Slowly, but surely my contractions moved closer and closer together. I stayed in touch with the midwives at the hospital and when the surges were coming every 2-3 minutes we were told to make our way in to get checked out. I was still very calm at this point, as I had been my entire labour so far minus my 'freak out' when everything first started. I think I was kind of in denial that anything was happening. Some of the contractions were quite intense, but none were so painful I couldn't handle it and I began to question myself and my body.
At 10.30pm we hopped in the car to make the 20 minute drive to the hospital. It was so windy, I remember thinking that we would be blown off the road. The trip seemed to quieten my contractions, although I was very uncomfortable.
As soon as we arrived, I froze up. I didn't like this big, scary building. I didn't like the thought of delivering with doctors and midwives who had no real idea who I was. I didn't want to give birth. I think I actually felt myself stop dilating, so strong was my fear. Our booking in appointment at this hospital was actually scheduled for the following day (it was abundantly clear I wouldn't be needing it) so I really did have no idea what to expect from this place or my care providers.
We were taken through the Emergency Wing and shown to a stark and sterile delivery room. I was still on edge, I don't know why exactly, but I had such a strong feeling that things weren't going to go smoothly. Thank goodness for G and MIL, if they hadn't been there I don't know how I would have coped.
A midwife and student midwife soon came to talk to me. They informed me that they were having a very busy night, the wild weather was making lots of babies arrive apparently! The midwife performed an internal. I was 3cm. 3cm. After 19 hours of regular contractions that was all there was to show for it. I was of course completely disregarding the fact that Leo had been transverse so most of my labour would have been spent turning him and getting him into a good position.
Then came the second disappointment. The midwife was sure bubs was breech. I protested this saying I could feel him kicking my ribs as we spoke. She kept painfully poking and prodding my stomach, all while I was contracting. An ultrasound was ordered. I was so uncomfortable lying on my back and having the ultrasound technician (who was the creepiest man I have ever seen, I got very bad vibes from that guy) perform the scan. People were just walking in and out of my room by this point. No one introduced themselves or asked my name. They referred to me as "mummy", which although I am sure was meant to be comforting just really pissed me off!
Of course Leo wasn't breech, he was head down and in the perfect position. I disliked this midwife already. I then had an IV put in and was put on the bed for constant fetal monitoring to check on my contractions and Leo's heart rate. I had only been at the hospital for an hour or so at this point.
We waited and waited. G and MIL kept the mood light and their presence definitely made things easier. I'm a little hazy about things at this point. There was a lot a sitting around, a lot of dealing with less than caring hospital staff, a couple of internals and a lot of monitoring.
Neither Leo nor I were in any kind of distress, but not much was happening progress wise. I remember G having a snooze on the couch. I remember texting my dad a few times to update him on what was happening. I started to get very, very intense hip pain during this period and each contraction G had to apply counter pressure by digging his thumbs into my pelvis.
I was still barely progressing and getting quite disheartened. I was also not very active at this point as I was on fetal monitoring most of the time and found moving around while attached to all those machines challenging.
At 4am the decision was made to break my waters. I will never forget the look of shock on the midwife's face when in three huge gushes I had practically flooded the room. So much amniotic fluid it was crazy! I had some incredibly painful contractions just after and decided to hobble into the shower. In hindsight I wish I had stayed in the shower for a lot longer than I did, but pain and exhaustion took over and I was soon on my back, on the monitors once more. Not once during my labour did any one advise moving around to help aid my progress. They were starting to get fed up with me I could tell. They told me they wanted to give me something so I could rest. Pethidine was administered. At the time I had no idea what they were doing and was pretty frustrated as I had gone so far without any pain medication, but it did enable me to get a bit of rest.
Another internal was performed. Still only 3-4cm. Why was my body failing me? Why was I in this much pain with nothing happening?
A c section was mentioned. Further induction methods were mentioned. No explanation was offered for my failure to progress except "He is a big baby", no practical advise was given. At some point during this time there was a change of shifts, difficult, "bitchy" midwife was gone and replaced.
I continued contracting and contracting. They were practically on top of one another now and the pain in my hip was agonising. At around 8am the decision was made to start syntocin and administer an epidural. This was not what I had wanted. This was not a choice. They told me that they no longer had time to watch me labour slowly so it was this or an emergency caesarian.
Getting the epidural was probably the most painful part of my labour. I remember it as the only time I swore and was particularly vocal. By now I was aching all over from the contractions and having been confined to the bed for so long, the surges were coming thick and fast and every movement hurt. It was difficult to keep still and sit upright so G and MIL took turns supporting me while the anesthetist did his thing (he was actually very lovely from what I recall).
