A letter to my midwife

#whatkatydid, International day of the midwife, #IDM2017You probably won’t remember me. Though I’m sure there’s no such thing as a typical birth, my little boy’s was happily uneventful in the medical sense. There was no real drama. He was safely delivered just as your shift was ending, after a fairly long labour. He was healthy. And I was well. There was and is no real reason for you to remember me.

But we will never forget you.

Larissa. I’m sorry, I can’t remember your surname. It’s on the record of Sonny Jim’s birth, along with his weight and time he was born. That record is tucked away in a little memory box in his bedroom.

But anyway. Larissa. I first met you when you came on shift that morning. I’d already been in hospital for a few hours. I was, if I’m honest, just starting to get a bit panicked by all this giving birth malarkey. I was in pain. I felt out of control. I wasn’t sure I could actually do it anymore. Continue reading

Advertisements

A labour of love

Katy Pearson, Sonny Jim, newborn

A year ago today: Finally I hold my baby boy in my arms

Today Sonny Jim is one. ONE. I’m going to have to drink a lot of Prosecco to cope with this fact. But anyway. His first birthday has got me thinking about my first (giving) birth day. And as every woman’s birth experiences are so different I figured I’d share my own little labour of love…

9pm, March 21 – six days before baby’s due date: I’m making chocolate Ferrero Rocher balls, having painted a patch on the kitchen ceiling earlier in the day. My belly aches a bit, but I am TOTALLY DETERMINED that I must make these chocolate balls. I don’t know why. It doesn’t occcur to me that I am displaying the classic nesting-overload-so-baby-must-imminent signs, because I have NO desire to clean the kitchen floor. Or rearrange cupboards.

10.30pm: Go to bed and actually sleep for more than two hours without needing to pee. Continue reading