| Firstly, Steve and I resolved the whole iphone issue! We talked it through and I relayed all that I felt, he really was very sorry, I forgave him and we've moved on. Back to the closeness and enjoying each other's company as before. I don't have any doubts about us or him or anything now, and its a relief to have it sorted out. We had a meeting with the Nanny about her lack of enthusiasm and not being more aware of safety issues. She was receptive to what we had to say, not talkative, but just nodded in agreement. We also had a telephone meeting with the college to reiterate our concerns and the outcome of the meeting. They supported us and met with her on Thursday. The feedback that they offered was that she is incredibly witheld, won't participate in lessons, but did during a one on one express her appreciation for our family and apparantly holds us in high regard, which comes to a surprise because she is so forlorn. Her personality really is like that of a cardboard box and I've seen more enthusiasm from a snail on a lettuce leaf when it comes to her job. We decided to take it as comes. On Friday, Steve told me that she had given Moons a hard boiled sweet (without permission), which had consequently got stuck in her throat. Although the situation was not serious enough for her to choke, she could still get air in, the situation terrified her. Luckily Steve was home to take care of her. He had to calm her down to ensure the sweet carried its correct journey downwards and had to reassure her. I asked him if he felt the Nanny would have been confident enough to deal with the situation had he not have been there. Its all very well having a First Aid certificate, its something else knowing how to call on those skills when the time needs it. He honestly couldn't guage from her reaction, which has left us with a slightly uneasy feeling. Although we anticipate her needing time and guidance, we don't anticipate having to tell the Nanny about the girls on the stairs AND giving sweets to youngsters. Grrroan. So, the week has been a little stressful and I've been feeling increasingly unwell. My ability to hold down and in fluids was getting really bad, and I was feeling weak. Although I'm not concerned about my own welfare, if it was just me, I would rest up for a couple of days, I started to grow concerned about the impact on the baby. I've been really stressed, not sleeping well, and constant headaches are a sure sign that I'm getting dehydrated. On Friday morning, after yet another bad night, I felt this weird feeling of being in a bubble. It was like I could see everyone around me and hear them, but felt somehow removed. My concentration levels were at an all time ( which is saying something!!) and if I stood for slightly too long, I felt like passing out. I called the midwife, who told me to see the GP for some medication and electrolytes. I couldn't get in until late in the afternoon, and again, I was concerned for the baby, who's movements had started to slow down. I decided that as I wasn't feeling up for a drive on the motorway to the city, I would check myself into the local clinic (Kenepuru) which I noticed had a maternity wing. I felt confident they'd be able to check me in, see the baby on the ultrasound, reassure me and I could be home in time for lunch with Steve. Well, that was the plan. When I arrived, no one in the clinic seemed to know how I could be referred to the adjoining maternity wing. Furthermore, they were packed and I would have to wait at least two hours to see a Doctor that may or may not be able to help me. I decided to wait it out, deciding that if I did get worse, I was *probably* in the best place. I was the only non Maori in waiting room. A triage nurse floated amongst us asking personal questions about why we were there, which I found a little alarming. To my right side sat a boy of about 14. He had hurt his arm at school when he slipped over in mud. The school had asked his Father to come and get him and take him to A + E. His Father was NOT happy with the boy. He told him repeatedly he was a 'f*cking pussy' for crying. He was 'wasting two f*cking hours, being in this sh*thole' for an arm that probably wasn't broken'. Afterall, at his age he had 'broken his f*cking arm twice, collar bone and knee.' And he certainly hadn't cried about it. The boy apologised and said he had asked the school nurse for some panadol, but they'd insisted he get x-rayed. His Dad continued this tirade of abuse and at one point kicked his leg to wind him up about crying. Then there was this woman across from me with a football team of kids, one of them was ill. The nurse asked if the child had a temperature, had she given any medication and what were the symptoms. The woman just stared blankly, said she didn't know. I could feel myself becoming increasingly more anxious. I started to get contractions, which is nothing unusual, until I was able to time them. Every 5 minutes. I went back over to the nurse and expressed my concern to her. She took me around to a bed and told me she'd get the Doctor right away. I was put at ease when an English female Dr came to me. She listened to my symptoms and I was quick to explain that I wasn't an irrational pregnant woman, but I'd had complications in the past which made me anxious and I was feeling particularly unwell. She told me that they didn't have the facilities to check the baby there, but she would refer me to the city hospital. She would also call my OB to tell her to expect me. I got my car keys and started to organise myself, she told me she wouldn't expect me to drive and would instead arrange a lift. I anticipated a minibus that carried other referrals to the hospital, so I was quite surprised when two ambulance officers came to my room with a bed! I said I would rather walk and was again surprised