Our Birth Story: Where Everything Happened Differently Than Imagined
It occurred to me the other day that despite writing a mum blog, I never actually told you the story of Rosie's birth. So let's make that right. If you are a mum already, I hope this post will make you nod with familiarity at certain situations, and if you are a mum-to-be, hopefully, my experience will add to what you are looking ahead to.
The Original Plan
Whenever I thought about having a child in the past, I imagined being alone in the room, and allowing visitors only when the baby is born. I wanted to be ready for them; having a freshening shower, brushed hair, a beautiful white dress and neatly sitting on the bed in the morning, holding the baby when my family enters. Keeping my dignity was imperative to me, and I can honestly say after Rosie's arrival that not a single thing happened as I had wished.
Our baby was due on 26 December. I knew I wanted to try giving birth naturally, as I wanted to experience it and see if I could do it. I also wondered if all the stories I listened to all my life about the pain were true. I know I should be saying that I wanted to experience the beauty of natural birth, but that would be a lie. I kept telling myself that if it was too much to bear, I would ask for an epidural. This put me at ease about the whole thing. I also trusted the health service with my birth plan...
My whole family loves Christmas (well, who doesn't?) and we always prepare in great detail for the occasion. This time, however, I focused completely on the baby and nothing else. Surprisingly, I felt all right with that.
Eastbourne hospital - a disaster
So on that afternoon of December 23, Andy and I laid down to take a nap around 2.30pm as we were constantly told to sleep and rest as much as possible before the baby arrived. I really did not take this piece of advice seriously enough.
I felt a strange feeling, and I told Andy that we might need to go to the hospital. It felt as if my waters broke, but I wasn't sure. Well, my waters never broke before, so I wouldn't know...And it does not always happen the blatant way they portray it in the movies.
We grabbed everything and stormed into the hospital. The pain at this stage was still manageable. The midwife on duty seemed very nervous, and I realised she was slightly panicky when she showed me the test strip so that I could decide between two contractions whether the test was positive or not for waters breaking...It was positive, and she sent us home to have dinner and come back when the pain was stronger! (A note to mum-to-be-s: after your waters break, you shouldn't be sent home because the risk of infection for the baby is higher every minute. Something I did not know either at the time.) She was scared to death and hoped we would come back after her shift was over. (She apologised to us the next day.)
So Andy and I went home and continued with Mad Men, as we started watching the series a few weeks before. We were at home for about 30 minutes when the pain really started to kick in. We called a taxi and went outside. It was very cold, windy and rainy. The taxi, of course, did not arrive straight away. I remember vaguely leaning over a car, panting and shivering at the same time. Might have been some cursing, too.
Finally, the taxi arrived and when we got to the hospital, Andy put me in a wheelchair as I could stand no longer. From here on, everything was becoming more and more obscure. I remember that nobody took care of us at the maternity unit, as they were having a handover. We were waiting for a long time in an empty corridor before somebody came along. Andy was furious and after we saw the situation there, I asked to be sent to the Brighton hospital. I tried the bath though and they apparently put some music on, but there was no amount of piano sound, essential oil or magic crystals that could calm me down at this point. I got a pethidine injection, but I honestly felt no effect whatsoever by then.
Transferring to Brighton
I was wheeled into an ambulance car, and I remember hearing the siren now and then. All I could think of was Andy holding my hand as I was trying to cope with the pain. I kept saying to myself to hold on just a little longer, then I'll get an epidural when we get to Brighton, and everything will be fine. I was grabbing and trying to tear the sheet under me in pain.
This thought kept me alive for a little while, when I felt a strange urge to push. That's when I realized the baby was coming way too quickly. I told the midwife, who was also present, and she encouraged me to push. I just did not want to believe I would give birth in a racing ambulance car!
Apparently, we got to Brighton very quickly. I was taken to the maternity ward, then asked to climb a bed in one of the rooms. I kept panting and managed to squeeze out a word: "Epidural".. For a long time they kept me on the bed and told me to push. I did not understand what was happening and why the anaesthetic wouldn't come.
After a while, the midwife told us that there was an emergency on the ward and the person administering the epidural was assigned to that case. I kept waiting and waiting, but the injection did not seem to come. It felt like forever. I was starting to realise that this is it, no help is coming. And the midwife admitted it a little later, saying that it was already too late for an epidural. That was the end of my idea of ideal birth.
