It is my beautiful daughter's thirteenth birthday today, and this always leads me to reflect on her birth: so I thought, why not share it here?
Thirteen years ago, I was a newly married 18 year old mother of a toddler, pregnant with my second child. My first child's birth was highly interventionist (due in part to my own lack of knowledge) and this time I wanted things to be different. So, I had booked with an independent midwife to dliver at the same hospital as last time. I had written a birth plan, which basically said "leave me alone, my midwife knows what I want". I had talked with my midwfe in great depth about my desire to stay home as long as possible (more thoughts on this later!) and avoid an epidural at all costs.
My due date was the 4th of October, and that evening we had friends over for dinner. About halfway through dinner, I realised that the low throbbing pain in my lower back was not the flare up of an on again off again kidney infection that I had attributed it to, but was in fact, early labour. I decided that the best plan was to completely ignore it, as this had gone on for 48 hours with my first baby, and I didn't want to repeat the mistakes of the past. So I got on with my evening of socialising, and at around 11pm, when eveeryone left, I told my husband that I thought I might be having the baby in the next day or two. "But I have an assignment due" wailed my trainee teacher hubby. Now, I could start a rant here, about how he knew that the assignment was due around my due date for weeks, and had had plenty of time to do it, and his procrastination was really not my problem.... but I won't. I will just say that we spent the next two hours with him telling me what to type and me frantically typing to get his assignment finished.
1am rolled around, and assignment neatly typed, we headed to bed, to get some sleep. By now, the rushes were coming every five minutes or so, but were still pretty mild, and I felt it would still be a day or two. This gives an indication of how long my first labour had been, really doesn't it! We went to bed, and within ten minutes hubby's deep snores filled the air. I however, could not get comfortable for love nor money, and at 2am gave up and ran a bath, thinking that might relax me enough to get to sleep. I jumped out of the bath fifteen minutes later, convinced it had made me much more uncomfortable: In retrospect, I had probably got in just as I started active labour, and the difference was in the strength and length of the surges.
I couldn't sleep, but reasoned that it was still a long way off, and thought I should let hubby sleep. However, I did have a flatmate, asleep downstairs, and so I thought I would waken her so I had someone to talk to. Poor girl, she had never been around woman in labour, and she was terrified I would push it out on her bedroom floor (ironically, a few years later, this same woman delivered her second child on her living room floor with a midwife who had arrived as the head crowned to assess her "early labour" so I guess she got over it!). The next hour or so consisted of me getting more and more vocal, while my flatmate begged me more and more often to call my midwife, and I said "No, I need her fresh later, when I am in proper labour" over and over. Finally, at about 300am, I gave in and rang my midwife, apologised for waking her and told her things were just starting to happen.
I magine my surprise when she said, "erm, I think we should meet at the hospital".
"No, it is really early" said I. "I don't want to get there till I am at least five cms"
"well, listening to you, I think you already are. You do realise these surges are two minutes apart and ninety seconds long, don't you?"
Well, I hadn't even looked at a clock, so no, i didn't know that. Also, I really expected this to get much worse, and therefore, I was pretty sure I was not even three cm's yet. So I continued to argue with her. And she said, "How long is it going to take you to get organised and to the hospital?" and I said "an hour, at least". "See you there in an hour" she replied.
So I slowly started organising my baby sitter (which turned into quite a drama: the girl supposed to do it could not be contacted- pre cell phones, here, and so I had to get my cousin to come, but my cousin had a broken leg, so she had to get her husband up to bring her, and then his car wouldn't start so a third friend was drafted to drive them over. Later, it turned out that the original sitter was IN MY COUSINS HOUSE! shagging her ex, which she did't want anyone to know, so couldn't admit she was there!) and putting bags by the door. Finally at 415am, I woke my husband and off we set.
At the hospital, I was met by my midwife, Chris, two girlfriends who were to be support people, and three other friends who wanted to stay in the waiting room. All the babysitting dramas for my older child meant that everyone knew I was in labour, and I did feel a bit overwhelmed by how much my friends wanted to be there for me.
At 5am, I was examined. I was fully expecting to be told I was less than 3cm's and be packed off back home. But no, I was in for a surprise: I was seven cm's!
Off the bed, and into the shower for a couple of hours I went. That was great, actually, really relaxing. At 0645, I moved back into the bedroom, and we had a wierd discussion about what was playing on the radio for awhile. Then one of my good friends from the waiting room came down and called through the door to see what was happening. Biggest mistake of his life. I told him I was decent and to come on in. He did. I grabbed his hand as transition hit, and the poor bugger ended up as my fourth labour support person! I begged my midwife to check to see if i could push yet: NOpe, still 7cm's. so I asked her to break my waters... well, no, I screamed at her to break them, now.
So she did. And I continued to speed through transition, clinging for dear life to the hands of my hubby on one side, and my dear friend on the other. Hubby suggested I let my friend leave at one point, and I told him to "F#@* himself". Another quick check from the midwife and I was pushing, turning on to my knees leaning against the back of the bed. And at 720am, Erika Jaine was born, over an intact perineum, weighing 7lb3oz, 56cms long. Just like that, I had done it, with no pain relief other than some gas in transition, and my beautiful girl was here. Well, I say beautiful. As one of my birth partners nicely pointed out "You gave birth to ET!" with long spider fingers and big black eyes, and a quite IUGR appearance, she wasn't that pretty at first! But, she is beautiful now, and all grown up. And after she was born, the midwife said to me, "next time, you should have a home birth". And seven years later, I did. And ten years later I started my midwifery training. So the birth of my daughter, was also the birth of my calling to this wierd and crazy world I now inhabit... Something else to thank the Goddess for!
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