It was Friday morning, and I had my "final" midwife appointment at the hospital. I was already 4 days overdue - and more than that, I was about to explode. I was hobbling around with ligament agony and so much fluid I could have filled an olympic swimming pool. The skin on my hands and feet was about to burst like the skin on a sausage. That aside, I was hoping for a miracle from my midwife. We sat and discussed options etc, and booked in an appointment for induction - just in case. Then she made a suggestion, which ultimately, changed my world!
She performed what is called in laymans a "strip and stretch" or a membrane sweep. This is a killer, quite painful and intrusive - but having said that, the midwife was lovely and I don't think there was a gentle way to do what she had to do...
That day, I started cramping mildly. Very mildly. I figured this was just a mechanism of my body trying to get my hopes up again, so I refused to get excited.
Lucky... Nothing happened.
I woke up on Saturday feeling frustrated that I was still at home in my bed and not on a hospital stretcher. Mum and I decided at that point to head to the shops. We've got a pretty massive mall only about 10 minutes away, so we set off for a day of walking - in the hopes that SOMETHING would get this baby moving. By that afternoon, say 3ish, I was so exhausted and sore that I actually forgot I was waiting to go into labour. This was a great distraction for me. Finally, I wasn't thinking about birth and the absence of labour pains.
We decided to chill out and watch a movie for the early evening before cooking dinner. It was then that I visited the loo......
What excitement when I discovered a very large, very stretchy glob. IT WAS MY PLUG!!!!! WOOOOHOOOOO! Something was indeed happening. I won't lie, I thought I was going to miraculously go into labour that very minute. Turns out, of course, that I didn't. I wasn't that disappointed. I felt happy enough that one of the many stages prior to labour was happening. I was dilating a little, if only enough to set free my plug. (This is called a show, in case you were wondering.) We had a meat and vege dinner, pain free, and headed to bed at around 10.30pm.
I looked at the clock on my phone when I woke up and it said 1.20am. I couldn't figure out what had woken me up, if it had been a contraction or not, so I just figured I would pee and settle back in for 6 or 7 more hours of sleep.
Oh no you don't!!
At 1.28 I got my second contraction. It was a definite contraction. No mistaking those puppies...
I stayed in bed, thinking about whether I would get up and pace and do the whole cliche running around screaming and waking everyone up saying "This is it!! It's happening!!!". I didn't do that. I hung out for a bit and decided to time it. The next one came within 5 minutes.
8 minutes......... 5 minutes.......... 4 minutes................ I better get up...........
By 1.40am I was getting a contraction every 3-4 minutes. I got up and crept down the stairs, trying to not wake my mum. Of course, she was sleeping with one eye open and noticed the second I came out of my room. She followed me downstairs and helped me time them. I heated up a wheat pack and placed it on my back. I was sitting on the gym ball rocking my hips and breathing. I was shocked at how fast they were coming, and how unmistakable they were! All those times I'd thought "is this a contraction? Or just a Braxton Hicks?" - I felt sooo stupid. There was NO question that these were the real deal. Like they say, if you have to ask, the answer is NO. It's not.
I think it was around 2am when I decided it was time to head to the hospital. I was in considerable pain - and I wasn't sure how long I would labour for before the critical pushing time began. So playing it safe, we headed in.
This is where it all blurs for me. I remember walking into the emergency room, stopping to have contractions here and there, and feeling very important being shoved to the front of the emergency line... (hehe)
They put me in a wheelchair and took me up to level 5. There I waited. And waited. And waited to be examined by a midwife. They didn't have an available room for me, so I sat in the waiting room with mum labouring away. Eventually, by 3am I was taken to an examination room and the nurse checked on my progress.
4cm. NOT happy. I was 2-3cm when I left the nurses office on the Friday morning. This was gonna hurt.
Soon after that I was given a birth suite to hang out in. I thought to myself - I'm going to be in here until my son is born. That was a surreal thought.
