Birth Story

I gave birth to our little angel at 3:34am on Wednesday 13th November 2013. I was 41 weeks + 3 days. My midwife had attempted two stretch and sweeps; one on Friday 8th and another on Tuesday 12th, but on both occasions my cervix had been too posterior to carry it out. The midwife felt that it was therefore unlikely that I would go into labour on my own before 42 weeks and I was booked in for induction on Friday 15th November. I was feeling really uncomfortable with the idea of induction. I desperately wanted the baby to come when she was ready but I felt that I should go ahead with the induction rather than take any risks. Not that I needed to worry! First thing on Tuesday 12th I had some mild period like pains and thought I had a bit of a show. However as it was just a little blood rather than mucus the midwife felt that it probably wasn't actually a show and asked me to call the labour ward if the bleeding increased at all. After the stretch and sweep attempt that morning I went for a reasonably long walk along the river in the autumn sunshine to try and encourage the baby downwards. When I got home I felt pretty exhausted and spent the rest of the afternoon on the couch napping and generally not feeling quite right. The period pains had continued and I generally felt a bit 'off'. Around 4pm, my husband phoned to say that he was on his way home and I expected him to be back by around 5:15. Then at 5pm, I started getting what felt like gas pains. Except that they seemed to be happening quite regularly! I timed them for a while and they were happening every 2-4 minutes. I thought 'I can't phone the birth centre with gas pains!' and so just sat it out for a bit longer. By 5:30, I phoned my husband and asked him where he was and that I thought maybe things were starting to happen. He calmly said he'd be home within 15 minutes and I then phoned the birth centre. They suggested that I get in the bath and that if it was false labour the pains would probably stop but that if I was still getting them at the same regularity in an hours time that I should call and tell them that we were coming in. With that, D arrived home and ran me a bath. I was in the bath for about an hour and the pains continued. D thought that although the pains weren't getting closer together they appeared to be getting a bit stronger but I wasn't entirely sure and asked him to make the call as to whether it was time to go. He felt it was better to be safe than sorry so he phoned the hospital and off we went. In retrospect, I don't know why I was so doubtful about it being actual labour. Looking back it was pretty obvious. I have a vague memory of an uncomfortable drive to the hospital, having contractions at the security desk and collapsing down into a forward leaning position over a chair in the birthing room. I was examined within an hour of arrival and I was about 4cm dilated. I was then allowed in the birthing pool and think I spent the majority of the labour in there. My memories of my labour include: My midwife really enjoying my playlist and singing along to it, but not really noticing the music much myself (I remember the noise of sucking on the gas and air much more clearly); Feeling urges to bear down with most of my contractions from fairly early on; Being extremely unhappy when I was asked to change position or get out of the pool to be examined; Swearing at D when he kept telling me to relax fully between contractions - "What do you think I'm doing, the f**king Macarena?"; Being regularly encouraged to nibble on flapjack and sip water between contractions by my excellent birth partner husband. He really was amazing and provided all the support I needed from start to finish; Asking what my pain relief options were at about the half way point, being told I could have diamorphine and then forgetting all about it my request with the next contraction; Being repeatedly told by the midwife that I was pushing in the wrong place and strongly disagreeing with her; Pushing for a very long time (2.5 hours) and being told that the baby was stuck on a ridge on my perineum. The midwife suggested lots of different pushing positions to try and get the baby out. I was in various positions on the bed and also on the birthing stool; The gas and air being taken off me towards the end to help me focus on pushing in the right place; Hearing the animalistic, guttural noises coming out of my mouth with each contraction and it feeling like I was listening to someone else; Finally giving birth lying on my side on the bed with D holding my leg up, and with the help of an episiotomy; Hearing D's yelps of excitement telling me that the baby's head was out but being too scared to look myself; Feeling the warm rush of fluid as the baby came out and hearing her cry; Being passed our beautiful baby girl and enjoying the first feed with her. Unfortunately the first wonderful moments with the baby were interrupted by problems with the third stage. I had planned for a physiological third stage but was so exhausted that I asked if I should have the injection. The midwife told me that the episiotomy had torn (third degree) and I had quite a lot of bleeding so she would need to give the injection to speed things up. Unfortunately despite the midwives best efforts the placenta and membranes wouldn't budge and I was told that I would need to go into theatre to have them removed and to be stitched. I was feeling really nauseous at this point too, perhaps from the injection, empty stomach, shock? All of our things and our new bundle of love were gathered together and wheeled off to the labour ward where I met with the anaesthetist and was prepared for theatre. D looked after the baby beautifully, getting her dressed and walking her around and talking to her. He was left with her while I was in theatre and he confessed afterwards that he was terrified of something happening to me. One of the theatre assistants popped in to see him at one point to let him know that I was fine which he really appreciated. So after making it through labour with only gas and air, I was then given a spinal block for the surgery. The theatre staff were really great and chatted kindly to me the whole time. It was very surreal watching my legs being lifted in front of me when my brain could very clearly still feel them lying on the bed! My nausea continued through the surgery and I was given a couple of different anti-nausea drugs. I was wheeled back to the labour ward afterwards where the nausea continued and I was violently shaking. I was desperate to start feeling better at this point! Our baby was passed to me for another feed and the skin to skin contact definitely started to make me feel better. The shaking and nausea finally started to subside. I was given a bed bath which was very welcome and left to rest for a little while. At some point, maybe around 7am?, we were moved again to the post natal ward. It took a few hours for my legs to come back to life and then the discomfort of the surgery started to set in. I was given morphine for the pain which really helped keep me comfortable but the main problem was trying to sit to eat and feed the baby. I was absolutely horrified by the swelling and the complete lack of distinction between my parts 'down there'! I really hadn't been prepared for it at all. I knew that there was something that I hadn't been warned about! Since the birth, I've had many knowing looks from other mothers and comments like "now you understand"! I was in hospital for another night during which I had some lovely bonding moments with beautiful girl while I had her all to myself. We all happily left for home the following afternoon. My recovery at home has been slower than I would have liked. It's taken a good couple of weeks for the swelling to reduce to a level where I can sit on the sofa without any additional cushions. I've also been suffering from some feacal incontinence which was compounded by diarrhoea from a sickness bug that D and I picked up during the first week (thankfully the baby didn't). The incontinence has been really distressing and I'm still very concerned about how long it will last and if it will get better. I'm hoping for a referral to the hospital about it very soon. The physical recovery has been an unwelcome distraction from caring for the baby. I've been feeling pretty sorry for myself at times and hating the limitations in being able to do some basic things for the baby. D has been on paternity leave and I don't know how I would have coped without him being at home with us. N is now 13 days old and D will be going back to work in two days and I know that I'll be finding a new 'routine' with N all over again with it being just me! We're finding our way every day and doing the best that we can. And loving every minute :)