Yes, I was furious. But I couldn't do anything. Well, just to keep pushing. This is the part where they say in the movies: " Kids, don't try this at home!" Pun aside, it was no joke. Another thing you are never told: I honestly would never do it again. You can prepare all you want, but one thing is for sure: you get to a point where you feel you can no longer go on. Allegedly, the pain amounts to 28 bones breaking in your body simultaneously. For hours, again and again. Everyone gets to the breaking point. Some mums I talked to even said they thought of death. That they are finished.
And no, you don't forget it quickly.
I had no idea what was going on or how long it will all take. I was squeezing Andy's hand, grabbing the sheets again and listening to the midwife, who turned out to be quite good in the process. Which is very important. I felt lost whenever she just looked aside for a moment.
At one point, my parents were led into the room. As if there wasn't enough shocking circumstance already. Later they told me they were led to another corridor to wait, and luckily they found out they were waiting in the wrong place. They got hold of a slightly incompetent member of staff, who told them she knew where I was, and instead of seating them outside our room to wait, she led them straight into the room to me!!! They were confused, scared, and didn't know what just happened, so they quickly went outside and sat down to wait.
Rosie's Arrival
I had no sense of time or anything else; and sometime in the middle of th painful oblivion, the pain suddenly started to sharply reduce. The midwife asked Andy if he'd like to see Rosie's little head. There went the remainder of my dignity, after the panting, screaming and sweating I had demonstrated beforehand. Rosie was born so very quickly I could not believe it. Andy cut the cord, and they started preparing things for taking the cord blood. We agreed we'd do this for her in case she ever needs it. Apparently, the lady who took the cord blood carried the placenta on a plate in the corridor in front of everybody - if I had a shred of dignity left, that was the last of it...
Rosie was placed on my chest immediately after she came into the world. I was wearing a top, and they tucked her underneath, so that she would feel safe. This is the opening photo; she was less that half an hour old there. I had black clothes on, so there went the ideal image of hugging her in a beautiful white dress. And all taking place in the morning? It was nighttime. So that didn't go according to plan either...
I looked at Rosie's little face, and all I remember was that I did not imagine her to look the way she did. I have no idea how I imagined her and why this thought popped into my head at all but it did. She was perfect in every way. Huge eyes, looking scared into the world, and listening closely.
All of a sudden, I felt a sensation of paralysing fear spreading all over me about doing something, anything wrong that might not be good for her. Because I did not know what to do at all, how to look after such a fragile little thing.
I don't know how much time passed, it must have been about half an hour as I held her closely when I was told they would want to take Rosie to weigh her. I remember I was so happy they never took her out of the room and our sight! Have you ever feared your child being switched with someone else's? All those silly movies...her little face burned into my memory immediately. I would know my daughter from 1000 other babies!
I was kicked out of bed instantly to take a shower. I even had to walk on my own, and stand any way I could. Which wasn't really a lot of help. I could barely put one foot in front of another. I looked at the time, and it turned out it was only past 11pm, which means that from the time we called a taxi to Rosie's arrival less than 3.5 hours passed. That is extremely lucky, as an average first stage of labour for a first child is between 6-12 hours!
The Aftermath
I was fully dressed and sat on the bed in less than an hour after birth. My parents arrived soon, and they were pleasantly surprised that everything seemed as if nothing had happened. Rosie was sleeping in her cot, and Andy and I were chatting and waiting for the paperwork to arrive so that we would be released from the hospital.
I am quite proud of myself in this photo taken in less than an hour after Rosie's birth. Sitting on the bed in my vintage rose skirt, I was joyfully chatting with my family. From that point on, after surviving it all, I felt I could do anything. Women are amazingly strong!
It was the longest wait ever, lasting until daytime. Several nurses came in during the night to teach me how to feed Rosie. Finally, in the morning, the whole family got into the car and we drove back to our town into the hospital for breastfeeding support. Had they not showed me how to feed Rosie in Brighton, I wouldn't have known how to breastfeed at all. But they kept us in until 7pm when I adamantly said I am going home no matter what. It was Christmas, and we hadn't had any food from the day before. And nobody seemed to be bothered by the fact that we were there anyway!
Rosie slept through that first night, which was again extremely lucky, as we didn't get any sleep whatsoever in the following days. But that is a story for perhaps another time.
We were overjoyed to get home safe and sound with our daughter. As I laid down, I was facing her cot that was on my side of the bed, and despite extremely heavy tiredness, I kept opening my eyes to see if she was well. I still could not believe she was there, that we were parents, and I kept trying to think of myself as a mum. I felt I need to have my eyes on her every second to make sure she's all right. My heavy eyelids finally closed and I drifted to sleep happily. I felt the world was complete.
