Woot woot!

The unedited first draft of my birth story. I hope to edit it and change the format and add photos when I get the chance:

On the 15^th of November, I gave birth. I did it! I actually pushed a baby out of my vagina! I know women do that every day. But not me.  I have two older children. When talking about the day they entered the world, I use the word delivered. I don’t feel like I birthed them. They were delivered in a room that was too bright, by gloved hands. They were taken from a surgical cut in my uterus and dangled above a lowered screen for me to see before being taken away, rubbed off all their birthy goodness, wrapped and returned to me to hold awkwardly.

My oldest daughter was breech. Either she flipped late, or they just kept missing it. I didn’t feel her flip but who knows. I went for an appointment at 39 weeks and 5 days. They had me back in the morning for surgery. I wish I knew then what I know now: That babies can turn head down at any point, chiropractic can help, breech is a variation of normal, and spontaneous labour before a c-section is better than an “elective c-section” without labouring.

My middle child was supposed to be my VBAC baby. Again, I wish I was more educated then. Looking back, I can see each time I made a mistake and how it bought me that step closer to the knife. I fell into the trap of the hospital system again and although I swore I’d fight them, when push came to shove, I was vulnerable and I gave in. I will write his full birth story one day.

When I came home from the hospital after my second section, I researched and researched. How could I do things differently? I emailed several midwives; would they support HBA2C? Not a single one emailed me back. Sure, I’d only just had my second section so I had heaps of time, but I was looking for someone to give me just a little bit of hope.

Time passed and I buried my feelings and got on with being a mother of two. I desperately wanted to be pregnant again, and yearned for another go at birth, but I was not ready for another baby. I felt so confused by that. What if I was never ready for another baby? Would I have one just to get the birth I wanted? What if I had another baby, but ended up with another c-section? So many questions that I struggled to answer.

About 15 months after my second surgery, a friend had her baby in the same hospital I was at. She had no problems. Induced labour, no pain relief, pushed her baby out without any problems. What the heck was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I do that? Again, I started researching and emailing midwives. Hubby could see how much I was hurting and assured me I could have our next baby at home and that I would do it. He was ready to start trying. I wasn’t.

Again, so many of my emails went unanswered. The ones that did get a reply all contained a variation of the same message: “please call to make an appointment”.

One night, I walked up to hubby, grinning from ear to ear. I’d finally gotten the reply I was after: “happy to support HBA2C”. There was a lot of information attached.

A few months later, I finally felt ready for another baby. 1 month later, I was pregnant.

I made an appointment with an obstetrician who has a reputation for being pro vaginal birth. I came away in tears. Uterine rupture, maternal death, fetal death. We discussed it all. He was willing to support me, but would not recommend a home birth given my twice scarred uterus. The stats for rupture risk were much higher than what I’d researched myself.

I still proceeded to make an appointment with the midwife who’d emailed me back. By this stage, hubby was very unsure. He was scared of something going wrong. I asked him to meet with the midwife, and if he still wasn’t comfortable after that, we would look at some other options.

The midwife came and we discussed everything that could go wrong and how it would be managed. A week later, we agreed that home birth was for us.

The pregnancy passed fairly uneventfully. We had a scan at 12 weeks to make sure there was only one baby as I was measuring about 4 weeks ahead. My 20 week scan showed a low lying placenta but a re-scan at 35 weeks showed it had moved up more than enough.

I loved every minute of being pregnant, despite my first experience with SPD (symphasis pubis dysfunction). I went to the chiropractor regularly and did what I could to prepare for the birth.

My midwife was very passionate about optimal fetal positioning. Towards the end of my pregnancy, bubs decided that being posterior was most comfortable. An adjustment at the chiro would help for a day before bubs turned back.

