It seems almost like a tradition that as soon as you announce you’re pregnant, everyone wants to tell you about their birthing horror stories. They never have anything good to say, its always about how painful it is, although when you ask how painful, they cant really give an answer. Is it possible that someone could talk about the positives? I had no illusions that birth wouldn’t be hard but surely it’s more refreshing to remember it as a time when you created this beautiful baby? Don’t get me wrong, my birth was far from perfect but I look back and remember the experience with a sense of pride and accomplishment. At the time I probably wouldn’t have and I told myself that I wouldn’t have another baby too but I cant wait to do it all over again.
Every birth is different and you get people who are lucky enough that their baby arrives quickly and they’re home within a couple of hours. Those are the ones people either hate or think they are lying about something. Surely it wasn’t that easy? I hoped and prayed that my nether region was like a bucket and the baby was just fall out. But no such luck. Then you get the people who have to deal with a life or death situation, or some form of trauma. I definitely fall into that category but i cherish the fact that I am lucky enough to have a healthy baby boy.
This is my story.
I woke up like I woke up every morning, to my usual 100th pregnancy pee. However, this time it was different. It’s not often you hear people say that their waters brake naturally so I wasn’t too sure what to expect. As I sat down on the loo it felt like a guitar string was being plucked in my tummy and all of a sudden I had a rush of water come gushing out. “Oh my god” I shouted to my husband. I think he assumed the baby was coming right there and then the way he shot up out of bed in a panic. As I walked back to the bedroom, I brought along with me my very own internal waterfall. I couldn’t believe how much fluid was coming out. Thank god we have wood flooring and i stocked up on massive pads!
I called the midwifes office as I wasn’t sure what I needed to do next and she suggested that I came in for an examination. I swiftly put on some clothes, scrapped my hair back and put on the biggest pad imaginable and headed over there. The pad started off like a loaf of bread between my legs and very quickly shrunk to a soggy slice. My leggings were absolutely saturated. Once I arrived at the surgery the midwife wanted to establish if I had wet myself or if in fact my waters had broke. She asked if I had any soaked pads to hand, but I only had the one I was wearing. So what do I do, without even thinking, i reached into my pants, pulled it out and handed it to her. I say handed it to her, it was so heavy that it kind of slapped her palm. Obviously they see it all so she wasn’t fazed by this.
She took my blood pressure explained that it was quite high and as it had also been high yesterday at my usual midwife appointment, she thought it was best I go over to hospital for monitoring. I was absolutely starving so naturally we went home first for a sausage sandwich. Unfortunately when we pulled up on the driveway my extremely nosey neighbour was stood in her garden. She could talk the hind legs off a donkey and is quite happy to tell anyone who’ll listen about all the gossip she’s gathered. Great! Just what I needed! She was the last person I wanted to see when I’m pissing water. My only saving grace was my leggings were black so it wasn’t obvious.
She asked if there was any sign of the baby, you know the usual bloody question, but we just brushed her off. The less she knew the better. We couldn’t get in the house quick enough, we practically ran. Yep. Totally played it cool.
After our breakfast we headed to the hospital where they strapped me up to a monitor. By this point I was on to my third pair of leggings and my waters were still coming out. I was soaking wet and there was a visible darker patch on my leggings. The whole situation just tickled me and every time I laughed more would gush out. This then set my husband off and we were in hysterics. I honestly didn’t think there was anymore water left inside me. After a few hours of monitoring I was sent home as my stats were normal. However, they booked me in for induction the following day at 9am.
This was it. I was finally going to meet my baby after all these weeks.
Once we got home it was just a waiting game and finally my waters had stopped coming out. I had a few little niggles here and there but nothing that I couldn’t handle. By the evening I was starting to feel the contractions every 30 minutes. I wasn’t really too sure what to do so I took myself off to bed in the hope I could get some sleep. I couldn’t. I ran myself a bath as I thought that might help ease the feeling. I remembered my friend telling me to try and think of the contractions as a wave coming in and slowly going back out. You know that you are supposed to try and breath to aid it but it just all goes out the window. I practiced breathing a million times and watched countless hypno birthing videos but when it came to it my ‘breathing’ resembled that of a horse impression.
My super supportive husband spent the evening playing video games, but he did insist on making me a big ol bowl of pasta. It was the pasta of dreams and still frequents mine on a regular basis. I don’t know what he sprinkled on it to make it so magical but I still look back on it now and wish I was there once again stuffing fresh bread into my already full mouth of pasta. You know when you are enjoying something so much that you don’t even stop to chew, you just throw it in your mouth as quickly as you can, that was me! Little did I know that this was the last meal id have before little Ernest arrived 24hrs later.
I started to get stronger contractions and by this point I just didn’t know what to do with myself. I knew if I tried to sleep I would instantly wake up when I felt a niggle and I didn’t want to pace up and down the room. I was all over the place but I wasn’t going to let panic take over. It was the early hours of the morning so my husband went to bed as there wasn’t a great deal he could do at this point. Although I must admit I did stand over him scowling whilst he was snoring his head off, not two fucks given. I could have murdered him. I just kept pursing my lips and huffing in the hope he might wake up. Nope he was fasto. I just walked around and around the bedroom in the darkness and when each contraction came I just tried to breathe through it.
I always assumed that a contraction would be like a shit pain and actually it wasn’t far off. I’m a sufferer of IBS and when I have a bad episode I have a wave of pain flow over me, I feel physically sick, I sweat and I just need to strip off. That is probably the best way I can describe it. It wasn’t pleasant at this stage but I could cope. It got to about 4.30am and my contractions were increasing. I wanted to stay at home for as long as I could as I didn’t want to get all the way to hospital for them to tell me to turn around. I woke my husband up as I knew it was getting to a point where I was going to need some assistance. We called the hospital at about 5am as my contractions were becoming more regular.
They wanted to speak with me and ask me questions. Basically they were trying to assess if i was just being overly cautious or i was panicking at the pain too early. I’m the sort of person that just tries to get on with things and not moan too much so as I wasn’t screaming down the phone and I didn’t have a contraction in the few minutes our conversation lasted, they told me to just go and get some sleep and come in for 9am as arranged. Well that was helpful! There was no way that I was just going to totter back up to bed for 40 winks!
As soon as I got off the phone my contractions became more intense and more regular. I managed to go a further hour or so before my husband decided enough was enough and he was calling them again. This time they told him to bring me over. We put everything in the car and we headed to the hospital excitedly.
This was it.