My first time pregnancy story
I am pregnant for the first time and I live on a small remote island. This is my story.
blog chapters
Pregnancy blog: front page
Chapter 1: I'm pregnant! The initial emotions
Chapter 2: Sharing our good news
Chapter 3: The unwelcomed symptoms of pregnancy
Chapter 4: Initial midwifery appointment
Chapter 5: Hello baby!
Chapter 6: A healthy growing baby
Chapter 7: The happy second trimester
Chapter 8: Gifts & preparations
Chapter 9: Our plans for home birth
Chapter 10: The start of the third trimester
Chapter 11: Birthing options - a decision finally made
Chapter 12: An unplanned trip to the hospital
Chapter 13: Newest third trimester sensations
Chapter 14: Last minute preparations & more gifts
Chapter 15: A scare! Has the baby moved today?
Chapter 16: We are ready for the home birth
Chapter 17: The woes of late stage pregnancy
Chapter 18: The excruciating waiting stage!
Chapter 19: Scanning & sweeping
Chapter 20: Trapped in town (an indefinite hospital stay)
> Chapter 21: Baby's birthday! My delivery & birth story
Chapter 22: A quick recovery
Chapter 23: Final thoughts. . .
Chapter 1: I'm pregnant! The initial emotions
Chapter 2: Sharing our good news
Chapter 3: The unwelcomed symptoms of pregnancy
Chapter 4: Initial midwifery appointment
Chapter 5: Hello baby!
Chapter 6: A healthy growing baby
Chapter 7: The happy second trimester
Chapter 8: Gifts & preparations
Chapter 9: Our plans for home birth
Chapter 10: The start of the third trimester
Chapter 11: Birthing options - a decision finally made
Chapter 12: An unplanned trip to the hospital
Chapter 13: Newest third trimester sensations
Chapter 14: Last minute preparations & more gifts
Chapter 15: A scare! Has the baby moved today?
Chapter 16: We are ready for the home birth
Chapter 17: The woes of late stage pregnancy
Chapter 18: The excruciating waiting stage!
Chapter 19: Scanning & sweeping
Chapter 20: Trapped in town (an indefinite hospital stay)
> Chapter 21: Baby's birthday! My delivery & birth story
Chapter 22: A quick recovery
Chapter 23: Final thoughts. . .
Chapter 21: Baby's birthday! My delivery & birth story
1st October 2018 has been the most emotional, wonderful, special and exciting day of my life. This is why this is a very long and detailed chapter as I tried to recall as many little details as I could, creating a memoir for myself. This is a story of my first labour and delivery, a true finish line to my first pregnancy. One day my child may read this article with interest, or I may want to remember this amazing day and I can never tell what minor detail may evoke the best memories, so I tried to recapture as much as possible in this blog article. James lived through this day in his own way, but he helped me fill in some gaps for a more complete picture. It is very long - you’ve been warned. Let’s begin. . .
It was the small hours on Monday the 1st of October 2018 when I felt a hot crampy sensation in my lower belly. I instantly dismissed it as stiffness caused by a tough hospital bed so I stretched, changed positions and dozed back to sleep. It happened again, this time waking me up a little more. A thought crossed my mind, a voice of my midwife saying that “labour contractions can begin as period cramps and the confirmation that these are the real thing lies in the repetitiveness of the sensation”. So I laid there, awake, waiting for it to happen again and, sure thing - there it was! These were indeed coming and going, so I turned over and gave sleeping James a nudge, saying “I don’t want to excite you, but. . . “
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James shot up from the bed exclaiming “too late, I’m excited!”. I explained what I thought was happening and we decided to time the sensations; I was half asleep so wasn’t sure how much time had been passing in between each one, but now James had his watch on (it was 3 o’clock in the morning) and this had become a scientific experiment. From all the books and blogs I read I was expecting there to be at least half an hour in between the contractions, but the baby must have received the memo about how impatient we had become as these were only 4-5 minutes apart!
At 4.00am James finally asked if he should call the midwife and I agreed. I explained that I was feeling crampy feeling on both sides of my lower belly that was coming and going. She asked if the pain had a distinct pattern to it and I said it felt like a wave, starting slowly, accelerating, peaking and then gradually retreating away, leaving no trace behind. And then it was back again, and again, and again, leaving me very little time to recover. The midwife confirmed these sounded like the real deal and I was so excited and happy, I could hug her - the wait was finally over, the baby was coming and I was over the moon! Both James and I have been waiting for this moment for weeks and it was finally here!
The midwife left us be saying she will be popping in later on for some observations (I think they kept measuring my blood pressure and pulse) but recommended we stay active as it helps progress labour so, with me still dressed in my long white/blue hospital nightgown that my Nan sent me a couple of months ago, we went for a gentle walk around the hospital. The contractions at this point were more uncomfortable than painful but they were strong enough to stop me in my stride. It felt as though I was grabbing onto James and stopping for a little breather every few steps, but we must have wondered around for at least half an hour.