Braxton hicks started early this time around. Somewhere around 15 weeks. From about 35 weeks, they were accompanied with mild period pain. I was terrified I’d go into premature labour and would lose my homebirth. I made it to 37 weeks, just one more week and I’d have the birth pool I’d hired. Every day, the Braxton hicks became more and more intense. I refused to pay too much attention to them because I knew that pre-labour could come and go. One of my mistakes with my failed VBAC was paying too much attention to pre/early labour and getting too excited too quickly.

I loved every minute of anticipation, wondering if the contraction I’d just had was the start of something more. In a way, I didn’t want to go into labour because then that anticipation would be over.

At 39 weeks, 5 days, the contractions started to feel different. I still didn’t think much of it. Hubby stayed away for work that night and although I was sure it would still be a while off, I reminded him to keep his phone nearby. I woke a few times to contractions overnight but nothing more.

The following day, the contractions were even more intense. I had a midwife appointment that afternoon and a busy morning. I had to breathe through contractions, but they were not regular. I might have them 10 minutes apart for half an hour, then nothing for an hour. Hubby decided to stay away for work another night to get some more hours in.

When the midwife declared that bubs was anterior again I was so relieved. I’d being doing everything I could to encourage a good position but up til then, posterior was definitely the favourite. The midwife didn’t feel that the contractions I’d been having were anything to get too excited about. She actually gave me a little speech about what to do during pre-labour. When I mentioned that I understood what I was experiencing could go on for days or weeks yet, her reply was “I don’t think this is prelabour”. But almost as soon as she left, the contractions picked up intensity again. Still not regular but I now found myself getting on all fours to get through some of them. Still, the knowledge that this could go on for days had me not paying too much attention to them.

At 7:00pm, I decided to trial the TENS machine just in case things heated up. I wanted to have a bit of practice using it before I really needed it. Shortly after putting it on, the contractions got somewhat more intense. I was still convinced it would be at least a few more days before I actually went into labour. Although the contractions were intense, they were still so inconsistent and usually far apart.

The TENS did help a bit through some of the contractions but they were still bearable anyway. At 9:30, I called hubby to say goodnight after sending him a screen shot of some contractions I’d timed; still fairly short and irregular.

At 10:30pm, after an hour’s sleep, I woke to a very strong contraction. It took my breath away and I struggled through it, unable to focus after being caught completely by surprise. I rolled around on the bed, almost like I was trying to roll away from the pain. I think I fell asleep again straight after and another strong one woke me. I decided to wait for one more, then call hubby. Another came, I put the TENS back on and called hubby. I was still in denial. It could still be ages away, I told him, but I needed him now. He was just having some dinner so told me he’d be home in just over an hour.

I breathed through a few more contractions, now anywhere from 5 to 10 minutes apart. I messaged my photographer/doula (Amy) to see if she was still awake and she agreed to head over around midnight, the same time hubby was due home. I was still in denial and was sure she was coming too early.

Hubby was delayed so Amy arrived about 20 minutes before him. She took one look at me and asked if I’d called Helen, my midwife. I wasn’t sure the contractions were close enough or long enough. I looked at my phone which I’d been using the time the contractions. I was surprised to see they were already 2 minutes apart and had become regular. I’d been watching my phone as I timed the contractions because I liked seeing how long they were. I knew when I saw 45 on the screen that the contraction was nearly over. But I hadn’t looked at the bigger picture that told me how long they were or how far apart.  

Amy called Helen who  listened through a few contractions and asked if I wanted her to come yet. I didn’t want her to get here too early. We decided that I should try the shower and that would either help things speed up or slow down. I got off the phone and despite agreeing to the shower plan, I didn’t want to get in the shower. Being upright made the contractions come on top of each other. Shorter, but much more frequently. I stayed on the couch, making sure I was on my left, still aware of optimal fetal positioning.

Amy helped me through a few more contractions before hubby showed up. Shortly after, I threw up. Hubby rang Helen again and she agreed to head over. She still wasn’t convinced I was in active labour. Again, she wanted me in the shower, but I couldn’t. I wanted to be in the pool.

