William’s birth story
I honestly thought that baby number 2 would arrive early. Aren’t they supposed to? I’d finished work 6 weeks before my due date just in case I had to give birth in the office assisted by someone I wouldn’t show my face to let alone my lady bits. But as the due date approached there were no signs of anything imminent. In fact, the baby felt like it was well and truly bedded and I was contemplating how it would feel to be pregnant forever.
I never thought I’d need my 40-week midwife appointment. I’d practically guffawed when the midwife had told me to book one. But there I was at the surgery, hauling myself up onto the bed – not a hint of grace or dignity left. The midwife informed me that the baby’s back was now to my right side and his head was only two to three fifths engaged. Two weeks previously the baby had been so perfectly placed! I left the midwife clutching a long list of ways I should and shouldn’t be sitting and moving. I also left with the delightful prospect of a ‘sweep’ at my next appointment and, perhaps after that, an induction. A birth with minimum intervention felt like it was slipping away.
Two days after my due date, it finally felt like things might be on the move. When you’re on child number two you expect to know what you’re doing, but it felt like the first time all over again. Having been pretty comfortable all day, albeit with a bit of back ache, I picked my daughter up from nursery as usual. But as the evening progressed I got less comfortable and couldn’t sit still for long. I don’t remember thinking that it might be the start of it all, just that it was a bit ouchy and time to grind on the birthing ball.
By about 11pm I was getting regular pains and, although I still wasn’t convinced I was in labour, we thought it was time to go and collect my mum and bring her back to the house so that she could look after my 2-year-old daughter should things start to happen in the night. When my mum arrived the birthing ball was getting an awful lot of rotary action.
By the time I went to bed I was downloading a contraction timer app on my phone (and then cursing it when midway through the night I discovered the free version only took a limited number of readings then deleted the whole flipping lot of them!). Whilst I writhed in pain every 7 minutes or so my husband was busily tapping away on his Blackberry sending work emails. And, yes, that really, REALLY irritated me!
At about 5.30am I rang the hospital. I suspected that they’d tell me to wait a bit longer before I came in. I must admit I lied a little bit about how regular my contractions were so that they wouldn’t tell me to stay at home. It worked and at 6am I crept into my mum’s room to tell her that we were off to produce her next grandchild. I then went and kissed my toddler, knowing that the next time I saw her I’d be introducing her to her little brother.
The next bit is where you can all go off and make a drink. Between our 6.30am arrival at the Birth Unit and around 12pm very little happened. When I arrived I was about 4cm dilated but, despite the ongoing contractions, I didn’t dilate any further. The contractions were bad enough to be straight on to the gas and air but they didn’t become any more regular or intense.
At some point during the morning the midwife gave me a sweep to speed things up. She concluded that my waters had already broken. I thought this was plausible as I’d had some dampness (in hindsight probably a wee). It was nothing near the torrent I’d released with my first child but, to be honest, I was so desperate for things to move on that I didn’t admit I suspected that my waters hadn’t broken. Likewise, when the midwife asked whether it felt like I needed to push, I didn’t say “no”, I said “errr, a bit”. Terrible web of lies!
Around midday, the midwives decided that I needed to be transferred to the doctor-led delivery suite and put on a syntocin drip. The thought terrified me. Looking back, I wonder whether my slow progress was linked to the fact that I was so darned scared. The adrenalin had kicked in and undone all the good work of the birth-inducing hormones. Having had a short and straightforward labour with my first child, I was so convinced that this birth would be quicker. I’d hoped a sneeze would do the trick! But when I realised this wasn’t happening the fear took over. Things weren’t going as I’d planned.
Off the midwives went to fetch a trolley so that I could be transferred. My husband and I got my belongings together and we were ready to go. As I sat up on the bed to shuffle onto the trolley there was a “POP” and a gush – there was no doubting that my waters had at last broken!
From that moment on things progressed quickly and I finally started to need to push. But I was still frightened. I remember focusing on the picture on the wall that depicted a table and chair looking out onto a beach and tried to imagine I was there. This didn’t stop me screaming at one point “I CAN’T DO IT!”, which was met by a chorus of “YOU CAN!” from my husband and the midwives. (Apologies to anyone who may have been in the Birth Centre at that point trying to have a quiet and relaxed birth.) I didn’t believe them that the baby was actually coming as the pushing seemed to be going on forever and with nothing to show for it.
But come he did and at 1.30pm (and after three-quarters of a tank of gas and air) my handsome baby boy arrived. The first words he heard may well have been me apologising profusely (again) to the midwives for having done a poo. William was weighed and as the midwife’s finger climbed higher and higher up the weight conversion chart, we realised that I’d squeezed out a 10lb 11oz whopper. Amazingly, I’d avoided any tearing and for this I thank the midwives for their instructions on when to push/not push and my ability to obey them! The midwives were amazing. For one midwife, William was the biggest baby she’d ever delivered and for the other it was the first baby she’d delivered since qualifying. He was special to everyone.
So what did I gain from my birth experience as well a healthy and chubby son? A profound lesson that whilst planning your birth options is necessary, don’t expect things to go exactly to plan. And if they don’t, don’t panic. Wonderful advice in hindsight!
