Can I Go For a Poo Now?
So at 36 weeks with a planned induction 2 and half weeks later, we (well the Mother) felt that it was safe to head North to visit the Bride-To-Be (BTB) in order that I could start my bridesmaid duties, make some wedding cake decisions - taking along samples, obviously - and also to allow the Mother and BTB to play with make-up and facials and samples. Besides, first babies are always late aren't they!
Having had a very pleasant afternoon in House Of Fraser we got to BTB's house for just after 6 - just right for tea and cake and chat. Barely having sat down and finished her cake when the Mother jumps up and heads for the toilet. Note the word "jump" in that sentence. Not commonly associated with a heavily pregnant woman. It was 7pm.
Me: "... is everything ok?"
Mother: "...umm, not totally"
A very short time later
Mother: "I think my waters have broken"
Me: "Oh"
Mother: "And I need a poo but I'm too scared to push..."
Phone calls to Bristol told us to go to the nearest hospital. The nearest to New Mills is Stepping Hill which has a maternity unit. Not really what we needed if bean decided to make an appearance. The nearest tertiary centre is St Mary's in Manchester. After phoning Stepping Hill, they agreed with our thoughts and talked to St Marys to ensure that there was space for us and that we would be welcome. Then the ambulance was called. Well, I didn't want to get the car dirty! (joke).
The decision was that we'd go by ambulance to St Marys, and BTB would follow in the Focus as that had stuff we would need should bean make an appearance, allowing me to be in the ambulance with the Mother and also making sure that the car was where we were. See, not so disorganised as to not have the hospital bag packed and in the car!
The joys of PCTs and the NHS. We were picked up by East Midlands Ambulance Service - they don't normally go into Manchester as it's out of their boundary. They would normally take us to Stepping Hill for examination and then Stepping Hill would refer us to the appropriate location. We thought that that was a bad plan which is why we had made arrangements to go to St Marys. The ambulance crew checked with their controller who agreed and so off we went. Given that they had never been to St Marys, the ambulance crew phoned up the hospital to get their location and confirm that they were expecting us. They said no, go to Stepping Hill. There was no room at the inn. We were halfway down the A6.
So there we were in the back of an ambulance, parked on the side of the road with the Mother rather distressed and scared, the the ambulance crew hacked off whilst various people higher up the food chain made decisions around us. It didn't help anyones humour that over a 30 minute period, the ambulance crew couldn't get through to the triage nurse at St Marys because it was permanently engaged. The BTB had caught us up at this point and had parked behind the ambulance. After 45 minutes, a decision was finally made. We were to go (back) to Stepping Hill with blues and twos due to the length of time the faffing had taken:
Paramedic: "I have to tell you to tell your friend that she's not to try and keep up or jump red lights"
BTB was so disappointed.
A few moments later, a call came through. No, you are going to St Mary's after all. So we turned around again and headed back towards Manchester. Not that the ambulance crew knew where they were going - after all it's not their area, but Google does. If only they weren't still building bits of it.
Finally after asking directions we made it to triage where we were met by a most obstreperous and unfriendly midwife (well that's what it felt like). She and one of the ambulance crews had one of those conversations where on the top both are justifying their actions whilst the undercurrent says "you've not heard the last of this". Frankly I just wanted the Mother admitted and seen to. I was very good and didn't scream at anyone (I don't think I swore all evening which must be a record).
We were told to wait. The Mother meanwhile was leaking enough water to supply the South-East for the next month and had been for almost two hours. It was 9 o'clock. The contractions started. And still we waited.
After what seemed like several days (but was probably only half an hour), we were seen by the first of several lovely people of varying levels of seniority. With the registrar arriving before 10pm to confirm that yes indeed the waters had broken and, finally, the Mother was allowed her poo.
They moved us to a delivery suite where the Mother was hooked up to the usual monitoring equipment to check beans condition. The neonatologist registrar came across and explained what they would normally do in CDH cases - it's pretty much the same as Bristol, the variations being that the consultant would not normally be present and that the baby wouldn't ordinarily be paralysed only sedated. BTB and I got shown NICU and it was very new and shiny and swish. It did look very good and it was clear that they were more than capable of looking after us. In the meantime we had also managed to persuade them to give the Mother steroids. It is undecided whether these help with lung maturation but they wouldn't do any harm. We were going to get them the following week in Taunton just in case bean came early. St Mary's were less than convinced that they would actually be of any benefit, but they wouldn't harm. The steroids are administered in two doses 12hours apart by injection. Into the bottom. Worse than the amnio needle apparently.
Once past the desk Manchester were lovely and helpful, they found a mattress for me once they realised that I was going to sleep on the floor (creme eggs are great for bribing nurses) and BTB went home at about 1am in may car. Hopefully without getting any more speeding tickets.
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