"Giving birth should be your greatest achievement, not your greatest fear." - Jane Weideman
The build up
Travelling down the a12 it all became very real. This was it. The moment was here. We were going through those front doors and not coming out until we had our baby in our arms. I felt a sense of anxiety but also impatience and excitement. Once we had settled into the Antenatal ward and all the necessary checks were made, induction began. other way, I had scrutinised every part of my birth plan, so why shouldn’t I get the labour I wanted?
Travelling down the a12 it all became very real. This was it. The moment was here. We were going through those front doors and not coming out until we had our baby in our arms. I felt a sense of anxiety but also impatience and excitement. Once we had settled into the Anntenatal ward and all the necessary checks were made, induction began.
The long wait
The first 24 hours mostly consisted of waiting for the medication to take affect, making trips to costa, browsing magazines and numerous ECG traces to make sure the baby was coping ok. I was determined to get out of hospital as soon as possible, so whilst other mothers were saving energy for the big moment, I was doing laps of the hospital. Walking through contractions, scaling the stairs and refusing to be still. I was determined to go into labour that night. Waiting was over.
Contractions slowly built up to the point where on my laps I would have to take a moment, ride out the contractions, and then carry on. Once returning to the room after hours of walking, I was told that I had reached 3cm dilated and could now be transferred to labour ward for the main event.
Finally! It was time for me to meet my baby!
When things don’t go as planned
The walk onto labour ward felt surreal. I could instantly hear women howling down the corridors, I tried not to pay attention, that wouldn’t be me, I would be fine. The room was far from what I had pictured in my head. True, I had known for a while I would be in labour ward, and had diligently given up my dream of a water birth due to the monitoring they needed to do. But I hadn’t expected to be placed in, what to me, seemed like a cupboard not much larger than my horses stable, with a whole host of machinery. This was far from what I had imagined for my ‘perfect labour’. My first midwife shuffled in, sneezing away and making comments that made this seem like just another daily moment to her. Jokes were thrown about the room, claiming her hands were too small to break my waters and that one of her colleagues would have to come perform the procedure instead. This wasn’t what I wanted. It didn’t feel special to them and at that moment I just wished they would all leave me in peace to do this alone.
I was hooked up to machines, wires tethering me to the screen, leaving me pacing the one meters I had, back and forth like a lion in a cage. The contractions were rapidly growing more intense, but they were still manageable and I was pacing through them. The next moment it was as if my entire birth plan went out of the window. From day one I had said I didn’t want a drip for induction, and the midwife in antenatal implied that my progress was good and I shouldn’t need one. That didn’t stop these new midwives completely over looking this fact. Hooking me up to the drip and in my mind it was this point that ruined everything.
I was coping well. The gas and air didn’t really work as expected but leaning over the back of the bed I was riding each wave of contractions as they came. The second they put that drip in my hand all hell broke loose.
If you have never had contractions, let me explain how they feel. Imagine an elephant stood on your head, or a truck slowly ran over your abdomen. It’s like everything from your neck down cramps. I wouldn’t say it was necessarily painful. At least not in the way I see pain. It’s just exhausting and uncomfortable. Well, my manageable contractions went from a ten to a hundred in seconds. The gas and air wasn’t doing a thing no matter how many breaths I took a second. The contractions were relentless, back to back with no break. Looking back I must have been at least 5 or 6cm dilated and in the stage of transitioning. But nobody was listening to me because the machine wasn’t picking up my contractions and I wasn’t due to be checked for another hour.
Luckily my original midwife had gone for her break and a more experienced, gentle natured Irish lady took over. She commented that she could see what was happening, that she didn’t believe the machine and she would go get the consultant to check me. Before she had a chance, I started to struggle. I remember her saying that I wasn’t coping with the intensity and whilst I had been adamant I wasn’t going to take pethidine, it was that or an epidural because my body wasn’t coping well and the baby was starting to struggle. I moaned, but was hit with another force of contractions and after that I don’t remember much.
My partner filled in many of the blanks for me, and I remember snippets of what happened, like a jigsaw puzzle missing most of the pieces. They checked my progress and found out I was far more advanced that they anticipated, I was ready for delivery. However there was a problem. The babies heart rate was dropping rapidly and mine was flying through the ceiling. Emergency buttons were pressed. People rushed in and all I remember is being asked to lay on my side. I felt an overwhelming pressure pushing down on me. I vaguely remember a voice telling me not to push yet but I wasn’t in control here. Why didn’t they understand that? I was simply a spectator along for the ride. It was at this point they decided, for both of our safety, an assisted delivery was required.
I felt nothing more than a pin prick as they administered local anaesthetic and performed an episiotomy so they could use a ventouse to get the baby out as quickly as possible. I had no choice but to surrender to the pressure I felt. Disregarding all voices, I trusted my body and let the surges wash over me. My partner tells me that the baby shot out onto my stomach, they cut the cord and whisked it away to the examination table. Once the commotion was over and I came to a bit more, my partner looked over at me from the table, with a look I had never seen on him before. A mix of pure joy and relief. The rest of the noise faded from the room as he came over and passed me our baby girl. Aria had finally arrived. Weighing 5lb 3oz she was tiny. Holding her I felt so much relief. We had made it, both of us safely through what felt like the most traumatic event in my life. But she was perfect and all of the stress and panic was so worth it.
I can’t imagine what it was like for him witnessing such an event. He tells me there were moments when he thought he was going to loose both of us, and despite all the pain I went through, I truly feel like he was the one that suffered the most. In today’s society so much emphasis is placed on the women, rightly so, but not enough thought is given to the male birth partners that have to watch their loved ones go through a life changing event completely powerless. But this is something I will cover in a future article. In that moment everything was perfect. It was just our little family. The medical staff eventually filed out and left us to settle, awaiting transfer to the postnatal ward where the rest of our journey would begin. For that is truly where my life changing journey started. Little did I know, in that moment my entire being changed, shifted focus and my once certain path faded in front of me. The fourth trimester should never be underestimated, I truly feel not enough women talk about it or get prepared for it. Next Saturday I will be discussing all about the 4th trimester.