When we came back to our ward, a midwife suggested that I could try having a bath as many women find that helpful in early (or even late!) stages of labour. I agreed to give it a go (the room still had the “wet floor” sign I placed by the door a couple hours earlier(part 19)) but I soon found that I was very uncomfortable in that funny awkwardly shaped bath. I also didn’t like the heat of the water as it made me feel dizzy and nauseous. James took an opportunity to go have some fresh air outside and calm down, pacing himself for a long day ahead, but as soon as he was back he helped me out of the bath, threw a coat onto me and we went outside together so that I could cool down and have some fresh air.
We paced around the hospital car park circling around a couple of cars that were parked there (I distinctly remember there being a red car that I enjoyed walking around). The early morning was quiet, cool and still a little dusky as the sun hadn’t fully dawned yet. I wasn’t thinking about the time or how long the day might last, I simply focused on the present moment and felt really happy that James was here to experience this magical day with me.
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We came back to the ward and the midwife talked me through a nice visualisation technique of imagining each wave of pain as actual ocean wave, crashing onto the golden sand and foaming up before gently retreating back into the ocean. I hung onto that vision for a long time afterwards and it was a really helpful reminder than the feeling didn’t last all that long and was always going to end. Once I had a more lucid moment we all laughed when the midwife described a hypnobirthing technique she had heard of: it was an image of a flower opening up to the sun and losing its petals. I have to say that I was happy to stick with images of ocean waves and couldn’t help but imagine being in our local beach that we now called “The Caves”.
The midwife then quickly connected me to the TENS machine that we had brought with us. Even on a low setting, the little device provided a good deal of relief - the contractions still came and went, but with every one I could boost the strength of the TENS current and it somehow helped me breathe easier through each peak of crashing wave. I can’t quite describe the way TENS worked for me - it was as though it somehow masked the pain, replacing it with something else, some sort of a vibrating heat on my skin. Contractions were still there but somehow less intense.
I decided to sit on the silver hard-rubber semi-deflated birthing / yoga exercise ball that they brought into the ward for me to bounce on the night before, which was placed by the bed, all the while missing my big blue ball at home, thinking how much more comfortable my ball was as I had a lot of time to adjust it to just how I like it. I was swaying and rocking on that silver ball in the ward unable to get comfortable whichever way I twisted and turned. Nothing felt comfortable and I guess that’s a true sign of labour! In the end, I just put my head on the bed leaning forward and tried to drift away to a happy place, boosting my TENS machine with each contraction and in more lucid moments reminding myself that this is exactly what we have been waiting for for a really long time and that every passing minute brought the baby closer to our arms and hearts. I was in a lot of discomfort but also really excited about the baby coming - I just couldn’t wait! I actually think James caught this moment on camera (in our "Here comes the baby" vlog).
As I was breathing through the contractions I think I was making some weird groaning and moaning noises. Under normal circumstances this would be very embarrassing - the nurses station / reception was right outside our ward door and, it being Monday morning, I am sure the unit was more busy than usual. However, exhaling with a sound was helpful to me and I didn’t really consider anybody else at that time.I was breathing the time away, obviously in a world of my own, a lot of the time blissfully unaware of my surroundings.
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After a brief visit to the ladies’ room the midwife suggested I take two tablets of paracetamol to further help with the pain as the contractions were coming every 3-4 minutes providing me very little time to recover. I agreed. The midwife then told me not to take any more paracetamol for at least four hours, telling us of a lady who was popping them like sugar pills hoping for greater pain relief without realising that it might be damaging her liver. It was an amusing reminder to respect medication limits.
Then I came back to the same semi-comfortable spot on the grey ball by the bed, but this time the midwife suggested I prop my head higher up with a few pillows, to help remain a little more upright (which I think is meant to help the baby descend lower into the pelvis ready for delivery). So I sat there on the ball by the bed, head in the pillows, TENS in hand for what felt like a really long time.
It must have been about 7 or 8 o’clock in the morning when the hospital shift changed and the midwife who started the labour process with me was going home, handing me over to another lovely and very experienced colleague. Once again, apart from the blood pressure and pulse checks she mostly let us be in the ward by ourselves and it was James who was on his feet like a whirlwind, busy looking after me.
We explained to the new midwife that we wanted to retain as much of the original birthing plan as we can, and that James was going to assist me in labour and delivery. We wanted James to catch the baby and cut the umbilical cord and the midwife was very comfortable with both ideas. We understood that a less experienced midwife might feel apprehensive about Dad having so much involvement but our midwife was happy with James’s assistance and help.
