A TALE OF TWO VERY DIFFERENT BIRTHS

Recently I was asked to write about my boys’ births and how they differed. Obviously my response was to write a list. What a brilliant opportunity; a chance to really reflect on two of the most formative experiences of my life.

**This list is a longer than usual, but I loved writing it so indulge me… **

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• I thought I prepped for my first birth. NCT classes, every episode of One Born Every Minute. What more could I need?

• Then I went overdue. Really really overdue.

• I wasn’t prepared for that. As someone who does things at 100 mph AND was born 7 weeks premature,  I had naively assumed that this guaranteed me a prompt labour. I was wrong.

• At 41+6 I was booked in for an induction.

• I had zero clues about what that involved, but didn’t care, I just REALLY wanted my baby out.

• The morning of my induction. I went into labour (probably thanks a sweep).

• Rung the delivery ward feeling excited. Not for long:  I must still attend my induction slot as planned.

• What an error. Once in ‘the system’ I was stuck in no-man’s land.

• They wouldn’t induce me because I was in labour.

• They wouldn’t send me home (even though I was only 3 cm) because I was on an induction list.

• I didn’t progress.

• I walked the corridors of St Georges to the point of exhaustion.

• I didn’t progress.

• I cried.

• I didn’t progress.

• I cried some more.

• They sent my husband home.

• I begged to be allowed to go with him.

• I cried.

• I didn’t progress.

• 24 hrs later, someone decided to give me a pessary.

• Things went nuts. Within 10 minutes I was having 7 contractions in 10 – grim.

• Into the delivery room. Active, mobilised labour,  just gas and air, not fun, but I was ok (just).

• I wasn’t very kind to my husband, but that’s by-the-by.

• Then the decision was made that it was time to a) push b) get on my back.

• It felt wrong, but I did what I was told.

• The fateful hour passed. The inevitable episiotomy.

• Then Albert Maverick Telford was here!!

• But I was bleeding. A lot. Cue lots of medical people doing stuff, oxygen mask. Me thinking ‘is this it?’. Terrifying.

• Thankfully the bleeding was controlled quickly. But, in my memory what followed was one nightmare after the next:

• Left alone in the delivery room while I had a panic attack.

• No hug. No reassurance. No quiet word saying ‘it’s ok to feel a bit wobbly after pushing a human out of you fanny’.

• Just a threat of being referred to the psychiatric midwife the next day.

• Firm instruction to breastfeed NOW, even though I was too exhausted to keep my eyes open.

• Tuts of disapproval for not managing to walk to post-delivery ward (after an epsisiotomy!).

• My husband being kicked-out just 45 minutes after we got on the ward.

• Having to ask someone to change my catheter and could I possibly have some paracetamol for my pain?

• Feeling alone, shocked and frankly quite abused.

• Then finally some sleep!

• On waking my heart exploded with love for the tiny human lying next to me. I was a Mummy! Time to step up and be the Mummy he deserved.

• A year passes.

• A confusing life-altering 12 months of sleepless nights and rediscovering myself.

• Then low-and-behold I am up the duff again!

• More freaking-out.  Then a plan: THIS TIME WAS GOING TO BE DIFFERENT.

• I found Hollie (@theyesmummum) and her increds hypnobirthing course.

• Got a place with the community midwives who would give me continuity of care.

• Decided on a home-birth.

• Practised my relaxation techniques.

• Talked about my fears and rationalised them.

• Invested heavily in snacks and posh candles to burn during labour.

• I was prepared and even a bit excited about getting this bubba out.

• Then it happened again. 40 weeks came and went.

• The insanity set in. Hormones, nerves and fear =  some pretty irrational thought processes.

• 41 weeks. I sent Hollie a mental email. Think proper breakdown. How do I get it out? What if my body doesn’t know how to go into labour naturally? Help!

• ‘Let go of the anxiety’ she said. ‘trust your body’, she said.’ It will happen’, she said.

• She was right. The next day I had a sweep. (Only in pregnancy are you mega pleased to have someone stick their hand up you).

• Already 3cm dilated – woo hoo!

• That night went to bed with a suspicion it was ‘game on’. But knew I should get some kip.

• 3am woken by a surge. It was definitely happening. No panic, no fuss. Just a real sense of knowing what needed to be done.

• Dispatched Bertie to my sister’s in Camberwell at 5.45am (Thanks Sus!).

• Then got into the groove of labour; being naked (obvs) and eating Jaffa Cakes,  oh, and the midwife arrived.

• A palaver with the birth pool. The fitting couldn’t connect to our tap. Funny in retrospect, fucking annoying at the time.

• Eventually into the water (bliss). Totally focused on getting to the peak of the surge then down the other side . . . ‘breathe in calm, breathe out tension.’

• It was hardcore. Exhausting. At the time I desperately wanted it to stop. But at no point did I feel worried or out of control.

• The second midwife arrived. Yes!! The end couldn’t be that far off.

• Candles, chilled music, yet more Jaffa cakes. All very lovely. Until transition…

• Suddenly the darkness felt oppressive rather than safe.

• Time for a change of scene; suggested the midwife. Great move.

• The brightness and coolness of the bathroom felt like an epic new chapter.

• No sooner had I taken a seat on the loo than an almighty surge hit.

• My body well and truly took control.

• Leapt up, grabbed my husband in a strangle hold for support, and out came baby’s head.

• Then with the next surge Woodrow Victor Telford made his entrance into the world.

• He was born calmly and quietly with his waters intact or ‘en caul’. Swiftly followed by my placenta, which conveniently went into the toilet.

• The relief was immense.

• I hadn’t been induced.

• I hadn’t used a scrap of pain relief.

• I hadn’t bled. Just a tiny tear that healed naturally.

• And I wasn’t pregnant anymore!! I felt like the luckiest person alive.

• Me and my new dude headed to bed. And that’s where we stayed for the rest of the day (with Pizza Express pizza).

• When people ask me about my labour, I say it was everything I wanted it to be.

• A wonderful empowering experience rather than a terrifying one.

• From there things got better and better:

• Goodbye demon’s from Bertie’s birth.

• Hello quick recovery.

• Hello immediate bond.

• Hello oxytocin that kept me high for weeks.

• And, best of all, an ongoing belief that if I can breathe a baby out; I CAN DO ANYTHING.

• If only I could nip back in time and give the ‘old me’, the one having a panic attack after Bertie, a hug and some words of advice:

• “Everything is going to be ok, in fact everything is going to be better than ok. You have just started the best journey of your entire life”.

As you can probably tell I couldn’t recommend hypnobirthing more and in particular Hollies course. Here’s her website with all the info www.londonhypnobirthing.co.uk