Take a breath

Pic courtesy of Glen Jones

I always write a blog post on the ferry when we are crossing to the South Island. It’s a way of drawing a line between work and family/holiday time. I can get all those thoughts out of my head and stop my brain spinning.

That was the plan again today but of course it backfired. We were only round the second corner from home when we left yesterday and a 3 litre water bottle rolled off the bed and smashed onto the camper carpet. Lots of soaking up later we continued on our way to Wellington… only to stop 23 minutes later at the first McDonalds. Great staying power. Brett went inside in his gum boots and as he was leaving laden down with milkshakes he slipped on the greasy floor and did what he describes as the ‘ice skating dance’ culminating in a big crash and an injured knee. Thickshake all up the walls, they upsized his replacement though so it must have been a doozy.

I’m only sorry I missed it.

once in Welly the camper then shook in a howling gale all night that only the dog slept through. I have a completely irrational fear of sinking on a cruise ship and it looked like the ferry crossing to Picton at dawn was going to provide.

Checking in we nervously asked “What’s the sea like?” to the ferry lady… she shook her head and said “yeah…nah, we’re still going though”

Awesome.

Complaining to my midwifery mates about my imminent death one of them replied:

“Jesus Christ. Kimba, you have been an amazing friend. I will not take your dog coz she bites my child, but I will live in your home and occasionally text your children.

God speed x”

So reassuring. I like a good realist.

So yes it was five metre swells, the cut off for what they will cross over in. There was lots of vomiting and the odd scream. But mostly a lot of long “whoa!”s and free ginger beer. We were even given ice to suck on. The kitchen staff summed it up with a shouted “JESUS F*#*!!!” Followed by an almighty crash. Needless to say it wasn’t a dream crossing.

It took my mind off the roller coaster of mixed emotions I had been having for the last two weeks of work leading up to this holiday and the mandate ruling I could not return though. I had two babies left to arrive in that time and the usual long postnatal circuits to do.

The first baby to come was my clients fifth. The moon was just a slither so I hadn’t expected to be told the birth centre had no birthing rooms available when I phoned up. I pointed out that this woman’s third baby had been born in the car park and the last one just as they walked through the birth room door, so there was no hope of us making the next town. She saw my point and set up the dreaded education room for me.

Remember the last time - with the black sacs on the carpet?!?! I should have thought to take my own homebirth kit inside with me. It would have been easier than rifling through piles of containers looking for stuff. And although this time I had been upgraded to a shower curtain for carpet cover I did think running water and a staff bell in an emergency would also have been nice. Now it’s very hard to avoid bodily fluids when a squatting woman’s waters break and you are peaking. I wish she had been in the pool! Three babies were born within seven minutes that night. One in an actual birth room (lucky!), mine in the education room and another in a postnatal room. The poor staff midwife was racing to give us all supplies and check on us. Meanwhile the other one taking up a birth room got sent home not in actual labour 🤣. So much for my slither of a moon.

So anyhow that must have been how I got sick. The close contact with every bodily fluid possible. My hubby had been covid testing negative for a few days so he could go to work with his man flu. When I came down with it I assumed I had the same thing.

Talking to my final client who was due a few days later she informed me that she was postponing her appointment that day as a gastro bug had just gone through her house, I let her know that I didn’t feel too bloody good either but reassured us both that Mother Nature doesn’t let you have a baby when you are sick. Which is actually true! From my experience women get over their bugs before they go into labour. Energy is important. So we made the mutual decision we weren’t having a baby for 48 hours. Whew, I had the night off!

43 minutes later she rang back to say her waters had broken.

Noooo I felt like death. Quick covid test. Negative. Quick ring around to see if I could get a second midwife to support me if I couldn’t last the distance. Not a soul could help.

Shit. Ok. Try to nap.

VERY short nap then after an inspiring fast labour in the pool - with no other pain relief - this second time mama started to push, only about 30 minutes after our arrival. Another textbook and beautiful multip birth. Baby did crown a bit slowly for my liking and had me planning what I would do for a shoulder dystocia but eventually the chin came free and there was no turtling.

Yes turtling. If the babies shoulders are jammed against the pelvis then the head appears to ‘turtle’ in and out. Anyway, turns out this baby just had a larger than average head, which explains the slow crowning and then easy birthing of the shoulders. All was good in her world as she pinked up and met her mum and dad with a good yell.

Still feeling decidedly average I decided once the placenta had birthed if I needed to do any suturing I would try again to find a second midwife to give me a hand. It was now 5.00am and someone must be available 🤞.

Luckily no suturing was needed. So I didn’t ring anyone, they never would have forgiven me anyway as it didn’t go according to plan.

