This time last year I was awake and watching The Hoobs with a cup of tea. (I love The Hoobs)
I had Braxton Hicks.
I couldn’t sleep;
I was excited.
I was scared.
I had serious butterflies in my tummy.
I was going to be induced that day.
This time last year we headed to the hospital for my induction.
As we neared, Michael Bublé’s “Just Haven’t Met You Yet” was playing on the radio.
We smiled at each other.
I stroked my Bump.
This was it.
She’d soon be here.
This time last year I was admitted to the ward to be induced.
She hadn’t been moving much; I had just figured she was running out of space!
I was terrified.
I was angry.
I was vulnerable.
I hadn’t wanted to starting labouring in hospital.
I wanted to be at home.
Surrounded by our own things.
This time last year a Midwife finally came to see me, after many hours of waiting.
I was hooked up to a monitor.
Baby was fine by this point.
This time last year I had my first pessary.
I was told my cervix was favourable (TMI?).
I was told that all being well, my waters would be broken at midnight.
“Get some rest,” she said “You’ll need it”.
This time last year I was examined by a different Midwife.
She had a completely different opinion about my cervix.
I was given a second pessary.
I was told to sleep.
This time last year I was awoken by a trickling sensation and then a “whoosh!”
My waters had broken.
The contractions had started.
She was on her way.