Stitches

Tuesday 2nd February

This date had been in our diary for a good 3 months, a date we never thought would come and one we didn't think we would reach if it hadn't have been for the stitch that was put in place all those weeks ago.  The 2nd of February marked the day of the removal.

Both Clare and I awoke very early, possibly through excitement for the day ahead, but realistically through anticipation and anxiety.  We received a massive amount of support from family and friends, even getting a phone call from my Ma who is holidaying in Australia.  Ma had just come out of an OAP screening of Star Wars, so was a little giddy.

We had been to a few monitoring scans prior to this date (see baby heartbeats) and Clare's pains had been linked to contractions.  These contractions were increasing in frequency and strength, baby had finally moved from a breach position to a positive "Ready for Launch" position.  It was if everything was aligning for the special date.

Clare was thankful of the night off from the Fragmin injection in preparation for the pending procedure and with our bags packed and loaded in the car ready, we were fully planned for the inevitable.

We arrived earlier than expected at the Maternity Unit and headed towards our friends at the scan unit.  The morning scan confirmed baby was perfectly engaged, my excitement levels were reaching a pinnacle point.   Baby was measuring at 7lb 7oz, looking to have adopted the Donovan family cranium and larger than expected at this stage of the pregnancy, everything looking great. We then checked in with a new consultant and went through our entire story.  The Central Delivery Suite was full again, so we were moved to M2 to wait for availability.  Our thoughts were the same as the consultants, midwifes and scan staff, once the stitch that held the cervix for so many months was removed, Baby D would be joining us.  We needed to make sure everything was prepped and ready.

Whilst waiting on M2, I noticed all the current residents involved in what I can only be described as "The Pregnant Olympics".  Pacing up and down the corridors with varying size bumps, huffing and puffing and hoping that the next available slot was theirs, bouncing on big blue balls scattered around the wards with partners rubbing their backs with encouraging yet panicked faces, various inducing floor exercises that looked like turtles trying to right themselves to a standing position.  All of this, whilst slightly amusing, was an insight into our position to come

After a couple of hours sat on the ward waiting, a doctor approached us with ominous equipment.  A large workman's industrial torch and implements of pain and torture.  The stitch was coming out right here, right now.  Both Clare and I were a little concerned to the bombastic approach and without little concern or preparation on our side, the doctor was ready.  Seeing the pain in Clare's eyes  as the procedure was taking place was immeasurably difficult.  Knowing that this was for the greater good, but causing Clare to writhe in agony,  After 12 weeks of doing a superb job, the stitch was eventually removed,  With the little preparation time given and inevitable blood loss, we were a little annoyed at the state Clare was left in by the doctor, and would have much preferred things to have been organised.

We were told to remain still for one hour to hopefully cease the bleeding  and then Clare would be joining the sprint section of the Pregnant Olympics, a 100 metre corridor waddle consisting of as many laps as possible.  I was there to coach and offer advice, however, this was seen as more of an annoyance rather than positive encouragement.

With what we and the rest of Bolton Hospital staff thought inevitable, what we had been preparing for all day long, what our families at home and abroad were checking their phones for, didn't happen. The couple of hours of monitoring passed and the call came to check out and go home.  I was fully expecting to get minutes away from home and waters break, settle in for the night and waters break, just be falling asleep and waters break, they didn't.

Clare and I were exhausted, we had been expecting elation and exitement all day long and nothing.  Once we had returned home we also returned to a normal state of being, just Clare and I, no extra patter of feet.  Drained from what the day had brought, I had to nudge Clare early into the evening as my shoulder was wet through from drool.  We were both drained and ready to call it a night.