hi there, S here. after reading many blogs via the medium of twitter, i sincerely loved reading other ladies’ birth stories.
even when pregnant, i enjoyed scaring the shiz out of myself but crying with happiness and overwhelming joy for other’s and their gorgeous babies.
so i thought our first proper post should be my account of O’s birth. needless to say, hubby’s is a little different…
it was my due date. we received the keys to our first house, that we owned. i was insanely pleased that baby had decided to stay in his cosy womb up until the end of this day. i watched on as family and friends, the sky man and the white goods delivery men brought things into our new house as i sat on my pregnancy ball eating biscuits and drinking ribena.
fast forward 4 days.
i’m 4 days overdue. i wake up. my stretch marks are burning. why did i get stretch marks?! around 10am, my grandparents come over to nose at our new house. they sit on my sofa and drink tea, whilst i continue to bounce on my ball wishing for the baby to start shifting.
come 11am, my dad turns up (who we rarely see) which turns into an awkward half an hour with his ex-parents-in-law. i’m starting to feel my tummy feeling odd. little pains every now and again, but not very regularly. ‘i really shouldn’t have had that hot curry last night’, i’m thinking…
it turns to 12pm. lunch time. i ring hubby and ask him to come home from work. i explain that i am experiencing slight pains in my bump that are every 15 minutes or so. he returns, and orders all visitors home. then goes upstairs and starts painting the ceiling of our master bedroom…
i try a warm bath and two paracetamol, thinking ‘it’s only braxton hicks. it’ll all stop once i get in here…’
after half an hour and the pains are getting worse and more regular. by this point, i have a feeling they’re not braxton hicks but are more likely to be contractions… I must have stayed in the bath, with a pen and an old envelope for 45 minutes counting the times between contractions and noting that they are now 10 minutes apart and very regular…
i manage to get to 6:00pm before calling my mum and telling her i think it’s happening and that she needs to get round to our house quick! hubby has now finished painting the ceiling and is making himself a pot noodle for his tea… i couldn’t think of anything worse than eating. i had attempted a small lunch at midday, but not been able to stomach it.
by 7pm, we had arrived at the hospital. i remember shouting at hubby to drive slowly and miss all the potholes on the way! we live 5 minutes from the hospital, but the roads are horrendous! i also remember sitting on the very edge of the passenger seat as i couldn’t get comfortable…
when we arrived, we were shoved into a small room that was as hot as the sun. hubby went back out to the car after helping me and mum in to retrieve all the various hospital bags that we had packed in the run up to this day.
when he returned, he said that the ward seemed pretty quiet, so i asked him to go ask if i could be moved into the room with the birthing pool. i had always thought how wonderful it would be to birth my baby in a pool, so natural and with so few drugs… so hubby returned, and lo and behold there was only one other room being used – soon to be vacated by a recently birthed baby – but the pool room was free and clean.
we moved into the huuuuge room with the big ass bath and various soft furnishings. we played my birthing play list (of around 1500 songs) from now, whilst waiting to get into established labour so i could enter the pool. i started to use the gas and air around 8:30pm as the contractions were starting to become quite painful…
around 10pm, the midwife came to check my dilation and i was thrilled when she said i was considered to be in active labour. i quickly whipped off my nightie and knickers and hopped into the bath, kindly ran for me by my mum. hubby was assigned the gas & air – i.e. to ensure i had it close by when a contraction was about to hit, and mum was given the thermometer and asked to keep the bath temperature at the standard, tepid temperature.
a few hours later, i was checked again. by this point i was in sooooo much pain and the entenox plus lack of sleep was killing me. i was losing the will. and to be told that i had only dilated a further 1cm in 4 hours, i was furious.
i hopped out of the pool as quickly as i could, strode over to the bed which i proceeded to lay on and demand the hard drugs. i was given some diamorphine which helped me to sleep between the most painful contractions through a few hours of the night. hubby and mum managed to catch some zzz’s on the chairs and birthing sofa, although both of them looked as knackered as i felt!
fast forward to the next part i remember… i had been given some pethadine at some point during the morning, but come 10:30am i was fully dilated and ready to push… so they broke my waters and i started pushing… i had the most amazing midwife, who helped and encouraged me. told me when to push, how to push, that i was doing great.
although, i wasn’t doing great. 12pm came but no baby had arrived yet. not even a head. i was so insanely tired after having a very unsettled and drug induced sleep. i just wanted it to be over.
the midwife left the room and came back with a doctor. he was a gentleman from an african country, and in my drug-addled state i could not, for the life of me, understand what the heck he was saying.
i turned to hubby, as the doctor sat at the foot of my bed, and said ‘he wants me to have a caesarean doesn’t he!?’. hubby let me know that they planned to give me an episiotomy and help me to deliver my baby. with forceps.
after all the things i had read, this was almost as bad as my nightmare of a c-section. i was given more drugs to to ensure i didn’t feel anything and i pushed my baby out with the help of a fabulous doctor and midwife with my hubby for support. my mum cried in the corner whilst all this was going on, so she was a total waste of time! but i was so glad my baby was here safe and well.
and there my baby was born. skin to skin and an attempt at establishing breastfeeding within the first few minutes, whilst my doctor stitched me up. my baby boy. all 9lb 12 oz of him.
and that’s why i had stretch marks.