Just want to preface this by saying I cannot even express how much I love my son, and that yeah I'd do it again if I had to but God it was the worst experience of my life. And then I come here and feel awful cuz everyone else seems to have had such a wonderful experience Sorry it's so long, I just need to get this out but I don't know anyone I can speak to irl. I was living four hours away from my hometown, and the father of my son, due to really unsupportive family there. I was staying with my stepmum who was so nice and supportive. About three and a half weeks before I was due, Vaughn (my son's dad) called me and said he'd found us a place and if I'd still be interested in giving living together a try- we had seperate rooms. I said yes and moved up that weekend. As such I didn't have a midwife or any familial support anymore. I went into labour at about one am April 1st eighteen days early. I'd gone to the bathroom, then just after pulling up my undies I thought I'd wet myself - but no, it was my waters. I packed my hospital bag and got ready to go, and woke up Vaughn at about three thirty - my contractions weren't painful but they were coming every 5 mins for a minute and I'd read that was a good time to go in, even though I knew once I went in I wasn't leaving again, due to my waters already having broken. Not sure about the practice in other countries but here, if your water breaks, you aren't leaving hospital without a baby - the chances of infection are too high. We were in a room at the hospital by 4, and that was when things started to get bad. I was in agony but only 1cm dilated, they gave me pethidine and half an hour later gas, but it wasn't helping at all. He was high and up by my back. Got an agonising exam done, still one cm. At this point I was screaming through the contractions, I couldn't handle the pain, I just wanted him out I didn't care how. Vaughn later told me I was crying and pleading for a csection, or an epidural, anything to stop the pain. After an hour they checked me again and I was eight cm, and told it was too late for an epidural. *******s. Started pushing and it was so excruciating I was just crying and saying I couldn't do it but I didn't have a choice. Vaughn was no help. I barely knew him anyway, we only dated for a few weeks, he just stood back and watched and gave no support at all. I don't think he spoke a word or touched me the whole time. At eight am Devon was born, I had 3rd degree tearing as well. Honestly I didn't even know until the hospital midwife told me, I'd been in so much pain that the tearing hadn't even registered. So I went down to theatre to get stitched up. When I woke up all the pain was gone and my son was there, and I was so happy, but I wish I'd had a birth I could look back on and smile. As it is it was so traumatic I don't remember a lot of it, the only reason I remember so much is that I keep a diary and I wrote down my experience just after I woke. The saddest thing to me is that my clearest memory of what should have been a thoroughly magical and blessed experience is sobbing and wishing I'd never gotten pregnant, if only the agony would stop.