A matter of hours. Has it been nine months already? They're about to be born

I am 38 weeks and a half pregnant and I'm at the end of my tether. Estel weighs over 3 kg and Ona over 2,5 kgs. They're both fine, and when I was thinking that I'd have to endure this a bit longer by the end of this medical appointment, I leave the surgery with a hospital admission order. We have to be at the hospital before 8 o'clock for admission. It is not until I get there that I become aware that the time has come. However, I’m not very clear on what to expect. I went through that moment as "one thing leads to another" and now I've got some vague recollection of it.

At eleven in the evening oxytocin is not working on me...so we go up to our room. Looking back, perhaps it was at that time when I started to get nervous, because you realise that you don't quite know how things are going to unfold. I obviously thought about my midwife a lot... especially after what I had been told about her in the hospital birthing rooms... it turns out that everyone knows her! And not precisely as an example of great professionalism.

I sleep badly. In fact, right now I can't remember if I slept at all. What I do remember is when my water broke. Throughout my pregnancy I was wondering if I would notice... and I was worried about this, huh? Things that come along with being a first-time mom.  It is one of those things which you don't realise how obvious they are until you're pregnant and go through it. It is one of the strangest sensations that I've felt in my entire life. It was seven o'clock on the morning of December 15 2008, two days before my birthday (and yes, then it dawned on me that I should have programmed the twins' birth on my birthday. Now I'm lucky if people remember to wish me a happy birthday... as we've already celebrated the girls' birthday).

We leave our room and go back to the birthing rooms. The professionals at Taulí Hospital reassure me and calm me down. As matter of fact, I am very satisfied with the follow-up that they've done in the past four months. New tests. Estel is in the right position upside down, but Ona is crosswise. In the end it'll be a C-section. In no time we sign the documents and I am taken to the operation theatre. I realise that I barely take farewell from Jordi, my husband. I'm not aware of the moment. Right now, I am only aware that I have never been in an operation theatre. But I also know that when I leave it, I will never be the same again.

"If I could have ONE whole day to myself, I would..."

(This post has been inspired by @BritMums personal blogging prompt. It's been real fun!)

If I could have one whole day to myself, I would… wake up at 10am. I would buy a newspaper, walk into a café and have a wonderful coffee and a chocolate muffin…

Wait, no no no no no no …

If I could have one whole day to myself, I would start it at gym, doing some exercises and swimming a little bit (just to prove that I am paying the fee) and feeling very well ‘cause I am (finally) and sportive woman.

Wait, no no no no no…

I would call a good friend and we would spent the whole morning doing a shopathon. Oh yes, that would be great!. Trying on clothes (not in a rush and not just one) without shouting: “Don’t touch this”.

Wait, no… much better.

I would call my Wellness Centre (mine? I haven’t been there for three years. Sure they have even erased my name!) and I would make an appointment. Massages, natural therapies, manicure… The most expensive pack they have. After all, you don’t have such a lovely day… every single day.

But just thinking about it… Wait!.

I know one thing I don’t want to do. No cooking today. So I would try a nice restaurant, for sure. And I would love as well some time to read peacefully. And I would be great to make the photo album early in the afternoon and not just before midnight.

Wait, no, I have another idea!

 

Excuse me, what does it mean that my free day is OVER? :(

The truth about prenatal classes

The midwife that was assigned to us at the primary health centre was lovely.
I felt that I could trust her. What a pity that she got changed a few weeks after and her replacement... to be honest, it was as if I had no midwife at all. I would like to think that a midwife is a person who orients you, resolves your doubts and answers questions which might seem absurd but which you find crucial at that moment, when you haven't got a clue about a thing. But it wasn't exactly like that despite the fact that I was making the effort to take prenatal classes seriously. I thought that they would provide me with useful knowledge and that I would learn some exercises to reduce the swelling of my hands (I'd had enough of having them in salt and water). The very first class did seem that it was going to be useful... later to find out that every class was the same and did not provide me with anything interesting. (By the way, I went through the same experience with postnatal classes). What's more, I always found myself in a bind whenever the midwife explained anything because I had to ask again and again: "Excuse me, and when it's twins... How do you go about doing this? Or what is the best way for me to organise this?". And it was tiresome, because strangely enough, there was only a pair of twins in that class.  Mine.

So... why continue attending these classes (which were a major effort because the bump made it hard for me to go from home to the primary health clinic and I got extremely tired)? Basically because they helped create the most useful social network in the whole system. Getting to know a group of great women who were all pregnant at the same time and who gradually gave birth one after the other. I ran into some of them in postnatal classes. Now we still meet up with a group of moms and we still share the most valuable information. In fact, it was the only positive outcome form having that midwife. As I could not compare I didn't know if she was good or bad at her job, but I felt that I was not getting anything from her. It wasn't until the night of the 14th of December 2008 that I could confirm this hunch. It turns out that everybody knew her at the hospital once I told them which primary health clinic I came from. Gosh, how lucky I was, wasn't I?