AndyWard opened this issue on Sep 14, 2002 ยท 7 posts
AndyWard posted Sun, 15 September 2002 at 5:47 AM
My little bundle of joy is now almost 11, over 5 foot tall and wears bigger shoes than me. But when he was small, (at 9pound9 born he was never really little)I was in the Navy. Frankly if they'd meant me to have a child they would have issued me with one themselves. I was a single mother from the day i said I was pregnant. HE wanted me to have an abortion. I'd been told I could never have kids, I was working full time and I thought that I was capable of becoming superwoman. Of course that was far from the truth of the matter. Two weeks over cooked, my son got stuck under my hip and refused to budge. They broke my water and inserted a drip around 7.30-8am on Thursday the twelfth. My superstitius and hormonal self was not going to have him born on Fri 13th. Contractions went into full swing before 10am. My friend who came to hold my hand left covered in bruises. It hurt....a lot. I wanted drugs, the same drugs I was sure I wasn't going to need. I wanted alot of drugs. Started with happy gas. Just made me feel out of control. Pethidine (this was going to be good!) was great between contractions but once he got well and truly jammed there was no 'between'contractions. Epidural was God! So much for the previous terror of anything being stuck near my spine. At 2345hrs on Thurs the 12th my son was taken out during a caeserarean. Much to my drugged-out-of-my-mind brain's disappointment I couldn't see anything. Despite what the very cute greeneyed Anathesia guy said, I wanted watch the whole thing. 'Take down the curtain, I'm a nurse I can handle it' Thankfully they didn't. Anyway just over an hr later I was feeding him, so it was all good. Went back to work when he was around 9 and 1/2 weeks old. Too proud to go home, on welfare, to my mother. I didn't have time to get Post Natal Depression, so I got Post Natal Denial. I was coping. I was! Honest. So I left him for 6 weeks to attend a course a thousand kilometres away. So What! So I spent the 6 weeks drunk and feeling guilty and panicky. So what! Remember... I was superwoman.