Susan Hayden is an Irish Times staff member who recently had her first child, Tim. She will be writing a fortnightly column on what life is like as a new mother
Work had been very busy prior to taking maternity leave and I was looking forward to the time off. I also had a list of things I wanted to get done before the baby arrived, but things, naturally, didn't go quite according to plan.
Having had a fairly easy pregnancy, revenge struck in the form of Symphysis Pubis dysfunction the day I went on leave. This occurs when the ligaments around the front of your pelvis loosen (often happens when the baby engages) and the pubic bones rub against each other. It is similar to the pain you would experience if you walked into the corner of a table. I ended up in casualty on Sunday where I was told I would probably need to be fitted for a support corset. Unfortunately this could only be done by the physiotherapy department, which doesn't open at the weekends. Meanwhile, I was prescribed some painkillers and sent home.
My maternity leave was over before it started. Faced with the prospect of getting the Dart to the hospital in rush hour I didn't go back for the corset. I was confined to bed, throwing myself on my husband like a limpet each evening when he came home, in desperation brought on by total boredom. I tried to persuade him to go late to work, to leave early or even not to go at all - his duty was to entertain me. Convincingly deaf at times, he continued as normal.
Mum and dad came to visit, bringing with them a chest-of-drawers for the baby's room - and a pair of crutches. We are an accident-prone family and I am only surprised by the fact that we didn't have a spare corset lying around somewhere also. The crutches made me feel better, but I had forgotten how much I hate using them, and consequently they may well cause the next accident, lying where I left them on the floor, waiting to trip someone up.
The pain having dissipated one day, I took myself off to visit a friend who had recently had a baby. At three weeks she is sleeping six hours a night and I have yet to see her cry. I have tried, arriving at feeding times, phoning when she's just gone to sleep, but nothing seems to work. I also went to my sister-in-law's one day. After spending about an hour bouncing two four-year-olds and one two-year-old on my knees, I can assure you this activity does not bring on labour.
During my last few days of freedom, I went to Mothercare, where I suffered the ignominy of being fitted for a nursing bra. The fact that I can now compete with Jordan did nothing to alleviate the embarrassment of having to bare all to the sales assistant - I couldn't have changed bras faster had I been Wonder Woman. I also took a side-trip to a bookstore where I stocked up for the extra week I was certain I would have. Everyone had told me that first babies always came late. To prove them wrong, the baby arrived early. I was woken up by very bad back pain at 4.30 a.m. on March 26th. Not usually someone to suffer in silence, I was too surprised to wake my husband and wandered around downstairs in confusion for the next two hours before calling Holles Street. I had no idea what a contraction felt like but was sure this wasn't it. In spite of my conviction, the night sister told me to come in and I woke my husband and off we went, surprisingly calmly, and still expecting to be told to go home, that back pain was a normal part of the pre-events. Still surprised, I was admitted and wheeled off to Unit 3 (a pre-labour ward). I was having pre-labour contractions (something I had never heard of - I must have slept through most of the ante-natal classes). Thirteen hours later, I was moved to the labour ward. With the aid of the fantastic Holles Street staff, one epidural, an episiotomy, large doses of oxytocin and a ventouse (suction) delivery, Tim was born at 10.05 p.m.