James convinced me to have a little bit to eat, to keep my strength up, so with his help I managed to have a small pot of yoghurt, one teaspoon at a time in between the waves of discomfort. I also had half of a nutty cereal bar broken into a million small pieces. I ate those things because James told me to but I really didn’t feel hungry. What I did feel was a constant shift in temperature! I was way too hot one second, dropping all the bed sheets that James put over me on the floor in a flash. Then, the next moment I was freezing cold and wanted all four woolen blankets back over my shoulders and even demanded more blankets too! This must have been an exhausting time for James, feeding me, clothing me, passing me water. Speaking of water, the drinking water fountain in the canteen was so very slow and James didn’t feel like hanging around refilling the jug whilst he could be in the room with me, so he asked for help and one of the lovely orderly ladies kept refilling the jug for him. He even found a straw for my water glass and it was a lot easier to have little sips of water through a straw than from a glass.
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The midwife came in and suggested that if James sat on a chair behind me I may enjoy having my lower back massaged. We briefly tried that but I quickly found that I didn’t want to be touched. It somehow took me away from my own “happy space” inside and brought me back to the ward, which made the experience a lot more present and real. At that time, I did not want this and so James was back to passing me blankets and water, which was a lot more beneficial.
After a little while I visited the ladies’ room again and on the way back had such an intense contraction I couldn’t help but grab onto the radiator by the window. I remember this so distinctly because the midwife asked me if I wanted some more pain relief and I said, with utter conviction, that I did. She confirmed that I had paracetamol not that long ago but quickly brought in some codeine. James says he made a joke about me having a gin & tonic (I love gin & tonic and haven’t had it for best part of the year!) in a form of a pill. It is a pretty funny joke but I can’t say I heard it at the time as another contraction swept me away just as I was aiming for the bouncy grey ball again. I didn’t make it to the ball so just grabbed onto the back of a nearby chair and wanted to breathe through the wave, when the midwife turned up with the massive balloon of Entonox. I felt as though I wanted to hold off taking Entonox but she just shoved the nozzle into my mouth and I was annoyed at first but then ever so grateful a second later as the Entonox helped immensely!
I have to admit that from this point on, everything in my memory is a lot more blurry. During contractions I was in a world of my own before, but I feel that gas & air accelerated my ascend and took me to new heights, leaving me completely relaxed during contractions (which was extremely helpful!) but also sleepy and dazed in between contractions too. I was completely swept away, riding each wave out, waiting the hours away. I had moments of clarity but mostly I was in a hazy daze, focused only on me and two foot in front of me (although James made a good point, albeit jokingly, that this could also be because I didn’t put my glasses on!).
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I sat back on the big grey ball inhaling the gas and air as and when needed, coupling it with TENS machine for added distraction. The sound Entonox made when I sucked it in was amusing for me too - a sort of high pitched whistle. It stopped me from making those horrible groaning sounds though, so I presume was a lot more pleasant for others as well. As for me, Entonox and TENS was a perfect combination for this day - I was relaxed and distracted. There was no pain, only discomfort. . . I sat there on the ball with TENS control in one hand, nozzle of gas & air in the other, head on the pillows for hours. I kept asking James what time it was and, although the numbers he’d say made little sense to me and I couldn’t work out how long it’s been since the last time I had asked, I knew that each hour was bringing the baby (and therefore the end of labour) closer. I was also able to sense the time of day. . . It was now early morning; mid-morning; late morning. . . Nearly mid-day!
With each hour I felt a growing discomfort. I had no pain at this stage, but I could not ignore the fact that nothing I did put me at ease. This is when James ran outside and pinched one of the red rubber mattresses and placed it in the corner between a bed curtain and the chair. It was a safe corner. A slightly dim secluded space that looked very comforting to me. I knelt on all fours and, at times, completely collapsed into the mattress, with the curtain all around me I feeling completely safe.
Then James convinced me to have something else to eat. We had a pack of dried apricots and, ever so slowly I had two or three of these and another half of a cereal bar. I then realised that I fancied some more yoghurt as it was sweet yet refreshing and very easy to eat. But we didn’t have anymore left! This is when James saved the day, without me realising it at the time. He ran to the kitchen area to check if there was any yoghurt there that he could have. They usually had a couple of small pots in the fridge, but not this time, so he found a domestic assistant who then phoned the kitchen and organised a small pot of yoghurt to be delivered to James. What a hero!
The midwife came in saying that she could bring a mattress to place on the floor and then saw that James had already taken care of that. She did, however, recommend using the grey ball to support my head and torso, to remain more upright. This was less secluded and felt a lot less comfortable, but then again - nothing was comfortable, so I agreed to do what was best for me and the baby.
