This time last year, I was in labour.
I had already been sent home by the midwife at the hospital because I wasn’t in established labour. I was in pain and getting hacked off.
It seems so surreal to remember it. It almost feels as though I’ve made it up and I wonder if my memories of it are somewhat skewed.
I remember laying in the bath, and after 45 minutes being to uncomfy to stay in there.
I remember it being incredibly painful to lay down, but my contractions were in the top of my legs, so standing up was impossible.
I remember The Husband telling me to eat and drink. I only wanted chocolate and blackcurrant squash.
I remember every bump in the car on the way to the hospital.
I remember being told to stop screaming by the midwife as I was scaring the other ladies in the triage ward.
I remember being helped down the corridor whilst heavily relying on the wonderful gas that was making me slightly spaced out.
I remember thing the anaesthetist how much I loved him after he cited my epidural and then apologising to The Husband.
I remember the rest of the time being quite relaxed and peaceful.
The midwives were lovely.
The doctors were lovely.
Then I had to go to theatre.
A year ago today.
Cannot believe my baby is almost 1.
They don’t stay little forever.