Monthly Birth story for March

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This month’s birth story comes from Kelly, who writes a parenting blog called Mrs mum NZ – as the title suggests, she is a British ex-pat living in New Zealand.  She’d love it if you paid her blog a visit, you can also follow her on Facebook and Twitter.  Her story is a vaginal birth without epidural of her first baby.  It’s a lovely story, heartfelt and you really feel present with her as she overcomes her fears and births her baby.  Thank you, Kelly for sharing it with us.  If you would like to submit a birth story, feel free to contact me.

Our son, was very comfortable in my tummy.  His due date, 16^th September, came and went.  There were no signs of him making any appearance any time soon.  This went on for six days.  Day after day I woke up to dozens of messages… “Are you in labour yet?”  “Anything?”  “Is he here?” And every day I just waited.  They were the longest six days of my life.

Then finally, on 21^st September at 10pm, I felt something.  A twinge.  Could this be it?  My husband and I didn’t want to get too excited just in case it wasn’t.  Then another twinge.   Then another and another.  The excitement was building with every twinge… or dare I say contraction!  We wanted to keep things going, so took the advice from our antenatal class and went for a little walk around the block.  The slowest walk ever! With each contraction I needed to stop until it had passed.  They were getting sore.  By the end of the walk each contraction had me bent over clinging onto my husband or a nearby lamp post in order to get through it.  This was it.  I was in labour!

After the walk, I took a shower.  I spent the entire time sat on the floor of shower cubicle with the water spraying onto my lower back.  It felt nice.

This was also about the same time that my body started to clear out my bowels.  I lost count of how many times I had to visit the bathroom.  But I suppose, it’s better out than in!

Two hours in and my contractions were coming regularly and more often.  We timed them to see where I was at.  They were 5-6 minutes a part.  It was getting serious!

Our antenatal classes had told us that a first labour could last more than 12 hours so I thought I would go to bed and try to get some sleep.  I hopped into bed but there was no chance on Earth that sleep was not going to happen.  With every contraction I was on my hands and knees rocking back and forth and breathing in and out.  I found the rocking quite comforting and was able to breath along with the rhythm. Forward, back, breathe in… forward back, breath out…

It was now the early hours of 22^nd September.  Also, the start time of the 2014 Singapore Formula One Grand Prix race.  My husband is a big fan!  So as he watched the race, rubbed my back and timed my contractions, I continued to breath and rock, breath and rock.

After the race, which in my mind passed quicker than any other race I’ve had to sit through, we timed my contractions again.  They were now two minutes a part and lasting over a minute long.  It was time to call the midwife and make our way to the hospital.

Following advice, I travelled in the back of the car and knelt facing out of the back window and hanging onto the head rest.  This was a big mistake!  I felt every bump, turn and speed change.  Even between contractions.   I was so uncomfortable but too sore and distracted to reposition myself.  It was officially the worst car journey of my life!

We arrived at the hospital at about 3am.  We initially went to the wrong door.  Who knew that the hospital had two maternity wards?!  So I then had a slow walk down a long corridor to get to our delivery room. I remember needing to stop every few steps to bend over and breath through contraction after contraction.  Finally in our delivery room, I was assessed and the baby was monitored.  Sitting up on that bed with the heart beat monitor on my tummy was hard work.  I was uncomfortable and things were really starting to hurt.  That 20 minutes felt like an eternity!

After being given the thumbs up from the midwife, I was able to get off the bed.  I visited the toilet again, and again, my bowels still weren’t quite empty.  The midwife kept knocking on the toilet door to see if I was ok.  I was cowering with a mix of pain and embarrassment wishing she’d just let me poo in peace!

Once I’d emerged from the toilet I asked for the pool to be filled.  I tried to get comfortable in the delivery room whilst I was waiting but I just couldn’t.  The pain was so intense now that I was struggling to breathe at all through the contractions.  I found myself holding my breath and even had a few tears.  How was I going to get through this?

It was time for gas and air!

The gas and air made a big difference.  Not to the pain really, but to my breathing and my focus. Breathing harder to suck in the gas and air forced me to breathe slowly.  It got me back to feeling like I was in control.

Finally the birth pool was ready!  I got in and tried to get comfortable.  I couldn’t.  I was knelt at the side arms out hanging onto my husband with one arm and the gas and air with the other.  A few contractions later and I felt a big ‘pop’.  My waters had broken.  It’s such a strange sensation and one so difficult to put into words.

Almost immediately after my waters had gone my body just started to push.  All on its own. Amazing!  At this point I was already exhausted.  No sleep in over 20 hours plus having been in labour for 6 hours.  The contractions were intense and even with the gas and air I found myself holding my breath and crying again.  With each pain I was trying to push my baby out but I didn’t feel like I was making any progress.

After pushing for well over an hour, the head was beginning to show itself.  The midwife told me to reach down and feel, which I did and almost pulled my hand away immediately.  It was so soft.  Not at all what I expected.

I was utterly exhausted at this point and was starting to doubt myself.  I couldn’t do it anymore.  It was too painful and I was too tired.  I remember thinking that they could do anything to me. Epidural, c-section, forceps, anything!  As long as they got the baby out without me having to go through this anymore!  Just as I said “I can’t” I realised how close to the end I was.  This was what most women said, right before the baby was due to be born.   As the room filled with “you’re so close,”  “you can do this” I felt a surge of motivation to push harder.  I kept pushing with every ounce of energy that I had left.

Just then, my baby’s heartbeat dropped.  He was in distress!  I was told to “get out of the pool now.” But I could barely move with a baby’s head half way out of my you know what.  Between my husband and two midwifes I was pulled out of the pool and carried, or more accurately dragged, over to the bed.  With me crying “Ow ow ow!” the entire way.

On my back with my leg cocked in the air I pushed so hard!  And with one final push, he was out!  I had done it!  At 5:50am on 22^nd September, I had given birth to a baby.  My baby.  The biggest wave of relief washed over my entire body.  I was totally and utterly exhausted.   But it was over. No more contractions, no more pain.  I had done it!  Phew!

My son was put onto my chest and I looked down at him.  He looked nothing like I imagined.

My husband, next to me, was a crying wreck.  He told me how much he loved me, how proud he was of me and how beautiful our son was.  I couldn’t join in with his emotions because I was still so overcome with the emotion of relief.  The whole ordeal had been so painful and such hard work.

I wish we could have been left as we were so that I could gather myself back together and immerse myself in what had just happened.  That I had had a baby.  But instead the next hour or so was a whirlwind.   I needed to deliver the placenta, be examined, try to give my son his first feed and when that didn’t work have my boobs squeezed by the midwife to extract some colostrum into a syringe.  I needed to dress my baby so that he was warm and take a shower myself.

We were then moved onto the ward and given some tea and toast.  We were then left in peace.  Left with this new little bundle.  Our baby!  Robert James.  9lb 8oz.

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