Tacey
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A week ago today, I was in labour, so I thought I'd get on and write a birth story.
After a few close calls that fizzled out disappointingly, I wasn’t getting my hopes too high when I started getting cramps on Thursday evening. I’d been for a longish walk, and thought I could just be achy. As seems to often be the way, once DD was in bed, the whole thing stepped up a gear, and we decided to start filling the pool. There was so much to keep us occupied, the first bit flew by. After a while, we decided to call our doula, and straight away she and DH made a brilliant team. I felt so supported. Contractions were intense, but always manageable. As they started to become harder, I got in the pool, and felt like I was at a spa. Blissful. Contractions were much easier for a while, and I was really enjoying myself.
After a while, they were building in intensity again, and each one felt like a fight. We decided to call the midwives. As the first arrived, I was getting the urge to push. I accepted a VA, and she told me to try not to push as I was only 8cm. Instead of feeling encouraged to be nearly there, I felt thrown and didn’t know how to cope with the next contractions. I looked up at the bunting made for me by a friend, and was drawn to two words on it - surrender and trust. With the next contraction I found myself listening to my body and accepting the sensations, and with that, my waters burst. The relief was almost orgasmic! I felt back in control, and ready to take on what I knew was the last stage. I could feel the head descend, and touched silky soft hair. I was so ready to meet this baby now! I went into a dreamy sort of state, and alternated little pants and pushes, feeling my way around the baby’s head, massaging and pushing back the skin around until the head was born. I gave an almighty push with my hands ready and expectant that I’d be lifting my child up to meet me. Nothing happened.
I came back to the room, hearing the various people in the room encouraging me ever more desperately to push, turn, move this way, that way. Nothing worked. I realised his shoulders were stuck. The older midwife commanded me to get out of the pool, and as I raised my leg over the edge, the other midwife pulled at baby’s head, and the body finally slithered out, seven minutes after his head had been born.
Baby was whisked over to the sofa, and was blue and still. I saw I had a little boy. He wasn’t breathing, and despite my pleading, they clamped and cut his cord. Lots of rubbing continued, and he took a tiny first breath. After some oxygen, he was beginning to get pink, and gave a pathetic little cry. Despite the older midwife’s obvious preference that he be dressed immediately, I snuggled him skin to skin, and he soon seemed to perk up, opening his wise little eyes and staring right into me. They decided checking him over in hospital would be worthwhile, and Arthur and I shared our first ever journey in an ambulance. All was well, and we returned home at midday to start life as a family of 4.
Despite the scary few minutes, it was easily the best experience of my life. I am so glad we chose a home birth, as I think things may have been very different otherwise.
Sorry for the lengthy story - well done if you've got this far!
Edit: I forgot to mention he was a rather surprising 10lbs 5oz.
Here's a couple of pictures:
https://i783.photobucket.com/albums/yy111/laylatacey/IMAG0285.jpg
https://i783.photobucket.com/albums/yy111/laylatacey/IMAG0279-Copy.jpg
After a few close calls that fizzled out disappointingly, I wasn’t getting my hopes too high when I started getting cramps on Thursday evening. I’d been for a longish walk, and thought I could just be achy. As seems to often be the way, once DD was in bed, the whole thing stepped up a gear, and we decided to start filling the pool. There was so much to keep us occupied, the first bit flew by. After a while, we decided to call our doula, and straight away she and DH made a brilliant team. I felt so supported. Contractions were intense, but always manageable. As they started to become harder, I got in the pool, and felt like I was at a spa. Blissful. Contractions were much easier for a while, and I was really enjoying myself.
After a while, they were building in intensity again, and each one felt like a fight. We decided to call the midwives. As the first arrived, I was getting the urge to push. I accepted a VA, and she told me to try not to push as I was only 8cm. Instead of feeling encouraged to be nearly there, I felt thrown and didn’t know how to cope with the next contractions. I looked up at the bunting made for me by a friend, and was drawn to two words on it - surrender and trust. With the next contraction I found myself listening to my body and accepting the sensations, and with that, my waters burst. The relief was almost orgasmic! I felt back in control, and ready to take on what I knew was the last stage. I could feel the head descend, and touched silky soft hair. I was so ready to meet this baby now! I went into a dreamy sort of state, and alternated little pants and pushes, feeling my way around the baby’s head, massaging and pushing back the skin around until the head was born. I gave an almighty push with my hands ready and expectant that I’d be lifting my child up to meet me. Nothing happened.
I came back to the room, hearing the various people in the room encouraging me ever more desperately to push, turn, move this way, that way. Nothing worked. I realised his shoulders were stuck. The older midwife commanded me to get out of the pool, and as I raised my leg over the edge, the other midwife pulled at baby’s head, and the body finally slithered out, seven minutes after his head had been born.
Baby was whisked over to the sofa, and was blue and still. I saw I had a little boy. He wasn’t breathing, and despite my pleading, they clamped and cut his cord. Lots of rubbing continued, and he took a tiny first breath. After some oxygen, he was beginning to get pink, and gave a pathetic little cry. Despite the older midwife’s obvious preference that he be dressed immediately, I snuggled him skin to skin, and he soon seemed to perk up, opening his wise little eyes and staring right into me. They decided checking him over in hospital would be worthwhile, and Arthur and I shared our first ever journey in an ambulance. All was well, and we returned home at midday to start life as a family of 4.
Despite the scary few minutes, it was easily the best experience of my life. I am so glad we chose a home birth, as I think things may have been very different otherwise.
Sorry for the lengthy story - well done if you've got this far!
Edit: I forgot to mention he was a rather surprising 10lbs 5oz.
Here's a couple of pictures:
https://i783.photobucket.com/albums/yy111/laylatacey/IMAG0285.jpg
https://i783.photobucket.com/albums/yy111/laylatacey/IMAG0279-Copy.jpg