I don’t remember this myself, but it must have been just past 12 o’clock noon when a domestic assistant (it was the same young friendly girl who had lent us an ear when we needed one) knocked on the door asking if we would like a sandwich as it was lunch time and they were serving food. James happily accepted two ham salad sandwiches and had one, which I was very pleased about. He also left me one to have after it was all done as I wasn’t feeling at all hungry at this time.
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Suddenly, my TENS machine broke! At first I thought I had accidentally turned it off, as I had done a couple of times before (it is easy to confuse the same looking on/off and boost buttons in the fits of pain), but this time no button I pressed would revive it. The contraction that came after my TENS broke was horrific! There was nothing to mask and camouflage the pain and the last time I felt the raw contraction was hours ago so they had rather intensified by this point and I wasn’t prepared it one bit - an invisible knife was jabbed into my gut and twisted, then quickly moved around ripping and tearing my body apart. Everything hurt really badly. All I could do was suck the gas & air frantically and cry, reminding myself that, regardless how bad this felt, it was going to pass - an ocean wave - it was going to pass. . . it always passed!
In the meantime, James took the little device off me and ran to the reception to get new batteries - but even replacing the batteries didn’t revive it. James then ran back to the reception and borrowed a TENS machine from the maternity unit, leaving our broken one somewhere obscure as I haven’t seen it since. He quickly connected me back to the electrodes and I was back inside my sanctuary with my good friends Entonox and TENS! I wonder how much of this was purely a psychological comfort.
The midwife came in sometime after that and asked if I could get onto bed for ECG monitoring. James had laid out the straps to help her out (and she pointed out how he was quickly becoming a midwife in the making) and I slowly hobbled onto the bed, stopping to let the frequent contractions pass. Moving was really hard and I didn’t really want to lay down, but it was a clear instruction and was for the benefit of the baby so I couldn’t refuse. I told her that I was in a lot of pain and all I heard her say is “I know”. I realised that there was nothing further I or they could do other than wait this stage out, however long it was going to be. I hobbled onto the bed and the midwife told me to lay down on my left side, but I curled into a ball on my right side, leaving just enough room for the ECG monitoring pads to measure what they needed to measure. James then told me that I was facing the wrong way and needed to turn around (I often get my lefts and rights mixed up) so I laughed it off saying that it was ok for me to get my sides mixed up as I didn’t drive (so wasn’t posing a risk to anybody!). It was a lame attempt at a joke, but one I remember making!
I turned around to the left side and stayed curled on bed for a little while, unable and too afraid to move in case it brought more discomfort - and because the machine took a little while to measure the baby’s heart rate (they usually had me connected to it for 20-30 minutes). ECG must have come back clear as I remember thinking that despite me being in pain the baby was safe and calm, and that thought filled me with a lot of joy and comfort.
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When I finally fell (it was literally all I could do) out of bed, I was asked to visit the ladies’ room again which I agreed was a good idea. James was once again wheeling the large Entonox balloon behind me which I was so grateful for as I had three contractions just on the way to the restroom - they just wouldn’t ease off!
When I was finished, the midwife told me that my waters have broken. I was oblivious to anything new at this point, but she explained that she could tell because it has a very distinct smell. I don’t have a great sense of smell so took her world for it, becoming more excited as this was another milestone and meant that the baby was definitely on the way!
She also did some urine tests and told us that my body was running on ketones, which meant that I was using stored calories and not food for energy, which wasn’t efficient for the task in hand. I realised that two yoghurt pots and a cereal bar may not be enough for what my body was going through so that made perfect sense. She rushed out and brought back a pack of awful tasting orange-flavoured sugar sweets.
I hobbled back into the ward and, looking around my options realised that I had already tried most of them: the grey bouncy ball, the mattress on the floor, curled on the bed - all of these options felt tried and tested and were quickly ruled out with a memory of how uncomfortable they felt in the end, so I decided to try something new. I grabbed the back of a chair for an upright position and there I was standing, propped up like a leaning tree. This is when the midwives decided to close all windows of the large ward saying that it was for the benefit of the baby as they will need a warm environment to be born into, but they also understood that this would make me less comfortable. This was when I jokingly asked James to mop my brow (as they often do in films!)!
However, the joke soon worn off as it had become extremely hot and I began sweating profusely. I was commanding James to mop my brow again and again, and he kept running around refreshing the towels with the cold water. This was so useful for me as it helped me stay relatively cool and comfortable, but must have been a real task for James.
As well as mopping my brow, he was also feeding my these horrible sugar pills, saying that I should munch these as I needed the energy. I remember thinking that I’d rather have some chocolate (as I knew I had some in the drawer by the bed) and James ran to get me a mini Milky Way chocolate bar from our bag. It is not one of my favourites, but it was a nice change from the sugar pills (and I am sure did the same job!). Later James told me that at this time I had specifically requested a Milky Way and he had to rummage in our packed bags to find it, as I had no other sample anywhere at a ready. I didn’t realise I was so literate with my instructions! He is such a champion!
