They always say you can never plan child birth, the whole idea of a “birth plan” acts more like a guide to how you’d like things to be in a perfect world. That didn’t stop me from having a plan, a plan that any sergeant major would be proud of. “Fail to prepare, prepare to fail” was my motto.
Arriving at the hospital on Friday 13th wasn’t part of the plan, he was coming three weeks early and no amount of planning was going to change that.
Some people are superstitious and believe that Friday 13th is a terribly unlucky day. I’m not superstitious and certainly don’t believe a certain date or number can bring bad luck but this Friday 13th turned out to be a particularly bad day for me. Panicked by my waters breaking I arrived at the hospital slightly stressed to say the least. The midwifes were calm and cheerful and didn’t seem to be bothered at all that I was in labour three weeks early. I fed of their energy and slowly returned to a calm collected state….. though this was to be short lived.
An examination to confirm I was in labour was to change the course of my birth plan even further. Instantly the midwife shouts to her colleague to call someone and organise a scan she starts getting my bed ready to move whilst asking me all sorts of questions and telling me to lie on my side. I knew something wasn’t right and I could tell that whatever was happening was enough to panic the midwife too. When we reached the next room a scan was done along with another examination, “it’s bone we can feel, we think the baby has his arm around the top of his head, he won’t be able to come out in this position” a Cesarean section was recommended urgently and I knew there was nothing I could do to change it.
What did my plan matter now…….