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awwww she's cute
this one didnt!
Just got round to finishing my epic birth story for those who are interested! You may want to skip it if you have any kind of fears about giving birth
So, my waters broke as I was getting out of bed to pee at 3.30am on the Wednesday, the day before my due date. Rang the hospital and they said to come in and they’d confirm that it was actually my waters breaking, not me peeing myself (happens a lot, apparently) and examine me. So off we trotted, where the midwife said yes, definitely waters, but as they were clear, and I had no other labour signs at that point, I should go home and wait for it all to kick off. If nothing did, I’d have to go back after 36 hours and be induced because of the risk of infection to the baby.
Got home about 5am and started getting mild contractions very soon after, which got gradually stronger through the day. By 9.30pm they were coming every 4-5 mins, knocking me off my feet, and lasting a good minute and a half, so rang the hospital. They told me cause it was my first, it might take a while, so I should stay at home until I felt like I couldn't cope any more. By 3am they were coming every 2 mins and I was really struggling, so rang them back, and we went in, thinking THIS IS IT, OMG, BABY TIME! Until I was examined, and the midwife told me I was only 1cm dilated! ONE CENTIMETRE. So not classed as actually being in active labour (4cm +), so not able to be admitted.
So they sent me home attached to a TENS machine and with bumper supplies of codeine, where the contractions actually slowed back down to one every 5 minutes or less. This was early Thursday morning, and I spent much of the day contracting on my sofa. Bad times.
At 3.30pm, when nothing had really changed, I went back to the hospital to be induced. They examined me, and after a day and a half of pretty strong contractions, I was now 2cm dilated. Highly unimpressed. Although my cervix was ‘favourable’ (um, yay?), so I could just go straight to the drip part of the induction. They hooked me up to the monitor to check on the wee one, and noticed that her heartbeat dropped a couple of times mid-contraction. The doctor came in and said that they’d keep me on the monitor, but they weren’t really that concerned, she probably was just compressing her cord in a weird place, and as long as it wasn’t every contraction, or her heartbeat didn’t recover in between, they’d crack on with the induction. So I got wheeled into a room, and prepped for the drip. This was about 4pm.
After a few more contractions (getting more and more irregular as time went on), her heartbeat started dropping every time. Doctor was called in again, but still said she was not too worried, as it recovered well in between, and apparently sometimes the drip can cure such issues. It was at that point, that I remember the words ‘I don’t want to worry you, but there is a chance we’ll end up doing a caesarian, so we’ll prep you just in case’. Sentences starting ‘I don’t want to worry you but..’ to a labouring woman (especially a labouring woman who is technically not even in labour yet!) tend not to go down too well. And as they started prepping me for surgery in between contractions, it was decided that, even though I was still not in active labour yet, they would allow me to have gas and air. Hooray! Some people say the gas and air does nothing. I can state for the record that when you have been in a fair amount of pain for going on 36 hours, gas and air is nothing short of a godsend.
So we start on the drip, while they shave me and get more drips in and take off my nail varnish. The drip regulates my contractions beautifully, and for the first 5 or so, seems to have cured the heartbeat problem. Brilliant! So the dose is ramped up, and they intensify. Then the heartbeat starts dropping again, but this time just after the contractions, which apparently is bad. So they haul me round onto my left side, which doesn’t help, then right side, which HURTS, but does help, turn the drip off and get the doctor back in. Off the drip, my contractions slow right down again. And we continue this dance for a few hours – on the drip, her heartbeat suffers. Back off it, and my body will not contract properly.
As it gets on towards 10pm, her heartbeat starts dropping between contractions, and at one point drops so low that the monitor doesn’t even record it. Before we know it, the room is full. Two doctors, a relatively scared-looking med student, the midwife who’s been with me the whole time, and another midwife. I’m a weeny bit off my rocker on the gas, but everyone looks a bit worried, and there starts to be a flurry of activity. The doctor I haven’t seen before introduces herself, and says that they want to try and get a blood sample from my baby’s scalp to see how she’s coping with these contractions. So I’m whisked up into the stirrups, still puffing along on my gas. She examines me quickly (now 3cm – wowsers!) and then tries 4 times to get the blood sample. It doesn’t work. While she’s trying, the heartbeat bottoms out. We can’t wait, she says, we need to get to theatre NOW.
So it all turns a bit Grey’s Anatomy with people running down corridors and what have you, and while I’m pretty sure no one shouts ‘Stat!”, it’s that kind of effect. I down some kind of foul-tasting liquid, and get hauled round to get my spinal. Mid contraction, I wince, and the midwife holds me down, and says if they can’t get this done, and fast, they’ll have to put me to sleep. It takes 3 attempts (apparently I have a tough spine – who knew?), but they finally get it in, and I start to go numb. I vaguely remember saying ‘This is the best thing that’s happened to me all day’, before I’m arranged on the table and hooked up to the monitors. Then there’s more drama, cause my heartbeat is through the roof. The anaesthetist gets me to blow into something a few times, then she massages something on my neck, then she asks me in a slightly concerned voice if I’ve got any heart problems. Also not high on the list of things you want to hear in labour!
Anyway, after what seems like an age, they finally let Paul in, looking all bewildered in his scrubs, and sit him down next to me, while I start to get the shakes. The anaesthetist is still talking to me when we hear the doctor say something about the baby, and then we hear her start to squeal. They show her to us for the briefest of times before whisking her away – I can only see her leg and part of her belly, but I can hear her crying, and then Paul is crying, and I’m still just shaking. She’s ok, the midwife shouts over. She’s just fine. They just need to do a few tests on her.
So they get me all sewn up, and bring her back in, and Paul holds her cause I’m shaking too much, and she just stares at him, all confused and covered in bits of womb, but here. And ok. And then I cry. And then everything is fine.
I spend a few hours in an intensive care, setting off all manner of alarms with my pulse, get poked and prodded a bit more, but finally get to hold my baby. I feed her and she sleeps on me. And as I’m still wired to almost every machine in the place, someone says to me, ‘So, will you have another?’ and I say, ‘Yeah, probably.’
that could be in an episode of casualty or something!!!!
you were very brave and strong to get through all that. well done you!
that is so you
congratulations again, hope you are getting as much rest as you can
The birth experience was pretty brutal, but tbh I'd do it again if I had to. Hopefully we wouldn't have a repeat performance, though!
Big Hugs
xx
You're joking! They had me out of bed after 11 hours
Other than the painkillers and driving ban it's business as usual now!
I've been deliberately avoiding all birthing stories but couldn't help glancing at yours and eventually just read the whole thing.
Good to hear things are going well for both you and baby
Don't let it worry you! I'm told that my experience is relatively rare, and was complicated further by the fact that she was so small, in a terrible position and my waters broke in advance, which doesn't normally happen.
Plus it's true what they say about you forgetting the extent of how traumatic it was as soon as they plop your newborn down in your arms. I'm already saying 'it wasn't THAT bad, though was it?', and Mr K looks at me with this face ---> :eek2:
If nothing else, it shut him up from his 'man up - in the old days women used to go out in the fields and do this by themselves under a bush' stance, cause in the old days both me and the wee one would have died. Thanks to the miracles of modern medicine, we are both sound as a pound
Go on then