Well the first part did. The second part really, really did not. My last birth. Talk about going out with a bang.

Placenta out, baby fed, checked and weighed, mum fed and showered, observations normal for both, notes finished, so two hours after baby arrived it was time to head to the postnatal room for their 48 hour stay. The staff midwife took them down and my plan was to clean up the birth room, go and say goodbye and then just fall in to my bed. Maybe for days.

But no.

The staff midwife came back to tell me my client wanted me to check her blood loss. So down to the room I went. She was walking round happy as. We went into the bathroom to show me her pad. Then she suddenly went a bit woozy (medical term 😉) and sat down very quickly on the loo. I rubbed her fundus to see if it was firm and central and to expel any clots. There weren’t any. Then she proceeded to faint while her hubby dived in to stop her crashing to the ground. She went stiff in the middle of her fifteen second faint but then came right and was talking to us again. I didn’t really take notice of the stiffness at that point. I’ve never had a client faint on me before. Only a bystander! I had pushed the emergency bell during her episode and the staff midwife was heading off to get some honey water when it happened again. This time the faint led to clonic tonic all over body convulsions.

Well that was next level. This woman was well, no history of convulsions, a normal birth with normal estimated blood loss, no allergies, no reason for this! So the staff midwife ran to get the gear so I could put an IV line in whilst she rang an ambulance.

Then it happened for a third time. Well f*#* this was not cool. The dad was bloody awesome and I was faking being calm quite well I thought, because there’s not a lot else to do! You hear your own voice from a distance and think how unnaturally calm you sound. By the time the ambos arrived some fluids had gone through and she had better colour, no longer grey and sweaty. She was bitterly disappointed that she had to transfer. I wasn’t. This was out of my skill set, I wanted her checked out by some flash brain person. One faint from a too hot shower post birth can be explained and remedied. This was next level.

She remained well at hospital and the obstetric registrar explained she would need head scans, that a neurologist would be in to see her. They were concerned it was epilepsy. That would mean someone would have to be with her at all times as she cared for baby, that she shouldn’t even carry her across the room until the risk was mitigated. Not good.

So I crossed my fingers for her, handed over her care to a nurse and phoned my hubby, waking him up to drive in and get me. I phoned the staff midwife at the birthcentre to update and thank her while I waited, whilst slurping on coffee from the dairy in the rain.

That’s when she told me she had thought my client might have been having an amniotic fluid embolism (AFE - google it, it’s as bad as it gets in our world) And that’s when I had a massive adrenaline surge and wanted to vomit in the gutter. Until then I had actually been coping well.

I hadn’t let my brain go to considering AFE. There’s nothing that can be done for it anyway. But why hadn’t I thought of it? Was I just too much in the moment? Too sick? Did I know it wasn’t actually that? Was I protecting us all, because if I thought it was that lige threatening I surely couldn’t have remained calm enough to help her?

I’ll never know.

She’s doing great now, later that day they diagnosed the sudden movement and a lowered iron level (still within normal range though) caused a vaso vagel response and the subsequent seizures. They had no concerns that it would happen again.

And just like that life goes on.

When I got home that morning of course I tested positive for covid. So instead of heading to bed the logistics needed to be sorted first. My normal locum had covid herself and I had been covering her 🙄. Now we were both up shit creek. Eventually cover was found for us both. I phoned my postnatal client (of the education room birth three days before). I was supposed to be visiting that day and she said she was about to ring to tell me she tested positive the night before. Now I knew where I got it from, gotta love those bodily fluids 😬.

So then I had a horrible week of headaches, nausea and generally feeling sorry for myself. I was set free still shattered, with a couple of days spare to visit all my postnatal clients and say my final goodbyes. Their care would be going to someone else.

And that’s how I found myself on the ferry. Me, my man and my dog. And our sick bags. Using this holiday as a transition to keep my mind off stopping being a midwife.

We drove off the boat still a bit green and were getting so blown around on the road to Kaikoura we stopped at a gorgeous little secluded bay and parked up. Walked along the beach in the worst weather ever, fought our way back through the wind and hail, got out the blue cheese and crackers, poured a gin gifted from a lovely client and just…

…stopped.

Where to next nobody knows as per the pic above. (Although now I have an exemption up my sleeve I can get a couple more months to help out my colleagues when we get home).

Thank you for following my posts and sharing the last few years of this wonderful, unique, uplifting, but often exhausting journey with me. Tonight I am going to turn my phone off and NOT set out my birthing clothes in the next room. I may even have a ceremonial throwing of the emergency cardboard OSM bars into the sea.

But I bet I bloody won’t sleep! Murphy loves me.

Kimba x