Live-blog your labour? (Flashback - not the current baby.)

Some people Live-Blog their labours. Back in the day, I thought that sounded cute. It wouldn't work out that well for me though.

This is how it would have gone for Anna-Lucia's birth.

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14 April 2007

9:30am - I think the baby is coming today, but at the hospital, multiple midwives, registrars and even one consultant said I just had an "irritable uterus" and sent me home. Humph. When I was induced for Nat's birth they told me I had a "favourable cervix." Now they tell me I have an "irritable uterus." I never knew lady parts could be so fickle. Still. I think the baby wants to come today. Good thing I live close to the hospital.

9:45am - Mr de Elba drives fast over a bump in the road. I snap at him that he needs to pretend there's a pregnant woman in the car and drive slower and more carefully, or the baby may just fall out.

9:50am - I wash my funky stretchy Slazenger pants and put them on the clothesline, acting on an instinct that I will need them later in the day to labour in, if "irritability" turns to labour.

1:00pm - Trying to sleep.

2:00pm - Can't sleep.

2:30pm - Uterus very ... "irritable."

2:45pm - Friends call and ask if they could visit. We say yes. Afterall, an "irritable" uterus isn't any reason to be "not at home to visitors." Vaguely wonder if we can make it to Chestnut Cheeks' birthday party which starts at 3:00pm.

2:55pm - Friends arrive. "Irritable" uterus seeming very like a labouring, contracting uterus.

2:57pm - Shout at friends that we love them but they'd better go home, Mr de Elba takes Nat to a neighbour's house.

2:58pm - Uterus so "irritable" it refuses to have waistband of my denim skirt anywhere near it. I head out to the clothesline to get funky stretchy Slazenger pants to labour in. Pardon me - to "be irritable" in.

2:59pm - In car. Mr de Elba drives very slowly and carefully over bumps in the road. I snap at him to drive the damn car as fast as he can straight to the hospital. Stuff the bumps. This baby is coming now!!!

3:00pm - 3:15pm - I don't believe God reserves parking spaces for his little sunbeams, but He did today - the closest park in a multi-level carpark that is always full. I wait out a contraction, then I walkwalkwalk like a madwoman while Mr de Elba gets my bag and tries to keep up, all the way across the road, into the hospital, into the lift, down one floor, out of the lift, through the OPEN door of Birth Suite silently blessing the thoughtless soul who'd inadvertantly left it open, past the midwives' station shouting, "Baby's Coming!", "Room 4 is free" they call back and scrabble around for my file and a pen, I go into Room 4, take off my shoes, get into a comfy position and start moaning, for that is what I do, they feel a few contractions and say, "Hmm, they're not starting up the top and moving down, you're probably a while off," silently I think, "Like heck," and gratefully accept the gas they offer me. They leave the room to chill out until the action starts, and suddenly I am plunged into the transition phase, the baby moves down, the contractions move towards real serious second-stage-type contractions and my waters break in a huge gush into my funky stretchy Slazenger pants. Damn. They were clean! The midwives are suddenly back milling around me saying things like, "She did this to us last time too." As in: my first birth was precipitate too. They have this absurd idea to take off my funky stretchy Slazenger pants. Priorities? Birth first, fashion later! Oh, right, baby's coming out around about there. Okay. Look, I can't move: I'm focussed. They'll have to do it for me. Then one push and all of a sudden ...

3:16pm - ... Baby slithers out. Mother in shock. Father is too. Midwives lay the baby down on the bed saying, "There's someone here you should meet." It's actually my job to move the cord and see that it is "Anna-Lucia", and not the much-expected "Unnamed Baby Boy Project." Things start getting less crazy and more peaceful.

3:17pm - Suddenly realise we will miss Chestnut Cheeks' birthday party. We're already 17 minutes late. We forgot to buy a present and I haven't a thing to wear. Not my funky stretchy Slazenger pants, anyway.

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See how that worked? One minute I'm at my washing line, and 18 minutes later I am checking out my new baby. Not much time to switch on, log in and think up the right words.

Live-Blogging one's labour. I'm not sure it would have worked for me.