I’d had a good pregnancy with no problems, and worked full-time up until a fortnight before he was born.
The horrific birth made up for the pleasant pregnancy: suffice to say that I wouldn’t wish forceps delivery, enough internal and external stitching to make the Bayeux Tapestry, and the subsequent loss by the midwives of one of their swabs, which necessitated me being x-rayed (at the opposite end of the hospital immediately after the birth) to see if they’d left it inside me, on my worst enemy.
On the plus side, the epidural was great – none of this natural birth malarkey for me – I was more than happy to accept any pain relief going. Bring on the drugs!
Once the epidural wore off, though, I was in agony for about a month. Sitting down was nigh on impossible. Somebody needs to invent an epidural that lasts for at least a couple of weeks after the birth, I reckon.
My “birth partner” (bloody hate that expression) was my sister-in-law, Sarah, who was great. I think she enjoyed the whole thing far more than I did!
Ashley was also in the hospital and kept popping in and out of the delivery room, but wasn’t there for the actual birth. I was more than happy with this arrangement – quite frankly, given the choice, I wouldn’t have attended the birth either – unfortunately, however, my presence was somewhat essential to the process.
After three days we went home – and then the fun REALLY began … but that’s another story.