My labour of love

Having spent my entire labour on twitter, writing about each stage, it does seem a little ironic that it’s taken me over a month to get my birth story up on my blog.

Well, it started with my waters breaking. I was reading Felix his bedtime story when I felt a pop. Nothing else happened, not even when I stood up. I sort of expected a gush.

Eventually I felt some waters trickling out but not very much. Whilst mildly freaking out about what was to come, I ate my dinner and called my mum over to babysit. Then, I rang the hospital only to find out that they were closed to admissions and I needed to contact the other local hospital. Eek!

So we stayed at home and watched a bit of Michael McIntyre (laughing releases endorphins which lessens the pain, apparently) and timed contractions. Eventually we decided we should try to sleep, but mum was in our bed, so Paul got out the sofa bed and some blankets and dozed off whilst I closed my eyes. Contractions were around every 10 minutes so I didn’t get to sleep. But the rest was nice and twitter kept me company!

As contractions became more like 5 minutes apart, I rang the hospital again to find they had re-opened - wahoo! Grabbed another bite to eat and then we headed off, in the snow. I had a mild panic as the car wouldn’t reverse of our sloped driveway, but we got there in the end.

Of course, as soon as we arrived at hospital (around 3am), the contractions slowed down and became less regular again. And on examining me, the doctor couldn’t even confirm that my waters had broken. So at 6am I got transferred to a ward and Paul went home for a sleep. I would have loved to have got some sleep myself, but what with a contraction creeping up on me every half hour at the LONGest and the sound of newborn babies crying in the room, there was no chance. I may have dozed, but that was it.

At 11am, Paul, Felix and my mum arrived to visit. I was already missing Felix despite having put him to bed just the night before. I blame it on the emotions! He was a bit restless so mum took him away again and Paul stayed hoping we’d give birth soon. We started trying to speed things up by walking round and round the ward and even sideways up and down the stairs.

We got back to regular 5 minute contractions, although there was still the occasional longer gap. But I was having to concentrate on breathing through the pain. I enquired at what point I would go back to the delivery suite and the midwife explained that I’d be examined as I'd need to be in established labour (3cm dilated) before they could send me back. She also advised me that there was no gas and air until I got back to delivery.

Now I understand that they must often have people demanding pain relief before they really need it. But not me. By the time I was asking her the above questions, I really needed it already. I might have looked very calm, in control and without pain to her, but I knew I was getting there.

Anyway, I did as I was told, took my painkillers and got in the bath. I hated the bath. Maybe because of the stupid angle I had to sit at, but the contractions hurt way more and I got out after only two contractions.

On returning to the midwife (around 5.45pm) to ask for pain relief she said she would get me monitored before an examination - I was a bit narked by this as I KNEW I needed pain relief and just wanted to get back to the delivery suite as soon as possible.

I probably made them think even more, that I wasn’t too close, when I went and got a plate full of food. Well, I didn’t want to miss dinner time (seriously, I love the NHS food THAT much). I managed to eat most of my carb fest (pasta, creamed potatoes AND chips all on one plate) before the midwife arrived to monitor me. I did have to shout at Paul to take the plate off me a few times and hit GO on the contraction timer for me. ("Tray, ‘start’, agh, ohh, oooh, owww, etc.")

The midwife came and strapped me up. She witnessed a couple of these contractions and, I think, began to realise that I was further along than they’d assumed. Personally I felt sorry for the new mums in the same room, having to listen to me!

The baby’s heartbeat was fine so she got on with the internal exam but struggled to find my cervix. In the meantime I was contracting away, writhing around on the bed and sobbing. She finally found and pulled forward my cervix (I guess that was the bit that really hurt then?!) and told me, not only that my amniotic sac was bulging (i.e. waters had not broken) but also that I was 6cm dilated.

Hello. Established labour. WHERE’s the pain relief then?

Unfortunately, the baby didn't like what she'd done and his heart rate dropped. Significantly.

"I don't want you to panic but I'm going to pull the emergency button and get you straight onto delivery".

Panic? Me? No chance. I'm in immense pain and you're going to get me to the pain relief quickly. I LOVE YOU.

I remember worrying a bit that Paul would panic though. Anyway. Suddenly there were people everywhere wheeling me and my bed through the doors and into the lift. This is when I wrote my last tweet, at 6.20pm and handed my phone over to Paul to keep safe.