I couldn't decide whether I was hot or cold. I was changed into a nightie, and kept changing my mind about the slippers and dressing gown... "I'm cold, put them on... no no no I'm too hot for these.." "Can you check the temperature on the air con - it's freezing - tooooooo hoooooottttttt!!!" (haha) Thank goodness my mum was there.
I started out on the ball, sucking on gas... but wasn't comfy. The pain had intensified to a point where I just couldn't take it. I think it was probably about 5 or 6am when I got my first round of morphine. That was blissful. I laid on my side, strapped to fetal heart monitors etc sucking gas, high on morphine, sipping cordial and water. Roland was great through this process - he did exactly what mum told him to do. I almost slept through this part. I was doped up. It was great!
Didn't last long though. My contractions were heating up again, coming harder and faster than ever.
It was about 9am when I got my next examination.
5cm. Eli was slightly posterior, and his heart rate was still scarily high. (It had been slightly high for the entire time)
Oh god.... kill me now. The morphine was wearing off.
My waters had still not broken either. I was ticked.
I think shortly after that point - say at 10am - my waters were broken by the midwife - Cath. The pain changed immediately. It intensified even more. At this point my contractions had been lasting 90seconds and coming every 2 minutes. This was agonising.
I began petitioning for more morphine. Cath told me she wanted me to get into the shower (I didn't want to move) so I couldn't have more morphine. I was still able to suck on my gas though. Precious precious gas. So off I went. Onto the ball and under the hot water. I LOVED this.... I really got into the zone. When a labouring woman is in the zone - there is not a thing you can do to get her out of it. I was deeply inward, not thinking, not trying to forget the pain, just right in the middle of it. It's probably the most difficult part to explain. But the zone is spiritual, and I really enjoyed that part.
For some reason that I can't recall, I was removed from the shower and put back onto the bed. It was at a point somewhere around here - I think it was about 12-12.30 - that I suggested that I needed to push. I felt like I needed to poo - and that urge was not going away. I was lifting myself off the bed, panting, trying to stop that "poo". I screeched for a vomit bag, threw up and then promptly decided I was not going to continue this process - it was just too hard!
After a lot of convincing, Cath did an internal exam, and lo and behold, I was fully dilated and Eli was coming fast! I cannot tell you how excited that made me!
I was repositioned and was told to push if I felt ready. So I did....
This stage was a mixture of terror and relief. I knew it would all be over very soon, but I was so scared at the thought of getting this baby out of me. I could feel the slow movement of Eli down the birth canal. I can't remember feeling any real pain, just the discomfort of the "pooing" sensation and my legs starting to cave in underneath me. The position I was in was not comfortable to me, and in hindsight, I should have insisted on being repositioned. Cath was very firm, and didn't let me move - which I do regret - but you live and you learn, and next time, I will not be forced to give birth in a position that isn't comfortable to me.
I felt Eli crown. I tried to feel his head with my hand, but for some reason, couldn't get to it... maybe it was my huge tummy.... still so large even without a baby in it.
I pushed, and pushed, and finally, out he came - blue and bloody. I was so incredibly relieved - the pain was immediately over, the job was done, and I could rest. I flaked out on the bed while they assisted me to deliver the placenta.
Eli had low apgars, so they stuck him in the humidicrib. He had had a true knot in his cord, and it was wrapped around his neck. Luckily for him - and us - it was a really long cord. That saved his little life.
I tore badly during his delivery - possibly due to mismanagement of labour. I have regrets about my labour, but mostly, all I can say is I've done the worst kind, the next one will be a breeze. And it is true that you forget VERY quickly how painful it all is, and the thought that you are NEVER having another child disappears with every grin, gurgle and cuddle that you get from your little bundle.
He is now 12 weeks old - and I can't believe it! I am so in love with him. He is amazing - I would do it again in a heartbeat, if it meant that I'd have him. Which means that I will do it again, so I can have his little sister....... Stay tuned!!! haha
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