Our toddler came in to see me, hold her new brother and steal my toast. As it turned out, my old scar had opened and I needed stitches, but as soon as baby was checked and they were finished the ambulance was sent off and I was able to settle into newly changed bedlinen in my own bed with my precious baby beside me. As soon as it was delivered I demanded a shower- everyone was too nervous to stop me as I trashed the landing carpet and came back to feed Paddy again, just as a lovely midwife arrived. They tried to give me gas and air to deliver the placenta- I took a couple of gasps to be polite but was high as a kite on endorphins anyway. The ambulance turned up about ten minutes later, and clamped his cord so my husband could cut it. It was just an hour since I had woken up- 6:45am. I genuinely felt no pain, only euphoria as my little boy latched onto my breast. I held him close, amazed that I’d had the kind of birthing experience I had thought was bullshit. I was ecstatic to see him, as his little body flushed red- he was so peaceful and relaxed, my rainbow baby. Paddy steadily emerged into the world, caught by his Nannie with Daddy supporting his slippery body. Thankfully, neither of those things happened. Having taught NCT classes, she had enough knowledge to be very frightened by what was happening: what if baby’s shoulders got caught? What if I began to bleed? I went inside myself, barely aware of my daughter’s wails from behind her bedroom door gate, or that my poor Mum and husband were playing a terrifying game of Chinese Whispers where he spoke to the 999 dispatcher and she stood ready to catch baby. I felt none of that fear or pain, only intensity and excitement. It was incredible- my epidural with my first had worn off at this point and I’d screamed and panicked from the pain. The irresistible urge to bear down came over me- I felt the pressure of his head and body moving down. I got onto our bed on all fours, as we hurriedly bundled the duvet out of harm’s way. Cue Mum’s horrified realisation that “shit, love, you’re in transition.” When your mother swears, you know things are serious. I also began to freak out a little- my hypnobirthing visualisations and borrowed TENS machine weren’t doing anything. I began to strip off, complaining I was boiling hot.
I couldn’t handle the return phone call- we would have to go the regional hub as the local unit had both rooms occupied. I couldn’t keep the discomfort out of my voice as I stumbled out of the bathroom. While on the loo (sorry, this story isn’t glamorous… but then what labour is?!) the contractions became much more intense. I got off the phone and needed the toilet. Nobody could answer the phone, so it was transferred to another unit, who promised to get someone to call me back. To satisfy her, I phoned our local midwife-led unit where I planned to give birth. I dispatched my husband into the shower while she nervously pointed out I could be further on than I thought I was. I was already having to breathe through the contractions, which made Mum nervous, although I was adamant that it would be hours yet. We both had no idea she would soon be taking care of her big girl instead. By the time I had pottered about for 20 minutes I realised this was the real thing, and woke up my husband and my mum, who was staying to take care of our little girl. I decided against going back to bed, and went to get a drink and something to eat. She settled quickly back to sleep, but I felt strange. Every morning I woke up and nothing had happened. I had had strong Braxton Hicks every evening for 3 weeks. I put up and shut up when people I barely knew told me to get busy with my husband. I had daily treatments from my acupuncturist mum. I had tried everything- clary sage baths, bouncing on a birth ball (and a trampoline on a day out with my toddler…), spicy food.
I was 6 days overdue, and every one of those days felt like an eternity. I did not expect a labour that lasted just under an hour. My daughter took 3 days and needed forceps to haul her into the world. Ladies in the supermarket, my midwife, my friends, my mum. Everyone I ever spoke to while pregnant with my second child told me that.
Sometimes it’s not as you imagined but exactly as it should be. Not at all as she planned, but so perfect, and she was surrounded by the people she loves. When one of our lovely readers, Lucy, sent us her birth story we just had to share it with you.
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