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I was still standing holding onto the back of a chair when the contractions became really intense. This is when I cranked TENS a little bit more and instead of just a warm vibration it gave me a feeling of tensing, ripping and burning my skin. This was still a better sensation than the pain of contractions so I went with it, embracing the distraction as and when I needed it, all the while using gas & air as well to help me remain calm and relaxed.
Then the contractions became different and started to feel like actual pushes. Instead of just a painful cramp, it was a sensation of grabbing the baby with my tummy and pelvic floor muscles and pushing them down. I told this to the midwife and after a quick examination she said that I wasn’t ready to push yet, so I should let the body do what it wants to do but shouldn’t consciously join in with the push - simply relax and breathe through the new sensations.
Water droplets began running down my legs and it felt very tickly and therefore uncomfortable. I asked James to wipe my legs, once again getting my lefts and rights mixed up and then getting annoyed at James for not knowing which leg I actually meant. It was a funny situation and my dear husband really did all he could to make me feel better. Did I mention how much I love him? I think I told the midwife that I wanted to marry him again (and I think she said that I couldn’t do that!).
After a while of me having the “I’m about to push this baby out” kind of contractions, which got stronger and stronger, the midwife checked me over and decided that it was best to put the rubber mattress under my feet. It was a little unnerving, as I thought the baby may come any minute now and was a little afraid of them just popping out and onto the mattress from a height of about 3ft. I know they say that upright delivery position is quite helpful, but it was a little scary nonetheless. Luckily, just as I stood on the mattress, the midwife decided that it would be better if I got into bed. She pushed some buttons on the hospital bed and contorted it into a sort of L shape with the head of the bed rising up. She directed me to climb onto the bed and prop my head with more pillows facing the front, allowing me to kneel in a semi-upright position. I was more than happy to try this out as the standing position had become tiresome and lost its short-lived novelty value, thus becoming uncomfortable too.
James and I were left alone in the ward again (as we often had been) and the strong pushy contractions continued. There I was kneeling on the bed propped up by a million pillows, with my best friends Entonox and TENS in each hand. A new midwife popped in asking how things were progressing and I remember telling her that it feels like I’m about to push the baby out. This is when our midwife came back in and checked me over again, exclaiming to James that I was now 9cm dilated. I know this happened at around quarter to three because James sent his sister a message saying “Close! 9cm…” at 2.47pm.
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The midwife instructed me to continue avoiding actively and consciously pushing because we were still a little way off being fully ready to ascend to the final stages of labour. The contractions seemed to ease off and I could rest for the first time since early morning hours. The midwife explained that this is normal and common, and that I should take this time to recover and brace myself as the body was preparing for the worst of it. She actually said that “the worst was still to come” which I think would have terrified me had I not been so deeply in “the zone”, just breathing through various sensations. I quickly told myself that there was no stopping whatever was about to happen and it was better to embrace it instead of dreading it. I was excited because the end was in sight and I was about to hold my baby in my arms. I think I smiled the whole time though labour and I wasn’t going to stop now. Besides, for now there was nothing for me to do, but rest and breathe.
The nurses wheeled in a horrible looking baby resuscitation machine, saying we all hope we didn’t have to use it but there it was just in case - seeing as we were a “red alert” case. I have very little memory of this, but I do remember feeling glad that we were doing this in the hospital ward and not at home on Eday.
A little time had passed with the midwife examining me every 10 minutes or so, then she asked if I could roll onto my back in preparation for pushing the baby. I rolled over and saw nurses wheeling a new bed into the ward. They put the new bed besides mine and asked if I could shimmy across to the new one. With some difficulty (mainly because of my drowsy dreamy state of mind) I did it and wondered why this bed was any better, than saw that it had special feet / leg supports on the sides. I laughed to myself because all throughout my pregnancy the midwives kept telling me that giving birth is nothing like they show on TV and yet this was beginning to resemble a typical film-style birthing scene more and more.
To avoid further TV cliches and to rescue as much of our original ideas as possible, both James and I asked the midwife if she could avoid telling us the gender of the baby and allow us to discover who the baby is (Ronald or Abigail) for ourselves. She agreed and then I realised that I was still connected to the TENS machine that was now running at a fairly high setting. I just had to ask - will the midwives be ok? Would they get electrocuted if I left it on? This sounds so silly now (as I type this two weeks later) but at the time, with my scrambled, sleep and food deprived brain, high on Entonox and hormones, it somehow made sense to check.
So now I was laying on this new bed, feet resting inside the plastic supports and totally ready for that “worst part” the midwife talked about earlier. She did try to take the Entonox nozzle away from me, saying that I needed to be alert, concentrate and follow her advice but I quickly snatched it back saying that I won’t actively use it but that it was a psychological “crutch” that made me feel safer and more ready for whatever was about to happen. I wanted it in my hand. I wanted it close.