Back on delivery the contractions were coming back to back and I just managed to squeeze out the words "I want to push".

My delivery midwife told me to go with it if I wanted to push. But she also wanted me to move onto another bed which was near impossible at the time. Every time I thought a contraction was easing off and I tried to move another one came along and I was crippled over, head hanging off the side of my bed just sucking on the gas tube.

On top of this she also wanted to attach a probe to the baby’s head to monitor his heartbeat. I guess I was moving too much for the external fetal monitor to work - whoops! But likewise, as there was no let up between contractions, there was no way she was going to get to do it.

I have no idea where Paul was at this point, bless him, but he told me later he’d been really worried by my lack of cooperation!

Eventually I managed to crawl across to the bed and get almost into my preferred position. I had been half heartedly pushing all this time, partly because in the back of my mind, I was only 6cm dilated and didn’t want to do myself any damage, but mainly because I was in so much pain that I couldn’t control myself enough to push.

Finally in a decent position, sucking on the gas and air like my life depended on it, I began to regain control of my body and started to push properly.

Wow, did it feel different to my first labour.

Ok, so they think maybe my hind waters had broken, meaning the TOP of the bag broke and any water behind his bottom may have trickled out. But the fluid around his body and in front of his head was still there which made it feel like I was pushing out a bulging balloon of water. It seemed to be much harder work than my first labour where my waters had properly broken and I was pushing out a head instead.

All of a sudden they told me he was crowning. One more push and Elliot’s head was out. I don't think I believed the midwives so I put a hand down to feel him!! Clearly the gas and air had done something odd to me!

The next push seemed much more effort than I remember from my first labour too, but out he popped and, as requested, they put him straight onto my chest. Totally different to Felix being whisked away for prematurity health checks. I just held on tight to Elliot whilst trying to calm down and regain control over my breathing.

Elliot was born at 7pm, weighing 7lb 1oz. I think it’s quite normal to feel totally elated and proud of yourself after pushing out a little baby, but I have to say, holding him immediately afterwards whilst recovering from the shock, makes it the MOST special feeling in the world.

Man Flu and a Show

I have man flu. It's official. I know it's just a cold, but it's the worst cold I've ever had. Have been totally knocked for six and want to just wallow in bed all day.

I woke up feeling fine on Thursday, but by the end of the day it was already 'really bad'. And I barely slept Thursday night. Friday was spent snoozing on the sofa, napping and then off to bed early. Not that I went to sleep early. I reckon I got about 4 hours sleep for the 4th night running and today have been feeling just as terrible.

Only this morning, whilst daddy and toddler were out burning off some energy at soft play and in the snow, I had a show.

It wasn't quite how I expected a show to be (of course last time, my waters broke and that was the first I knew that anything was happening). I noticed a bit of colour in my undies (sorry fellas) so had a good look at the loo roll when I went for a wee. Nothing. Stood up and there sunk down at the bottom of the water was a lightly red/brown squiggly looking thing. Eeek!

So after texting hubby with the good news, I settled myself back in bed and started timing contractions. Not for the first time. They seemed to be fairly regular at 15 minute intervals, but after hubby got home, I missed a couple, or they didn't happen. Eventually I decided that sleep was the best thing for me so I went off for my nap and ignored anything else. Haven't really noticed anything since either. But at least a show suggests it's going to happen soon.

Maybe, if my body is really good to me, it will recover from man flu before it goes into labour.

Although, now I've had a sign that it's imminent, I'm quite excited at the prospect of having a November baby instead of adding to the endless birthdays in the month of December. Fingers crossed.

Could it be tomorrow?

This time last pregnancy I was struggling my way through what seemed like a very long day.

Having left work the day before, I spent the morning of my first day's maternity leave putting together a stand for our moses basket which we hadn't yet bought(!) and in the afternoon, we did a bit of shopping for nursery furnishings. Well, we did a very small amount of shopping as I was way too tired and had to give up and come home.

Then, the next day, I gave birth. At 33weeks+6days gestation, over 6 weeks early.

So will I be repeating this premature birthing option tomorrow? I doubt it. Despite the extreme tiredness I am feeling today, there is no reason for me to give birth prematurely this time and I am nowhere near the size yet that I was last time. And, thankfully, neither are my ankles!! My tiredness today can be put down to a toddler who didn't sleep well last night and a big old shopping trip on Saturday. Well, we need to be prepared for Christmas early if anyone's to get any gifts this year!

