We were called into the clinic for our usual check to see that everything was okay at 35 weeks. Bog standard stuff. But still I wore my heels and make-up. Have to balance the bump somehow! With just over a month to go it was all very exciting. I had just got to the stage where i could have asked people to give up their seat on public transport. Nice and round. However my complete aversion to any form of public Transport (it's common) meant I had not had the pleasure of disturbing asnf inconveniencing a hoodie misfit youth on a bus. Havng anticipated no difficulties whatsoever my wonderful and much adored friend Janet had travelled up from Leicester for a day and a night, and we had planned Lunch at the Cross Foxes.

Horror of horrors since 'junior' was lying the wrong way it was deemed neccasary for me to be kept in. Mad spinning baby had spun again. After much pleading we were allowed out for lunch as long as we returned by five. So it was off to the pub for last cigarettes and wine before the incarceration.

I was deposited back at the hospital for an initial 48 hours with hopes that baby would turn, all would be well, and we could wait for a normal delivery. I was eager to get out as Cheltenham was around the corner and the Gold Cup. Plus I did not take kindly to sharing space with Jeremy Kyle 'Fodder'. The things I witnessed. It had been bad enough first time around on the HDU and Cardiac wards.... How do these women even know they're pregnant? How do their babies get out? It must be like fighting your way out from underneath a double mattress. And why are they allowed to breed? HOW do they breed? The Swathes of fat and poundage should be a deterrent. But obviously not. I then got to see their partners..... It was nearly all too much. Not one of them was normal.. Those midwives deserve medals. I would not venture up there. And they all needed things doing to them to get them 'started'. I could have given them a tip or two. Leave the pies alone, and walk around a bit. Foreign concept obviously, but it could have helped. These women were like a swarm of locusts around the food trolley. Trampling over newborns and old people as they wentt. What do they eat normally? I wouldn't have rushed that much to eat in a famine!

Anyway, any hopes of leaving the hospital were dashed as baby kept on turning every few hours, and all options were discussed. Caesarean/Induce.natural etc etc. I watched the Gold Cup bouncing up and down on a green birthing ball, having wrenched the remote control from the hands of 'Loopy Laura' in the corner. And was delighted that Denman won, as myself and the only other ordinary person in there, Zoe, were running a book on the ward as to the results. We made a killing.

So time marched on with very few distractions, especially the weekends, when nothing much happened at all. There was always a flurry of excitement on Mondays when the Consultants came back in as everyone expected some action. Patients came and went, babies arrived and left, and still we sat there. Then things started to go horribly wrong for myself and junior when my heart started to go wonky again. We were moved into an observation room, and kept there indefinately so that Cardiology could get to us easily. Hooked up to monitors, not allowed to move, no excitement (no Coronation Street then) and lots of drugs. My heart due to the added strain had started to have tachycardic (SP?)episodes back to back. Coupled with Atrial Fibrillation and a pulseless SVT, I was either red hot, sweating and breathless, or ice cold, blue and without a pulse. Technically dead. (But still able to speak! What a trick!!) The easiest way to shock my body out of it was either with a massive dose of drugs, or by electric shock. Real kill or cure type stuff. This went on for about a week, and the attacks were getting longer and more frightening and more difficult to cope with. This was not doing my darling baby much good (and the Crash team were getting pretty knackered) so Mr Roseblade - who forever shall be my hero - made the decision to lift him out by the escape hatch. He had stopped growing, despite initially my body protecting him from all the shenanigans. I later learned that having Mr Roseblade operate was akin to having God in the room. (No more cracks allowed about men having no sense of direction and never asking for directions....)

Phone calls flew and the troops gathered. Janet dashed up from Leicester and Paul left work for the Op at 1.30pm. I was suited and booted and prepared. The Anaesthetic guys were wonderful and explained that due to the heart thing i was having to be given an epidural to start with to prevent my heart and therefore adrenalin reacting to any pain, and that i was going under general because of having to potentially shock my heart again. I was covered in pads and wore a nightie that displayed my backside to the world. Gone were my illusions of a black silk peignoir..................

The wheelchair ride to theatre was uneventful....they wouldn't allow me to travel solo, and so I was pushed. No Racing allowed in the corridors. Much like being at school. No fun.

I was a bit taken aback upon arrival to find 16 people already there. Three were heart surgeons. There was lots of cutlery laid out ready, just in case. I also felt a bit left out, as I was the only one not in blue, and i was also the only one without a trendy hat. Thank God I had straightened my hair for the occasion.

The epidural took a bit of doing, and we had to have a couple of bashes at it and move it down a vertabrae or two. Then the funniest thing was trying to get the pumps into my hand. A lifetime of being outdoors meant that they didn't so much 'let me feel a small prick' x about 6, as HARPOON me, due to the leatherlike quality of my skin. I felt like orca the killer whale.

And that for me was that. Until I came round. Paul heard his first cry, gave his first feed, and changed his first nappy. I was wheeled to HDU where I stayed until the next day. Odd to have given life, and then be parked with the dying. Theodore and I were very anxious to leave.

Seeing my Son for the first time........well, life changed forever, inexorable, indefinable, and for the better. I am his slave, and he is my absolute everything (Along with Daisy the Dachshund and Ludwig etc of course!). This wonky heart will keep on beating for him

We made it back to Simpson Ward the next day where we were back in observation, and hooked up to monitors again. Apart from one blip which set us back a few days we did well and were allowed back into the community the following week.

Theodore weighed 6 lbs 4ozs when he arrived. He would have been 24 ozs heavier, but for being early and my heart thing getting to us in the end. He is putting on weight like a trooper, feeding and sleeping well. And is endlessly entertaining.

I am forever grateful and indebted to the ladies of the ward, who to my mind should be paid about £100,000 a year + bonuses. In particular the ladies who are planning to 'put something in the water' where the social workers are currently at their busiest. They in turn think I would make a great PM. However i am going to leave that to my son.....actually on the other hand, NO! I am bringing him up to be a decent honest and trustworthy human being. Scrap that idea!

So, here he is. And what a little star. Deep happy sighs! My heart op I think is in May so beware, I will be rebuilt and be like a new woman. Already we are planning the training regime for the lead rein gymkhana games......

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Comment by Maria Wynne on June 17, 2008 at 8:21am
Hey Barbara!

Posted another one for you now!

Yep, the leather skin thing. I challenge any skincare company to come up with a solution for us horsey girls!
Comment by Barbara F. on June 17, 2008 at 8:07am
I love this story. So glad you posted it!
p.s. Sadly, I can relate to the leather skin thing!

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