I need plans!  I have finally come to accept that when things do not go to plan it is not the end of the world but I still like to have them for most things.

The romantic in me had my birth plan all sorted. By birth plan I mean I planned the moment that I announced to my husband that our anticipated baby Jelly Bean was coming. It went a little something like this;

I would be looking radiant, stunning and the picture of pregnancy perfection. I would have cleared up after a lovely dinner and would be sipping a cup of tea when I calmly turn to him and say “Sweetheart, our baby is coming”. To this he would kiss me, pick up my suitcase and we would drive to the hospital. Have the baby and announce our joy to the world. Birth Plan CHECK! Ok so I know that most people are more concerned about planning the birth itself but I figured I would be fine, there were medical staff and our private Obstetrician to help me with that particular bit.

So I was organised. Pre Natal classes were booked to begin a few weeks on our return from New Zealand.  I would do some more reading about the finer “details” of going into labour after our much needed holiday. I was not taking with me a single book. I usually do not leave the house without a book because “You just never know when you might get some reading time”.  I was not going to get reading time, I was going to be totally focussed on my husband and our trip. I now have reverted to my previous belief system and carry a book everywhere again (even with two children and no time to drink a glass of water).

On the first full day of our trip I was not being a picture of glowing pregnancy. My back ached so much I needed help getting out of the car. I was freezing cold, but I was in New Zealand and I do hate the cold so that particular complaint did not count. I should have known I was a little ill. I ordered pumpkin soup for dinner at this gorgeous little cafe the evening before. For a lover of food, pumpkin soup just isn’t normally an acceptable dinner.

Our first full day in NZ was nice, apart from my need to be helped out of the car because my back was still sore, I could barely breathe let alone move. Yes ok that should have given it away right there but I was jumping around like a crazy person with my ballet students four days prior so I was blaming that. Captain Happy went for a run later that afternoon whilst I curled up in the hotel room, with the heating on high. NZ was honestly freezing. On his return Captain Happy instantly complained that the room was ridiculously hot. I was indignant! I informed him that I was cold and that was that. Mind you there may or may not have been a pregnant lady sneaking off to the shower about five minutes after that discussion.  Said pregnant lady might have also been drinking a glass of water in the shower, using two hand because she was shaking with cold so much.

Ok, so I am not the most intelligent person when it comes to signs that things with my body are not good. Thankfully my husband knows how to pull the heart strings. Convincing me that even though I am “just getting a cold” we should just check on the baby considering the flight and all. Off to outpatients we went. A couple of tests later and we have a kidney infection. I was stoked, I would get some anti-biotics (not so great but there are worse things) and I would feel better in the morning and we could enjoy our holiday. Wrong! I was being admitted. I had never been in hospital in my life and now I am in a different country being imprisoned to a hospital bed. Not happy but honestly was feeling too sick to argue too much. My temperatures were causing concern.

How can this be, I never get sick. A cold her and there, nasty headache and that was it. I would endure the injustice and be on my way tomorrow. Tomorrow turned into the next day but I had ket my temp down over night (like I actually get a choice) and I wanted out. With the speech prepared in my head I patiently waited for the doctors to do their rounds.  My partner in crime (driver of the getaway car) was nowhere to be found either. I came up with the perfect idea of ensuring they all arrived. I would waddle my way to the bathroom. Everything happens when you “quickly” go to the bathroom. Indeed it did.

Discoveries were made on my trip to the bathroom. I was in labour. I did not realise this straight away. I even had a midwife ask how on earth could I be 4-6cm and not have any idea. Well my dear midwife, unlike you I have not done this before, nor do I deliver babies every day at work. I talk fuel and regulations not babies and breathing. Ever the in control freak I did ask the doctor if I was really quiet could I possibly get in the car, drive straight to Auckland, get on a plane and at least get to Sydney. Please remember I was in shock and was yet to do my all-important labour research.

Apparently the only flying I was doing was in a helicopter to a hospital that could deal with the baby.

That was what the medical staff had planned. Little Jelly bean however was not willing to share the helicopter with mummy and was coming. Four hours later this tiny little rabbit type creature was quickly shown to me before being whisked out of the room.

Our daughter was born. We were parents. Now that I had done that job it was time for a shower. I was in shock. I was given a task, deliver the baby. Well I had done what was asked. It was not the moment that is aspired to my most women. I had dry eyes, I still had doctors working at the other end of my body (like they had no seen enough over the last five hours), the baby was wrapped and whisked away. Where was that moment that everyone promises, where was the rush of love, that natural incredibly addictive “high” that everyone talks of.

It had been lost, lost in the shock that our precious little baby was here too early. What was too early? Does this early arrival mean endless days in hospitals? Does it mean she was not coming home? Was she fully developed? Was she even alive? We had just become parents of a 30+4week premmie baby and we had absolutely no idea what was in store for us.