So from 4pm tomorrow, I hope to be venturing into the unknown phase of late pregnancy. Given how huge and heavy I already feel most days, I'm not expecting to take much enjoyment from this, but it will be a new experience for me!

A Surprise Birth

I promised Kathryn over at I Know I Need To Stop Talking that I would blog my birth story for her to read as she psyches herself up for her second birth. And I thought it would be quite a cathartic thing to do today whilst I'm trying not to be ungrateful at the discovery that I'm carrying a second boy (who likes girls anyway?).

I had complications with my first pregnancy. Well, I say that, but I never ever considered them to be complications with my actual pregnancy. Just something they picked up on at my first scan which was a complication with my own body. I had a large cystic mass on one of my ovaries (which is another post waiting to happen) and was monitored closely from my second scan onwards.

I also measured 6 weeks ahead of my dates. My mum did too with both pregnancies. She said my brother and I grew large quickly and then slowed down in the last few weeks. But the chances are, my extra size was due to the cyst, it was pretty large. This didn't concern me at the time. The cyst was to be dealt with separately, once the baby had been born.

On a Sunday morning, just two days after I finished work and went onto maternity leave, I woke at 6am for a toilet trip. This was probably the second one of the night as at 34 weeks pregnant, there isn't much room left for your bladder to fill up - and that's without a huge ovary getting in the way too.

At 7am, I sat bolt upright in panic as I felt liquid escaping from between my legs. How could it be wee, it couldn't be wee, I'd only just been to the loo. My husband woke and asked me what was wrong. "I think my waters just broke."

"What?" he responded.

"Well it can't be wee, I only went for a wee an hour ago."

I waddled off to sit on the loo. Nothing else happened so I texted my Aunt who is a midwife to ask how I could check if it was my waters or not (other than smelling it, as your waters are odourless. Your wee, generally, is not!).

A bit worried, we went back to bed, with a towel underneath me, just in case. As I settled myself back against the pillow, GUSH. "Oh my god, it IS my waters, oh my god."

I hobbled back to the bathroom, dripping across the landing. My aunt called me but I didn't answer as we were already ringing the hospital. I texted her to let her know and she wished me luck.

The most classic moment of the day, had to be my husband telling the triage midwife "my waters have broken, err, I mean my WIFE's waters have broken". Bless him, it was all a bit unexpected and we'd only just woken up too!

Anyway, I maintained my calm demeanour, knowing that breaking waters THIS premature didn't necessarily mean baby was on its way out. I might in fact be stuck in hospital for weeks to protect the poor mite from infection now its sack was open. So I packed plenty of entertainment into the pre-prepared emergency version of my hospital bag.

We set off for hospital around 8am, having called or texted or parents and siblings, but no-one else. I hadn't had any breakfast, mainly as I was too shocked to eat, but also as a just in case style precaution. In the car, I felt two minor back ache type pains, like the dull ache of a period pain and I felt a slight need to poo too. Hmmm, this could mean I'm going to give birth today, I thought.

The midwife in triage was lovely. She had a look and said she thought it was my waters but they'd have to get a doctor to come and check. In the meantime, I was strapped up for fetal heart monitoring and to measure contractions. Paul and I started to play a little game, called 'guess when and IF I'm having a contraction'. I would say "I think I can feel something now" and he'd watch the numbers rising on the monitor. I was pleasantly surprised at how painless this all was, but I guess most people don't even realise they're in labour at this stage.

The doctor checked and confirmed that my waters had gone and I was about 3cm dilated. I was going to give birth... maybe not that day, but nevertheless, 6 weeks early. I ran Paul through a verbal version of my birth plan as I hadn't got round to writing it yet.

After a couple of trips to the loo for bowel evacuation (which I insisted Paul accompany me on, poor guy), we were transferred to a delivery suite at midday. Thankfully, they had managed to find a space on the neonatal ward for my premature baby, otherwise we would have been sent to another county to give birth! Eeek!

The contractions started to get painful around 1pm. Our new midwife, who had banned me from eating (cow, I was very hungry), gave me some paracetamol to take (seriously... paracetamol???) which I nearly vomited straight back up. Shortly after this, a nice man from neonatal came to try to explain what potential complications might arise with a baby this premature (I'd been given a steroid injection to help his lungs finish developing, but it didn't look like he was going to be staying inside long enough for this to take effect) and what care he might require. I confess, I heard none of what he said as I was contracting the whole time he was talking and gripping onto my chair for dear life.

