James Edward Houghton




James was born at 12.50pm on Monday 24 September 2007 weighing in at 7lbs exactly. So not the whopper we were led to believe! He's much, much darker than Will, olive skinned and just a completely different baby. It makes us realise how traumatised by his birth William must have been, because James sleeps, feeds, gurgles quietly and does all the things that Will NEVER did. Plus his head is the right shape (although much smaller!). Thank heavens.


As for the gory details....


We got to Reading at 8.00am and had to sit around in a waiting room until about 11.15 when a midwife came in with my gown and Eddie's scrubs so we could get changed in the loo. We were then taken to the delivery room and I was given a local anaesthetic in my back, followed by the spinal. Horrible. I am so squeamish at the best of times and the whole concept makes my flesh creep. Got the shakes again, but not as badly as first time round. Eventually your legs go completely dead, they feel like rocks and that's when Jane came in wearing a hawaiian shirt and bandana, armed with knives and scissors all set to go.

It's a very strange feeling having a baby removed from your tummy. One minute you're as tight as a drum and the next all your skin collapses and the next thing you hear is a scream. James was extremely cross about being removed! But this time I actually had a chance to see him before he was checked over and then he was handed to me. No blue eyes blinking up this time - James' were tight shut - he didn't want to know.
Then it was off to recovery where you supposed to stay for 2 hours before moving up to the ward. Not for me...it turned out that last time they'd botched the job, Jane said my bladder looked 'like a Bedouin tent' and that sewing me up was like 'sewing wet blotting paper.' G.R.E.A.T. I ended up bleeding heavily and being put on a Syntocin drip to try to force contractions to expel the clots that hadn't come out. Suddenly there seemed to be a room full of people all trying to stick needles in me and talking about transfusions and even taking me back into theatre. I couldn't focus on anything. Just zoned out in a bubble trying not to panic.
Thank goodness I rallied and finally at 9.00pm James and I made it up onto Iffley Ward.
The following day, cathetered to the bed and feeling like I'd been hit by a train, wasn't great. I fainted just getting into a chair and despaired of every being able to move again. Even to feed I had to buzz the nurses. Eddie came to visit before lunch and finally after some decent food (I'd only had 2 pieces of toast in 36 hours) I managed to hobble as far as the loo and finally clawed back a bit of dignity/independence.
Have got steadily stronger since then and James and I made it home on Thursday evening, very relieved to be reunited with the family. Now it's a case of taking things very slowly and hopefully building up my strength over the coming weeks.

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