How Harrie came into the world: the After-Birth

In the long awaited conclusion to my birth story – which was now so long ago (two months! Who cares about a birth story anymore?!) – I will finally leave the story of the birth of Harrie.

See Part 1 here.

See Part 2 here.

So Harrie arrived and I was gloat-ful. I sat in the bed, holding my little baby on my chest, my number two – which comes sans the ‘Oh Fuck’ factor, and thus far easier to enjoy.

‘I can’t believe how much better I feel this time compared to the Sproglette,’ I was telling Mr Moi and my mum. (I lost some blood at the birth of Sproglette, and then 2.5 weeks later had a big secondary post-partum haemhorrage).

Gloat gloat gloat. Gloatgloatgloat you get the idea.

About 30 minutes after Harrie was born (I lie, I have no idea how long after, but sufficiently long enough that the doc and midwives had all left the delivery suite), a midwife came in wheeling the scales to weigh Harrie. She was chatting away asking me questions while she fussed about getting everything ready, and must have asked how I was. My answer?

‘I’m okay, but I really hate that gushing feeling you get down *there*.’ To which she answered, ‘Gushing feeling?’ and came over, lifted the blanket and discovered that I was dispersing blood like there was no tomorrow. Cause you know, blood – who needs it?

She rushed out to get the doctor and all of a sudden the room filled once again with about four midwives (and the Doc).

The gazillions of people in the room were all fussing over me – handing the baby to Mr Moi, taking my pulse, blood pressure (I think it was around 60 over something), trying to get an IV in . I got cold, which wasn’t helping the Doc with the IV, so he got an anaesthetist to come in to do it, got me under a contraption like a paper blanket that pumps warm air through it.

When they weighed the blood that I lost, they estimated it at 1.8 litres so decided to do a transfusion straight away. This meant I had a very uncomfortable night in the birth suite while I was getting fixed up, but never the less we still got to enjoy our squishy little baby.

At the 6 week appointment with the Doc, I asked for his thoughts on my damned uterus affliction, and he said some women just have these problems.

Thank God for modern medicine, without which I would not be here to share this story with you. (And that’s why I will never be a candidate for homebirth!)


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