Amy and hubby started filling the pool. The hot water ran out when it was about half way full but I wasn’t waiting. I got straight in. The warm water felt amazing, but I struggled with the shallow water level.

Hubby headed out to his Mum’s to get an extra kettle and an urn. While he was gone, our daughter woke up and came into the room. We’d spoken about her being there for the birth and decided to play it by ear. I really wanted her there if she was coping with it all, but hubby was unsure. Turns out we didn’t have to worry about a thing. She coped really well with everything she saw and was a great help. We cuddled through a few contractions and she gave me sips of water when they were over.

Helen arrived while I was still in the shallow pool. I noticed that she came in with all her equipment. Seeing that helped as it told me she believed bubs was definitely on the way.

 She asked me to hop out so she could check bub’s position. Every time I decided to move I had to gear myself up; “just one more contraction, then I’ll get out”, but then the contraction would be over and I’d relax and miss my chance. I wanted to get up as soon as I could after a contraction because I was scared of being caught in the middle of one in some horrible position like half in the pool.

I got out of the pool and took a quick trip to the toilet. The contractions on the toilet were the worst. Again, my movements made me feel like I was trying to move away from the pain.

I finally got back to the loungeroom and on the couch. Helen checked bub’s position and had a quick listen to the heart rate. Bubs was happy.

I stayed on the couch for a while. At some point, I entered the “twilight zone”. That strange time when you have no concept of time at all. Through each contraction, I would roll on to my side and grab the handle of the pool which was just in front of me. In between contractions I’d flop onto my back and doze.

The contractions were intense. At one stage, I remember chanting through one, saying “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t” over and over.  Helen said “you can” and I replied, “No! I am, I am, Iam”.

I started to shake and although I didn’t realise it at the time, I was started to bear down slightly at the end of each contraction. I didn’t think of it as bearing down. All I knew is that doing whatever I was doing made the contractions less intense. I started to feel a new sort of pain with the contractions. The baby was moving and it hurt. I didn’t realise that it was moving down. All I knew is that I was focused on my breathing and working through a contraction then I’d feel this extra pain that would completely blow my concentration. I started crying out “it hurts, it hurts”. I think Helen was a bit concerned by how pain I seemed to be in but I reassured her it was just when the baby was moving. She kept telling me it was normal. I guess she has to do a lot of reassuring especially with VBAC women, but I had to concerns about anything I felt. I knew my body would do what it needed and never once worried about anything going wrong. When Helen told me again that it was all normal, I remember replying “I know it’s normal! It just freakin’ hurts!!”

Eventually the pool was full but I was so in the zone I didn’t want to get up.

Finally, they urged me to get back in the pool so after another trip to the toilet complete with shaking and me asking the midwife if I was in transition (to which she replied, “your body is just working really hard”), I hopped in. The warm water was perfect.

The contractions were still just as intense. From reading water birth stories, I kind of expected the water to take the pain away. It didn’t, but being in the water meant I could move so much better through them. I was on my hands and knees rocking backward and forward.

I was in the pool a very short time before I got the urge to push. The contractions that came with the urge were such a relief, they no longer hurt. I came out of the twilight zone. I talked in between contractions. I remember telling my husband that I wanted to go to sleep and that I’d get back to having our baby after I’d had a nap.  

The urge to push was bizarre. It’s like nothing I can describe. I’d read birth stories where women never felt the urge to push and others where they never really pushed and baby just came out with little effort. When I got the urge to push there was no stopping it. The noises that came out of me where primal and I surprised myself with how loud they were. It wasn’t just that I was going with the flow and doing what I felt I needed. I could not have done it differently if someone said I had to. In fact, I have vague recollections of the midwife telling me to go slow, but I wasn’t in control. Whatever was happening was happening from somewhere deep within. It was amazing and I attribute that to not trying to control it. My body knew what it was doing and I was just along for the ride.