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I laid there waiting for something to happen when I briefly glanced at my belly and noticed that it was no longer the round hard pregnant baby belly that I’d come to love. Instead it was flat and floppy and looked as if the baby wasn’t even in there! It was really strange but I realised the baby must have well and truly descended into my pelvis and hip area and this was really the last stage of labour. It was a comforting and exciting thought - I was about to become a Mum!
So I waited and nothing was happening. Then the midwife confirmed that my contractions seemed to have slowed down - all the way down. They were not coming for a really long time. Not coming at all. This was really bad - not sure how bad medically speaking, but really bad for me, personally. There I was, in no pain at all, comfortable for the first time since the wee hours in the night, laying on my back in a warm room, propped up by pillows. I have had 12 hours of intense labour with only a couple of hours of sleep beforehand and only a few little snacks all day. I was also still drowsy from the Entonox. . . It was really no surprise that all I wanted to do was sleep!
Then, the contractions started again. Few and far apart, but definitely there. Then they came more and more. I could feel them coming and building up and I would tell James and the midwife that they were close and then it would hit me and the sensation was that of pushing the baby and I was so excited. The contractions have been working on pushing the baby out for a while before they even wheeled this new bed into the ward and the sensations now felt exactly the same - the only difference was, the midwife was now instructing and encouraging me to join in with the effort and actively help the baby to be born. She advised not to push on my own as that would tire me out, but push with contractions.
I felt no pain and I have to say that I enjoyed this part. It felt like I wasn’t doing much of the work, it was all my body working on its own accord with me simply helping out. Yes, it was hard work, I felt full muscle engagement (imagine trying to lift a heavy weight off the floor), but there was no pain! It also felt very right and natural and there was no stopping it - just going with it, pushing with it, waiting it out in between.
Well, not so much waiting, more like. . . really hoping I could just sleep. Get it over with and sleep. Just close my eyes for a little while. Just a wink. A little nap. I was so tired! A thought crossed my mind that if they had to bring out the ventouse suction cup or delivery forceps to get the baby out, they should just go ahead and do it. I could just see it being justified as “maternal exhaustion” on all the paperwork later on and I was totally cool with that. It actually would have been very accurate - exhausted is exactly what I was!
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Whilst I was having a little nod, the nurses were doing some admin work - I could see them having set up a little table area just a few feet away filling in some paperwork. I guess it was time well spent as there was very little help that I needed at these inbetweeny times. I could feel the contractions coming and would tell them that I was about to push, so the midwife would come and check on the progress and then go back to her work, leaving me to doze a little more.
In the meantime, James kept hoping that we didn’t have to leave the ward and be transferred to a cold and clinical delivery room, where all that equipment was based. He was hoping (and so was I, really) for a normal, natural delivery with no intervention so he started telling me how close we were to that magical moment of greeting our little baby and that it’s exactly what we have been waiting for! He said this was the run to the finish line, a final result for all the really hard work of today! He was holding my hand and kept telling me that I should just focus on the next push and not think of how long this might take (a thought crossed my mind that some people push for 3 or 4 hours!). He also started frantically feeding me the orange sugar pills that the midwives had given him previously. It was one sweet after another - and then some water. More sweets and more water. Then even more sweets! They were vile: brittle at first then instantly gloopy, overly sweet and just horrible! Utterly yuck!
But they were helping! A sweet, water, a sweet, water, more sweets and bam - the contraction! More sweets - another contraction! I started to feel less sleepy and more present in the room and when the pushes happened (which had begun to be more frequent) I felt as though I had more energy for engaging all my muscles. James was holding my hand the entire time and I was summoning more and more energy, becoming more and more ready for the next push. The drowsy sleepy feeling was dissipating and I felt more present and alert.
Each contraction brought on three strong pushes, with the last one being the strongest and longest. I was holding James’s hand with my left hand and leaning over to my right side, holding onto my right thigh for added support during pushes. I must have been a right mess at this point, exhausted and contorted! The midwife, however, was so happy saying that I was pushing really well and that it’s usually quite tricky for the first time mums, but I was doing really well. I was so happy and proud of myself when she said that.
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A couple more pushes (or a lot more, I have no way of telling!) and the midwife confirmed that she could feel the baby’s head, which she said was full of hair. I could just remember someone saying that if heartburn is a problem in pregnancy (which it was!) the baby was going to have nice hair. She also felt around for the fontanelles to determine which way the baby was facing and then said the baby wasn’t going to take too much longer now. This was so exciting and reassuring to hear!