to find an ambulance waiting for me. Initially I felt really guilty, surely this ambulance would be best used for someone needing urgent medical treatment, I did afterall, have my car in the carpark. But then I suddenly thought, wow, they must think its really serious! I climbed aboard my chariot and bantered with the guys, who I must say were extremely warm and friendly. The whole time my contractions continued and I felt a growing sense of unease. I also worried how the hell would I tell Steve where I was without panicking the hell out of him. I knew he was in meetings in the morning, and I also knew that I needed him to pick me up at some stage as well! It was the first time I would see the delivery suite. I had only just read in the paper about the urgent shortage of incubators for babies in need of intensive care. At any one point there was ONLY ONE incubator available. Not to mention the number of recent deaths at the hospital, not just newborns, Mothers as well. The NZ healthcare system is taking one hell of a battering recently and the reports are dreadful. The UK has somewhat of an excuse in that the population is growing at such a dramatic rate, but the NZ population is dwindling and taxes are higher here! So whats the deal with that?! Although I pay for private healthcare, unfortunately there is no private maternity wing in Wellington, so I am at the mercy of the public facilities. My only reassurance is that I pay through the nose for an OB, so I better get all the care and attention my money buys! The area was nothing to write home about. I don't know how the captial city's hospital can look older than the actual country! There seemed to be stuff everywhere. My own OB was in emergency surgery, so I had one of her assistant's come and wire me up. The wiring up took forever because she couldn't find all the bits she needed, and when she had finally completed the set, she went to put gel on my belly and took an empty bottle instead. She complained about how they were really short of staff and everything was disorganised. Great. Just what an anxious Mother wants to hear. In the distance I heard the cry of a newborn baby and occasionally the sounds of a woman wailing in pain drifted down the corridor. The reality of how much I want this baby and I want it healthy hit me like a sledgehammer. I went from strong and rational to pathetic and lonely in a nano second. I still toyed with how the hell I was going to get Steve there. In the end, knowing I would break down over the phone I sent a text, it simply said, 'Don't rush, don't panic, but can you meet me at the del suite in Welly.' I reasoned that if it was urgent, he'd know they'd call him, and it could be that I was just having a tour or something. The last thing I wanted was for him to come charging over and either wrapping himself around a lamp post or loosing his license. Apparantly my plan failed, it was further made worse by his entrance into the room to see me wired up to a richter scale, a HUGE drip in my arm and a midwife poking my arm for blood. One look at his shocked face, and I burst into tears. The upshot of it was, I had become very dehydrated. This is turn had triggered contractions which were registering regularly. My OB reviewed the output and told me I would need to spend the night in hospital so that if necessary they could adminster drugs to stop labour and if needed, prepare the baby for an early birth. Furthermore, they could concentrate on getting fluids into me. I really, really didn't want to stay in hospital. Lying underneath the unforgiving glare of hospital lights on a rock hard bed, surrounded by screaming babies was not appealing to me. After the first enormous bag of fluid finished, I felt surprisingly refreshed and looked forward to the next one!! - I usually HATE drips and have in the past been known to take them out myself! I suffer with claustrophobia anyway, although I'm not scared of needles. There is something about having something literally under your skin and being connected by a plastic tube to a bag that really unnerves me. Often hospital staff bugger around with it, taking ages to get it and then take twice as long taking it off again. In this instance though, despite it feeling bloody uncomfortable, I didn't mind at all. The baby's heart rate maintained a consistant rythme and importantly, was not being distressed by the contractions. After the second bag, I reasoned with the OB that I would get more rest at home, I would sip water all night and if the contractions got worse OR I got very sick again, I would go back. She advised me against this plan, but really had no choice. Besides I miss my two other daughters. I made the right decision, the contractions finally subsided during the night, and I was able to get more rest. The next morning I told Steve I really wanted a road trip! He thought I'd gone bonkers! But I was keen for a change of scenery and needed to unwind. We wouldn't have to go far, but I would rather stay over night. Knowing that my mind was made up, we drove up to Ohakune. On arrival we fell lucky with a great two bedroom suite in a nice hotel. It was warm and the owner was very friendly. We all went out for dinner, and the girls were so good and excited about it all. This morning we hoped that Steve would be able to take Moons skiing, but annoyingly the mountain was closed because of high winds! We didn't even get to see any snow! It rained a lot, but it was so nice to be away and take in the countryside scenery. I didn't want to be away too long - just in case. So we set off this morning and got home a few hours ago. It was SO nice to get away. The first time in a long time, and it will probably be quite some time before we do it again. Also, its our last holiday as the four of us! Next time, we'll have three kids! EEK! |