't really been bothered too much

by the infamous middle of the night trips to the loo.

It was always my bladder that woke me in the morning

and always nice and early,

but never in the night.

And besides 5.50am was alarm clock time when I was at work

so it didn't really feel that early.

So I rolled myself out of bed,

over the top of the enormous maternity pillow,

and I pulled myself up to standing using the chest of drawers for assistance.

I remember I had a funny, excited feeling in my tummy that I couldn't really describe.

A bit like the nerves you get before the first day back at school,

or the feeling when you wake up and realise it's your birthday,

or Christmas,

or you're going on holiday today.

It was nothing I could put my finger on specifically,

just a strange energy.

I waddled into the en-suite ready to go to the toilet.

I was poised ready to sit on the loo

when suddenly

I wee'd before I was ready.

This was clearly that other late pregnancy symptom that they warn you about,

incontinence.

Oh joy!

I finished my business and stood up

only for it to happen again.

Oh no, how embarrassing.

At least I was at home, I thought.

Now that I'd emptied my bladder,

I figured I'd go back to bed.

It was Sunday after all,

and my hubby was at home,

and this could well be our last chance for a Sunday lie in cuddled up together.

He was still asleep

so I gingerly got back into bed

and lay there willing sleep to come back to me.

But that funny, nagging, exciting, nervous energy thing wouldn't budge.

(Looking back now,

I remember a friend saying to me

that she had a sense of knowing it was coming

right before she went into labour,

but at the time I probably didn't want to let myself believe it was anything.

Plus I was feeling slightly mortified about the whole 'wetting myself' thing.)

At 6.30am I was still awake

and feeling like I needed the loo again.

So I rolled out of bed again

and this time felt a steady stream of fluid run down my leg.

I made it to the ensuite

(and the hard flooring rather than carpet)

just in time.

As I sat on the toilet

trying to use my pelvic floor exercises to stop the flow

(and wishing I'd done the pelvic floor exercises

that everyone tells you to practise when your pregnant)

it began to dawn on me

that this may well not be failing pelvic floor muscles and poor bladder control

and that it may,

just maybe,

possibly,

be that my waters had broken.

The flow eased a little

and so I hatched a plan to go to the lounge

and google about breaking waters.

Just to see if there was anything particular that I should be looking out for

which might indicate whether that was what had happened.

But as I stood up to go

another gush ran down my leg

and I decided that there was,

in fact,

no way that I could possibly be weeing this much.


Read the next part here.