I tried having a bit of a walk around (and risking the monitors slipping off) but actually found it was much more comfortable sitting in my big chair with the arms to squeeze whilst I concentrated on breathing my way through my contractions.

By 2pm, I'd asked for the gas and air and was happily puffing my way through each contraction. It didn't have quite the giggly effect on me that it did when I broke my wrist way back when. But it certainly did the job for taking the edge off the pain.

By about 3pm, the midwife suggested I might like to climb onto the bed and she would fetch a doctor to re-examine me. It must have been 3.30pm by the time this happened and I was told I was 10cm (thank god, because I was not going to put up with someone inserting their hand that far inside of me again, thank you very much). (Honestly, how do they do it?).

The urge to push followed swiftly. I like to blame this next fact on having only made the first of my antenatal classes (the second class was due the next day), but my first push was a bit pathetic. Well, really, I'd never done this before. With a bit of gentle coaching from the midwife about putting my chin on my chest, holding my breath and pushing everything down into my bottom area, I started to make some progress. I may also have squeezed the tube to the gas and air a little too hard and broken it. Never mind how Paul's hand felt, he deserved to share the pain.

Another hard push and a burning sensation and there was a head between my legs. As exciting as this was, I have to describe it as one of THE most unusual experiences of my life. Apparently there were quite a lot of people in the room at the time, neonatal nurses and the like. I only knew there was me, Paul, the midwife, and a head between my legs. It turned. I can't blame it, I wouldn't want to be staring at someone's anus either. Another push (or two? do you really expect me to remember THAT much detail?) and he was out (4pm on the dot), cord snipped, bundled into blankets held by the neonatal doctor and whooshed off to the other side of the room.

For what seemed like a very long moment, I forgot about the baby and just grinned from ear to ear. I did it. I just pushed a baby out... I gave birth. I AM AMAZING. Ooh, how's the baby? Is he ok? Is he breathing? God, is he... ahhhhh, my baby just cried. Ahhh.

It was about 20 minutes before they brought him over to me for a cuddle. They explained he had a little bit of a grunt as he breathed but otherwise seemed pretty healthy. Hubby took 3 photos and then he was taken off to special care. It was nearly 3 hours before we saw him again. Possibly the only downside to having a premature baby in my honest opinion.

I loved the way I was gradually eased into being a mum by the constant help and support of the nurses. I loved my stay in hospital for the rest of the week, being cooked for and cleaned up after. I didn't love leaving hospital 5 days later and leaving him there, but on the upside, I got a full night's sleep in my own bed. For 4 nights actually. A little chance to recover from the birth before 'rooming in' with him on the neonatal ward and finally bringing him home 12 days after he was born. I have no idea how people cope if they get sent home the day, or the day after they give birth. How do they know what to do? I can't fault the care we had and I truly wouldn't change it. I would only ask, to be able to hold him straight away and to get stitched up, washed, notes completed (my midwife was in no rush) and upstairs to see him again a little faster.

Back to the delivery suite. My little Felix was wheeled off to the neonatal ward and the midwife jabbed me with my Vitamin K. Holding on to the umbilical cord, the midwife told me to push. I'd already forgotten how. She let go of the cord, unfortunately, just as I remembered how to push. Husband couldn't stop laughing at the way she had to catch the flying placenta that came at her. Easy. My job was done.

I had a minor tear, so she said something or other about stitching me up and I felt a bit confused when she thanked me for allowing her... then as I saw the shaking hand with needle and thread rising from my genitals, I began to realise, she was still fairly inexperienced at this. Oh god. She's shaking with nerves. I'm going to be a complete mess.

I am not. My husband claims she did an excellent job. I try not to question him too much on this. I think you should leave it there too.

I waited around for them to finish cleaning the bathroom before I took a shower, cleaning myself very tentatively. I felt no pain, just very tender. What does one expect?

Then we waited. And waited. Until eventually we went off upstairs, me milking it in a wheelchair, to see our little boy. Where someone jabbed a needle in his foot and made me cry.

I feel very lucky that I had such an easy birth. Just 8 hours from the first contraction to Felix's introduction to life outside the womb. And a nice small 6lb 2oz baby (not small for his prematurity, but small for pushing out). Finger's crossed, this one isn't too much more difficult. I know I've had practice now, but another amazing experience would be much appreciated. I have never been more proud of myself.