What I now recognise, and what my doctor and midwife should have, is that I was already exhibiting the signs of 'transition', meaning I was likely 6-7cm dilated, but no internal was performed due to the high number of unnecessary ones that had been done earlier in labour and the risk of infection.
Not long after this my father, brother and G's father arrived. They kept us company for awhile, gave their support and then went to go and wait. I rested and G and MIL joked around. No one was expecting any progress, we were all sure that a c section was coming. To be honest, by this point I had had enough. I had been talked down to be hospital staff, handled roughly with lots of internals, gone through well over 24 hours of regular contractions, I think I would have leaped at the chance to have this baby out.
10am rolled around. I was 10cm. I had gone from an estimated 3cm to 10cm in approximately an hour. The midwives were stunned. My epidural was still turned up very high (I'm fairly sure this was done as they had been so sure I would be heading into surgery) so I could not feel a single contraction. No pressure. No urge to push. Only the aching in my hip lingered.
I don't recall how many hospital personnel came and went during my pushing stage of labour, at one point it felt like there was about ten people in the room, all of them yelling at me to push. There is nothing worse than being exhausted, lying with your legs in the air and having strangers constantly walking in and out of what is meant to be your private birthing suite. They say all sense of modesty goes out the window when you are at this stage in your labour, but I hated it. I really wanted it to be an intimate time, but there was going to be all these strangers witnessing the birth of my son. MIL asked me if I wanted her to leave (she was there taking lots of photos and being much more helpful then any of the 'care' providers) and I told her she better not leave me now. G and MIL were so fantastic, trying to help me push, but after nearly 2 hours of being told what to do and how to do it I still had no feeling whatsoever and was sure I was failing miserably.
A doctor came in and despite Leo being crowning and my
epi finally low enough for me to feel how to push properly she decided that a low
forceps delivery was the only option. For Leo's birth as well as myself, G
and MIL present there was also 3 midwives, the doctor delivering him, a 2nd doctor and the steady stream of random people walking in and out of the room. Beyond caring all I
could say was "No I don't want to see his head!" when the midwives
rushed to find me a mirror, it took G yelling at them before they realised I
was serious. I told the doctor I did not want an episiotomy, I'd rather tear, but
she performed one anyway. I reached down and caught Leo (after his head was out
he literally fell out of me) and put him on my chest. The best moment of my
life. He was 7lbs 1oz/3.24kg (so over 3lbs smaller than estimated), 50cms with a
36.5cm head and born at 12.04pm on the 21st of June 2011. He was perfect except
the ugly forceps marks, not that I noticed until well after his birth :)
After I was stitched up, G had cut the cord and Leo had been weighed/measured etc, MIL took a few more photos then left to give us some space and allow me to breastfeed (which I loved from the second he latched on).
We had a lot of visitors that first day (especially once I was moved from delivery into a room), truthfully we had way too many visitors. It's one of the main things I will be doing very differently this time around. After such a long, exhausting labour it was hard having to deal with having photos taken, multiple congratulations etc. Leopold was having a little trouble regulating his temp so was under a heat lamp for a lot of this time and I was actually quite glad that he couldn't be passed around the room and held by everyone as it was very overwhelming. My labour was nothing like what I wanted or what it should have been. The aftermath was just as bad when my catheter was left in for over 24 hours (as the midwives didn't want to have to help me to and from the toilet) so I ended up with a bad UTI and G was kicked out of the hospital at 9pm that night as was 'hospital policy' (a policy we had never been told about). So he missed his son's first night and I had to do it all by myself, still mostly confined to a bed and in pain. We were transferred to our local hospital the following day at our request. Not before a "helpful" midwife had forced Leo's head onto my breast during some skin to skin cuddles, causing him to pull away and creating some, thankfully only temporary, breastfeeding issues. I will never set foot in that hospital again. They treated me like a piece of meat, not a birthing woman and never cared once about what I wanted or needed. I still struggle hearing about positive birthing experiences as they make me feel disappointed in myself that I wasn't able to achieve the same sense of satisfaction and happiness.
I would go through everything a million times over to get my son, he is the love of my life and I don't regret him for a second. But I know I can achieve a 'better birth'. I know I can come away from birth with a sense of pride. And I know I can overcome my PTSD, in time.
Birth is always an unknown, but educating myself, educating my partner, teaching myself to have faith and picking my care providers wisely has already made me feel so much more positive about what is ahead of us. I cannot wait to share my second birth story with you all and hope that my experience has shown that just because the mother and baby are fine physically does not mean that the way you deliver and the feelings you come away with afterwards aren't just as crucial for your overall health.
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| Labouring |
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| Finally here! |
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| First feed |
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| Just after... |
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| ...and then a couple of hours later |
