So... we'll start off with the birth of my baby son.

I was 38+5 when I went into labour at 12:23am. I was busy looking for "signs" that it was going to happen, I was miserable, I just wanted the baby out, It was hard to sleep and I was anxious to meet my child. I also wanted to prove to my family that my fears were justified about me making a 300 mile trip up north, that yes, I would have gone into labour up there and then I would have been stuck. My grandmother had passed away 6 days beforehand which is why they wanted me there. I felt terrible about it but my blood pressure was sky high and I'd already had a show. My midwife was sure it was going to happen soon and I just knew that if I did go up, I'd end up giving birth in a field somewhere halfway up the country.
I had 4 contractions in a row, and I remember thinking, "oh shit, maybe this really is it". Terry was playing on the computer at the time and I was watching TV, he asked if I wanted a cigarette (yes, I know, smoking while pregnant, yes, I felt bad, but you try being 300 miles away from your family when they lose someone and you can't get up there) and we went outside. I told him I'd had 4 mild contractions in a row, coming every 10 minutes, and that this might be it but I wasn't sure. I told him I'd tell him what was going on and he promised to be there for me.
The contractions didn't stop. They gradually got more painful although it was a slow process. Most of the pain was focused on my lower back, and it actually felt more painful than the period type pains I was expecting. I sat on my little pouffe next to Terry on the PC and watched him play his game. When the pain got bad he started rubbing my back for me, which eased the pain a little. The pains were getting stronger but I wanted to stay at home for as long as possible.
At 5am I called the hospital because the pains were starting to really get to me. After being on hold for a long time, I spoke to a midwife who asked if I could stay at home a while longer because, "we're a bit full at the moment". Terry wasn't pleased with that! I got the usual - take some paracetamol and have a bath - but we didn't have any paracetamol. I said I'd try and stick it out and then I phoned my parents.
I spoke to my mum first, she gave me the paracetamol and bath line (here's the thing, baths don't help me when I'm in pain, they just remind me that it hurts. I'm stuck in one place and can't move around so much. I'm the kind of person to thrash around or at least walk around when I'm in a lot of pain). She told me to keep going, call her if anything happened, and to call her when we went to the hospital. Then I phoned my dad - he was sleepy, seemed happy but none to concerned as I was basically telling him "I'm in labour but it's probably early and I'm not going into hospital yet". Again, I said I would call if I went to the hospital.
We'd run out of cigarettes and the pain was quite intenseso me and Terry went to the 24 hour garage to get some paracetamol. I drove - probably not the best idea in the world but it hurt quite a lot and it also helped to get out of the house. My parking was the worst ever though! I was past caring by that point.
When we got back Terry called his mum up. They were on the phone for ages. I was pacing the living room floor, having contractions which were coming quite quickly, and shooting daggers at Terry every time he looked at me. He finally got the hint and told her he'd call her back if anything happened. I didn't mean to get so mad with him but I needed his help - encouraging words, back rubs, everything. It was starting to hurt so much and I was scared that I wouldn't be able to cope later on.
Finally at 7am I cracked and rang the hospital again. They said ok, come on in. Terry got my bag, I rang my parents again and Terry rang his mum. I had an awful conversation with my mum, it was my grandmother's funeral and I had to know when I could contact her. I remember her telling me she would me with my grandad until about 11, then I couldn't contact her between 12 and about half 1. I didn't think there would be anything to tell her around then anyways. I called the taxi, and we went to the hospital.
When we got there we were shown to a room by a midwife who asked me how close together the contractions were (every 3-4 minutes) and if my waters had broken (no), She then gave me suck a hacky look I nearly thumped her - what was her problem? She made me feel like I was a silly little girl who didn't know what she was talking about. I'd been getting a lot of dark looks from people during my pregnancy. I know I'm not old by any means and I look around my age, so I'm assuming people were thinking that I was a stupid girl who didn't know what contraception was and now she has no man and no life living off the council. Well, just to set the record straight here and now - my baby was planned, I have a full time job with a regular income, I have a boyfriend whom I adore and who adores me. I have an eternity ring he gave me before I got pregnant which I wear on the thrid finger of my left hand. It's a promise he made that we would be together forever and that he loves me. He wants to propose when he has enough money to buy me a beautiful engagement ring. So there!
Anyway - another midwife came in, and did the basic checks like blood pressure and baby's heartbeat. The contractions were hurting a lot by then so I got given gas and air. Didn't do anything but made me feel light headed at the end of a contraction.
Then the day shift came in so I got a new midwife who had a student with her. She felt my tummy and examined me - I was 5 cms gone. And so it began...
I just remember that the pain got stronger, although I don't remember the actual pain. I was strapped to the monitors the whole time, so I couldn't move around. They kept feeling my tummy which brought on the contractions and I kept trying to move away. I'm usually quite shy in front of strangers/medical professionals but at that point I really didn't care. I remember screaming. I remember begging them for some more pain relief - pethedine, epidural, I wanted it all. I remember them putting antibiotics through a drip in my hand, but I had to keep my hand still, and I had about 3 contractions while they were doing it. I remember telling Terry over and over again that I couldn't do it, I couldn't. He jut stroked my head and held my hand and told me I could and I was. He was amazing.
The room filled with people - I don't remember when or why. I told the midwife I wanted to push. My legs were in stirrups. There was a foreign doctor and a woman there, another man too. The doctor at some point left the room and came back and said "still pregnant then?". I nearly killed him. I was pushing but I was scared to at the same time. Eventually, they used a ventouse and my baby son was born.
It was the hardest, most painful, scariest, amazing, rewarding thing I have ever done.