I’m not sure how many contractions I pushed through. My birth notes say I pushed for about 40 minutes. It felt like no more than 10.

After one of the pushes, I felt something come out but it certainly didn’t feel like a head. It was my bag of water, still intact. Amy took a photo and showed me. Pretty amazing to see.  I vaguely remember Helen calling the secondary midwife and the new graduate who was following my pregnancy and letting them know it was time to head over.

A few more (who knows how many), contractions later and I could feel the head starting to crown. Another and there was that ring of fire. Holy moly that hurt. I practically screamed “SHIT!” Then realised my daughter was standing right there and unsuccessfully tried to censor myself by trying to turn it into “shivers!”. This resulted in me saying “SHIT-vers” and giggles all around the room.  I could tell I was going to tear, but I had expected any pain/burning/tearing to be of my perineum. Instead, my perineum remained intact and didn’t even hurt. I felt a pop which ended up being two labial tears. As much as that pop hurt, it was a very short, sharp pain and after that, there was no more ring of fire. Out came the head and while everyone else “oohed and aahed” I waited patiently for the next contraction. No way was I waiting any longer than that. One more contraction and another huge roar from somewhere deep inside that I didn’t know existed and at 4:30am, out slid a baby! I knew hubby wanted to catch him and bring him to me but the position I was in didn’t make that easy. Hubby keeps telling everyone I snatched him, but really, I kind of came to when the midwife told me to bring him forward and I remembered that I actually had to lift him up, not just squeeze him out. So I grabbed him quickly and bought him up to my chest. That moment is actually kind of blurry in my memory. I remember feeling relief, amazement, exhaustion. A whole range of things. I don’t remember saying “I could do that again”, but apparently I did.

The secondary and new grad midwives both turned up just before bubs was born.

Bubs was a bit slow to breath and the midwives had to use the mask in the end but everything was fine.

After a few minutes, we asked our daughter to have a look and tell us whether we had a boy or a girl. She was so excited to be the one to tell us we had a boy.

I thought she might be disappointed that she didn’t get a sister but there was no mention of it. I can’t describe how amazing it was having her there. I was so glad to be able to share something that huge with her, and so glad that she was able to witness normal birth first hand. She’s already shown us that she will have an amazing bond with her little brother.

We settled on the name Finley John and the little guy had his first feed in the pool while we waited for the placenta. 2 hours later there was still no sign of it. I agreed to try hopping out of the pool and on to the toilet. We tried pressure points and a few tricks to try and get me to urinate. Another half an hour and no placenta or wee and I agreed to a managed third stage. I’m disappointed I didn’t have a natural third stage and the midwives were happy to keep waiting but I was done.

Birthing the placenta was a bizarre sensation. I hadn’t expected it to feel so huge, especially considering I’d just pushed out a baby! But unlike the pushing when Finley was crowning, this time I was in control. There was no real urge to push so I had to really work hard.

Hubby cut the cord and the placenta was taken away for inspection, a placenta print and preparation for a smoothie. I regret not asking to have a good look at the placenta. At the time, it crossed my mind but I was too distracted by my new little squish. I know that Amy got some good pictures of it so I look forward to seeing them.

The midwives took Finley and weighed and measured him. Although I suspected I was having a big bub, I did not expect to hear that he was 9lb, 8oz! He just didn’t look that big to me, probably because he’s in perfect proportion with his 54 cm length and 37cm head circumference!

Looking back, it’s kind of amazing how it all panned out. I’d said all along that my perfect birth would involve pre-labour during the day that wasn’t quite enough to stop me from what I was doing, followed by established and active labour throughout the night with bubs arriving before I needed anyone to come and get the kids. I did not really want anyone knowing I was in labour because I didn’t want them bugging us for news. I’d also said I didn’t want a particularly short labour because I wanted the experience, but that 6 hours sounded nice. It was 10:30pm when the contractions woke me, and Finley arrived at 4:30am! I pretty much got everything I’d jokingly “planned”.