08-5-2009 - Brandon Steven Birth 26/05/89

My mood while writing this blog: Blessed

Brandon is now a grown man, but still my baby.

I got pregnant with him when I was 16 years old and had him a month before I was 17 years old. I didnt even know I was pregnant for the first 12 weeks, I missed my first scan because of it, and the only scan I saw was my 20 week one. And I nearly missed that one for my widely known lateness...

When I found I was pregnant I nearly fell through the floor, I physically felt the chair I was sat in opposite the doctor drop to ground level from the first floor we were on. I had thought the doc was mad for testing me for being pregnant, I was on the pill after all, Derrr? It turned out, no one had explained to me that the pill doesnt work if you catch a stomach bug...eeep. I was already 12 weeks.

Strangely enough, the morning sickness started the very next day...shrug.

The food craving was KFC with strawberry jam.

I had been orphaned as a young child, so I rang my gran to share my news (I was very happy now) she quietly told me, "it is no surprise, you hoar, you have been nothing but a let down since you were born..." I was beside myself, I later found out as an adult, she had her first child at 16 out of wedlock aswell.

My boyfriend and I had been together since I was 14, loved each other to bits, he was 18 and very concerned with providing for the baby. I gave up smoking the min I found out and we moved 180 miles back home to his mum's house.

He landed a fabulous job with ICI and I got on with cooking the baby, strangely enough age showing as I got bigger so did my collection of disney drawings I drew up and coloured constantly. I dont know if they were ever for the baby or me. Reverting to childhood maybe...shrug?

As I got bigger so did my blood pressure, it just kept going up and up, eventually I was hospitalised...and they decided to induce me 2 days after my due date. 10pm they gave me the pessary, they then gave me two sleeping tablets and told me to go to bed, at 12am I felt a huge bearing down but was scared because I felt high, all dizzy headed and sleepy, so I staggered to the toilet 4 or 5 times, eventually I went to the Sister on the ward to explain I was in pain, scared and it was getting worse, she told me to go to bed. And I did.

5 mins later I was up again, and again and again, until she shouted at me to get my ass in bed or she was gunna throw me out, I was crying by now, and a couple of the other mothers to be were concerned and tried to help, they all got shouted at aswell, mind they gave their own answers loudly and the Sister who still hadnt even looked at me properly went back to her brew and magazine and told us to do it ourselves.

I went to bed and laid in agony until just before 6am, because I wanted the other poor expectant women to go to sleep, my tablets were wearing off and the pain was horrendous by now, I got out of bed again, just as the change over of the sisters was going on, I staggered around the corner and a huge contraction racked my body and I collapsed into the new sisters arms. She screamed for a porter and picked me up, demanding the other sister ran me an immediate bath, and I was placed in the water crying with relief that she believed me.

They realised I was in my last stage and had been in full active labour the whole night long, (the night sister was later demoted and ordered for retraining, I got a full apology) I was rushed down to labour ward, plonked on a bed, a nurse sat in the corner and they tried to contact my boyfriend, my uncle finally woke his sister who got him into hospital, he walked in at 20 past 7 in the morning, I had just had a injection of pethadine administered, without my asking nor wanting, also it was not on my birthplan, which was never read by any hospital staff...and 8 mins later I gave birth to Brandon in two pushes, he was blue and in shock, the injection was given too late, I was high as a kite and pushed to one side as they tried to resucitate him. After what seemed an age and me stating to scream "help my baby"...a huge coloured doctor walked in picked him up by the feet and slapped once very hard on his bum, the resounding wahhhhh was much relieving. The poor mite had his hand print on his bum for 2 months, and a fear of coloured people until he was around 2.

I loved my baby to bits...he was perfect even with his bum print...He was 6lbs 12oz and a little star.

I was convinced I would never have another child if you were treated so bad. It turned out everyone else were treated fabulous it was an age thing!!!