Recycling in West Berkshire with Jana Karst

J. Karst Journey in West Berkshire

     ‘Welcome to the new edition of this Guest Blog . I am a full-time working mum of 2 boys and a published novelist of ‘The Ninth Cross’ by my pen name J. Karst. I get involved in trying that little bit I can in saving the environment for the future generations.’

             What a wonderful weekend I had! I mentioned before that I was a birthing partner for my friend who was going to be induced. That’s why there wasn’t a blog last week because I was busy trying to hold my cool.

            From 4am I was rolling in my bed waiting for the hospital call. By 8am we were asked to attend as they had a slot available. Whilst I was wondering how the hell am I going to manage mentally, my friend was worrying on what the pain will be like.  

            I oozed confidence whereas inside I was a scared tiny bunny looking into the massive predatory jaws of a fox. Once I dropped her off at the maternity entrance, I gone for a hunt for a parking slot. I got lucky on my third round.

            Meanwhile my friend was admitted, and we were ready for the ride. In the end induction wasn’t necessary as after investigation they told us to move to the delivery suite as she was already 1 cm! By midnight my friend announced after another exhausting contraction that if I won’t get her more pain relief, she was going to kill someone.

            The midwife got in an anaesthesiologist and my friend questioned whether she could take it home with her. After some rest we were woken up at 4am as she was ready to push. My nerves were going at full pelt and trying to be a good birthing partner I pushed with her. I might have taken this task very seriously and after some trouser cough I realised that I don’t need to push with her.

            ‘I can see the head!’, I shouted which was followed by a small hand smack from the midwife. I don’t blame her because as soon as I said that my friend stopped pushing and asked what it looks like. I couldn’t answer because the little beggar slid back in like a rat up a drainpipe.

            The midwife didn’t need to communicate with me verbally as her eyes said it all. I stepped away to get the camera as after the next push the baby was out taking its first breath.

            The Midwife was so calm and professional throughout and we are thankful. Hat off to those staff that do this emotional job every single day! Well done to our wonderful NHS who in the end tighten their belts and just get on with it even if they have a daft sod there disrupting the birthing flow…

           J. Karst

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