The pushes became even stronger and the midwife said she could now see the baby’s head - he was facing away from James and towards the midwife on the right side. I looked over at James for confirmation and all I could see so much love, awe and wonder on his face! I will never forget that expression of utter and pure amazement which at that time gave me so much strength. Seeing a man I love in so much joy was so wonderful for me to see. He was somewhere in between laughing and crying and I just focused on his face sensing so much love which made me feel proud and really helped me forget all my exhaustion and inspired me to do more, give my all and do my best.
The sensations that followed were not something I had read about or was told about so I was completely unprepared for. I would describe it as weird. Not unpleasant, not painful, not uncomfortable - just weird. I would give the baby a push and feel them progress outwards, then as I released the tension the baby would get vacuum-sucked back into my belly. It was so bizarre! Then the contraction would come again and the baby was out. . . and then get sucked back inside! It felt so weird and, worst of all - never ending! They were out and then back in. Out and back in. All I could think was - this was so pointless, why can’t someone just grab the baby and tug them out? I just hoped there was some progress as it all felt so pointless from my perspective. . . Later James told me that the baby was coming out more and more with each push, so there was definitely a lot of progress!
I didn’t realise it at the time, but at the start of this exhausting new pushing stage I got connected to an ECG machine again so that the midwives could monitor the baby’s heart rate and make sure that the baby is healthy and calm. James remembers this stage as super awkward and exhausting - he was holding my hand whilst also passing me sugar pills, water and mopping my brow with the spare hand whilst at the same time also holding the ECG monitor pads nice and firmly over my belly so that it would pick up baby’s heart rate. It was a three or four handed operation but he did it so well!
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Later the nurses told me that the baby had actually passed meconium whilst still inside the womb, which was indeed a sign of distress. They also advised that the heart rate was frequently dropping from a nice high 140bpm to as low as 85bpm, dropping more and more with each push (especially during this coming and going stage). They said the heart rate came back up just before the contraction but then dropped more and more, especially at the third push. I was oblivious to this at the time, but James could see the ECG monitor right in front of him and this was getting him so worried and concerned about the baby!
The end was near! I knew it because the midwife said that an assistant nurse was pacing the corridor outside waiting to be invited as she was needed to help at the final stages of delivery and take notes. James was also asked to put blue medical rubber gloves on so that he could catch the baby.
When they were all in positions, she instructed me to give one strong final push saying that I may feel a stingy painful sensation as the baby needs to remain slightly exposed but calm. She said I should breathe through any further urges as she checks the baby over. I did that and she confirmed that the baby was fine, there was no umbilical cord wrapped around their neck and they were safe to come out. She then told me not to push hard, but instead give a couple of really gentle short pushes, which I did. One time - I felt a slight pressure. Two times - I felt a strong pressure. Three times - I could feel that we were very close, I felt a lot of sharp pain and couldn’t help but ask them to “get the baby out, just get it out!”.
The midwife grabbed James’s hands and placed them on the baby! One more push and as soon as the baby's ears were out, the whole baby just slipped out too! James was the first to touch and catch the little whaling creature and the midwife grabbed the bottom and legs of the baby and swung them around - this is when both James and I simultaneously saw that we had a baby boy. A Son. Ronald.
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A son. . .
They quickly placed the baby on my chest, someone put a white knitted hat on his head and placed some blankets on top of us both.
A baby!
I briefly saw that James had cut the umbilical cord and I was so happy. The last little piece of our original birth plan, more symbolic than emotional, but I was so happy!
I’m a Mum!
The baby was flailing his arms around and crying but I was so overwhelmed and in shock that I didn’t hear his cries, didn’t hear what anyone else was saying, didn’t really see what was going on. I had tunnel vision - there was me and the baby and the rest of the world had disappeared.
Cwtches with the baby! I was so oblivious to everything else that was going on. . .
They quickly placed the baby on my chest, someone put a white knitted hat on his head and placed some blankets on top of us both.
A baby!
I briefly saw that James had cut the umbilical cord and I was so happy. The last little piece of our original birth plan, more symbolic than emotional, but I was so happy!
I’m a Mum!
The baby was flailing his arms around and crying but I was so overwhelmed and in shock that I didn’t hear his cries, didn’t hear what anyone else was saying, didn’t really see what was going on. I had tunnel vision - there was me and the baby and the rest of the world had disappeared.
Cwtches with the baby! I was so oblivious to everything else that was going on. . .
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But I now know that the placenta struggled to detach from my uterus despite me having an injection of some special drug for an actively managed third stage. This is when, with James’s approval (as I was so out of it!), I had another injection into my thigh and the midwives had “gently massaged” my belly to assist. . . It helped and, although I didn’t see it myself, James tells me that the placenta was huge!
This is when they realised that I had hemorrhaged during the pushing stage as there was too much blood for what was considered normal. There was a possibility of me having to have a surgery to stop the bleeding, but luckily, after a huge gush of blood, it stopped! There was a lot of blood on the bed and on the floor as well - the nurses estimated that I had lost over 500ml of it!
Once the bleeding stopped, they also realised that I had a second degree perineal tear, meaning that both the skin and the muscle had to be sutured back together. This is when the midwife had realised that she’d been on shift with me for 11 hours and that this is a job for a surgeon, so she left to go home to her husband and dogs (which I totally understand!) and a surgeon came in to get me fixed up.
I was laying on the bed which was perfect for this kind of surgery, as it easily transforms into whatever shape they need it to be, but I was laying too low down, so as I was holding the baby, I briefly remember 3 or 4 nurses and James gathering all around me, grabbing the bottom sheet and dragging me higher up towards the head of the bed. I was momentarily self-conscious about how heavy I must have been, but then my focus returned to the baby who was now rooting for a feed, so tiny and magical and I didn’t care about anything else anymore.
They wheeled the bed closer to another wall for a better light and after a little while of fussing around with the leg supports managed to bend the bottom part of the bed down so that the doctor can get close to where she was needed and I was given some local anaesthetic for the surgery, but at times it was also nice to be able to grab the Entonox nozzle and further numb the sharp stingy sensations she was creating (Oh, I was glad I hung on to it!).
As they were suturing me up and I was holding the baby and there was very little for James left to do in the ward, so he was busy updating our family and Twitter followers with our good news. His family in Australia were so excited and happy for us, they wanted to fly over and have lots of hugs with little Ronnie! My Nan was also eagerly asking for any news - but James doesn’t speak Lithuanian, so he just rushed in and took a photo of me and the baby and sent to her - a photo is really worth a thousand words!
In the meantime, Ronnie was crying so I sang him my favourite song (Mariah Carey’s “Whenever You Call”) to try to calm him down as I used to sing this a lot during pregnancy too and figured he may remember it and find it comforting and reassuring. I then started telling him all that I could think of about Sam and Charlie and our island of Eday. I could see the nurses smiling at us and that’s when he calmed down and started to root around for his first meal. This was very much a hold my breath kind of a moment, but after a couple of minutes of bouncing his little head and nuzzling his mouth around my breast, he latched on like a champion and was having a good munch - phew, we had no problems there! The midwife came and showed James that his bottom lip should always stay in that correct outward position or I may find it uncomfortable. I am glad James was there to take this advice in as I took little notice of anything other than the baby.
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Once it was all done they pushed the bed back into its original position. At some point they also put a cloth nappy on the baby and he was nice and calm (and cute, and little, and perfect, and my son!), I was in love and in a daze and James left to go to the shop to get some tasty nibbles for our dinner. It was raining and, he says he was walking to the shops without realising he was getting wet - he was in a state of awe and shock, and all he could do was what he always did best in moments like that - focus on tasty food! The nurses came back into the ward and asked if I could jump off the bed so they could clean it up, but I wanted more hugs with the baby and didn’t feel like moving just yet. I said I would get myself sorted once James returns and they were totally fine with that.
I reached over to the bedside cabinet and grabbed my ham salad sandwich which had gone soggy and limp in the plastic wrapper, but it was food and I was happy to have it. Then Ronnie started to cry and I tried breastfeeding again, holding him in various different positions and covering him up with more blankets, but nothing seemed to settle him. So he cried. And then I cried too. It was so overwhelming - there I was on my own with a crying baby and I didn’t know what to do, what was wrong or how I could soothe my little boy.
At this very minute James came back, noticed the baby was unsettled and scooped him up in his arms. The baby stopped crying immediately and I realised that I had been too gentle and ginger with him, treating him like a precious little thing he was - yet, the baby wanted a nice firm hold, strong arms, proper swaddle and safety. And that’s what his Daddy gave him.
James was holding little Ronnie over his shoulder, nice and firmly, walking around the hospital ward telling the baby that he (and I quote): “will be better in 5. . . 4. . . 3. . . 2. . . 1!” and the baby was silent and James was in love and that’s when I grabbed the camera for that final scene in our "Here comes the baby" vlog, there was so much love and emotion in James that I just had to capture it!
The nurses came back in to help me get off the bed and get sorted. I still had the TENS machine connected to me (and going nice and strong) so they took that away and I made it off the bed. This is when I briefly saw all the blood on the sheets, but it seemed so unimportant to me because everything was so well. They helped me hobble into the shower and I remember feeling happy and grateful for having a shower, feeling refreshed and clean, but also being afraid to mess up the stitches, feeling sore and bulging in private places. They said I’d be totally fine drying myself with a towel so I did. I noticed my belly in the mirror, it looked soft and flat and deflated. . . I then got dressed and then I was back in the ward.
The bed was clean. The ward was tidy. The nurses had left and there was only my husband and my son there. We took our first family photo together and then we ate.
The rest of that day and the following night makes up the first entry of my "First Time Mum" blog:
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