When I wrote Arthur’s birth notice for
the newspaper, I described his birth as being a ‘joyous’ occasion.
And it was! This isn’t a load of hippie hogwash either.
The birth of my son was the most joyful, beautiful and incredible
experience of my life.
The night before our baby was born I
couldn’t sleep. Not wanting to disturb Andrew with all my thrashing about, I
got up and pottered about a bit. I stayed up till one in the morning trying to
finish a picture of farm animals I was painting for the baby. (It remains
unfinished.)
I awoke at 9am the next day, feeling a bit
uncomfortable. This was nothing unusual as the baby’s head had been engaged
for a few weeks, and virtually everything had become uncomfortable!
When I noticed the discomfort seemed to be coming and going, I began to
think my baby might be born that day. Foremost
in my mind was our midwife Leanne’s words regarding pre-labour.
I thought, “This isn’t the real thing, the contractions aren’t long
enough. Besides, it could all just stop.”
Consequently, I didn’t think I should contact the midwife, my support
people or even Andrew just yet, and went about my usual morning routine.
Gradually, the contractions started
becoming more intense, longer and closer together. Even at this early stage, I
could feel the baby’s head pressing down on my cervix.
It became necessary to concentrate on each contraction, and I thought,
“This baby means business!” I
entertained the possibility that this might be the real thing, but I was
actually in denial about really being in labour until about halfway through.
I was expecting two lots of visitors that
day, so I rang them to say not to come around because I might be having a baby.
This was about eleven thirty. Time was just flying by. I rang the midwife and
left a message, saying to ring back but nothing else. She later said I sounded
too calm to be in labour! I rang my
auntie Bev, one of my support people, to give her some advance warning because
she lives about one hour away. The
contractions were now about 45 seconds long. I told her that it might not be
real labour, but she decided 45 seconds was long enough and to come anyway.
I’m glad she did! I was feeling a
little panicky on my own. I still hadn’t called Andrew, so I decided to let
him know what was going on, seeing as everybody else did!
Andrew, Ben and Anne (our backup midwife
– it was Leanne’s weekend off) arrived all around the same time.
Once I had company the pain seemed so much more manageable.
I found a position that worked for me – squatting down – and I would
bob down into this position, with my head and forearms resting on the dinner
table, whenever I had a contraction. Doing this, and exhaling slowly from the
beginning of each contraction, made it completely bearable.
At this point, my support people were busy
trying to get the birthing pool filled. This was a major undertaking.
Having exhausted the hot water cylinder, they were boiling huge pots of
water on the stove, and the kettle and spare kettle as well.
As my labour progressed quite rapidly, this wasn’t fast enough, so Bev
had to go door-knocking throughout the neighbourhood asking for buckets of hot
water! This proved sufficient in
the end.
Anne examined me (my one and only internal
examination) and found my cervix 5cm dilated. I was extremely pleased.
It was quite stretchy and she was able to open it up a bit wider. I
couldn’t believe how quickly things were progressing.
Since I was now officially in active
labour, I hopped in the pool. It
was pure bliss. The water was
beautiful and warm and felt very supportive of my belly. The water made it very
easy to relax and rest between contractions.
Being able to completely chill out and conserve energy like this I think
definitely helped me have such an easy labour.
Things began hotting up once I had been in
the pool a little while. Andrew
rang his mother (our other support person) and in his typical relaxed fashion
told her, “Come round whenever you want.”
I was in quite advanced labour by this stage!!
So she didn’t think to hurry, and consequently arrived much later than
everyone else. I kept asking where she was, and had begun to worry she might
miss the whole thing!
I felt a bit shivery and shaky so I asked
for a lemon and honey drink to keep my blood sugars up. I should have left out
the lemon because next thing I threw up and the citric acid left an awful taste.
Anne told me, “We call that the 7cm vomit.”
This was very encouraging. She
was very attentive. I remember her
always regularly asking if I needed more water, and reminding me to keep my
breathing slow and regular. She
kept telling me how well I was doing, and to keep doing whatever felt right to
me.
Leanne, our LMC, decided to come to the
birth even though it was her weekend off. I was glad about this because we’d
got to know her so well throughout the pregnancy, and I really wanted her there.
She arrived when I was approaching transition and gave me great moral
support and encouragement.
I thought I was probably in transition when
I started bellowing throughout each contraction. It made me feel better. I kept
saying “I’m sick of this.” The midwives said this was a sign we didn’t
have far to go! I seriously started
thinking, “Somebody else should get in this pool and have a turn birthing this
baby.” The support people and
midwives kept chatting amongst themselves and saying how well I was doing, which
was very reassuring.
Time ceased to have meaning.
My world was now divided into contractions, and the magic time in between
when I felt no pain at all. As this
rhythm progressed, I felt my rational, thinking self retreating, and my animal
self coming to the fore. I was in
my own space, not thinking.
I could feel the pressure building up as
the baby descended. Anne would
check his descent and heart rate from time to time, and every time she said he
was doing fine I would tell him what a good baby he was for being okay and doing
his bit to get born. I began to
feel like I wanted to push, but I wanted to be sure I was fully dilated first.
However, there was no time between contractions to have another internal,
so I just held off as long as possible, breathing through the contractions.
I was curious to know what was happening
inside me, and not being a particularly modest person, I had a good feel around
inside. I was quite surprised to feel the baby’s head, with a bulging bag of
waters before it, about halfway down. I
told everyone about this, very excited. The
midwives suggested I break the waters myself, with a fingernail.
The membranes were tough, but eventually came away.
When they did, a big contraction took me and the baby seemed to surge
downwards.
It was now obvious it was time to push.
It took a few contractions to get the hang of this.
The midwives helped me really well, giving instructions about breathing
and pushing. I still couldn’t
believe I was so far along. I was
on my hands and knees at this point. Everyone
said “The baby’s got lots of hair.”
I said, “What! Can you see it already?”
They all said “Yes!”
It was very exciting.
I felt a little awkward on my hands and
knees, and turned round into a supported squat. I was against the edge of the
pool, with two of my helpers holding my arms.
This position felt a lot freer and I was able to use gravity to help me.
The pushing contractions didn’t seem to
hurt, but this may have been because the rest of me was hurting so much!
Anne held a mirror under the water so I could see what was happening.
When his head was halfway out, the baby started wriggling! I shrieked. It
felt so weird. It felt like holding
a floating object under water while it tries to escape to the surface.
Arthur was keen to be born, and trying to wriggle his way out.
Because I gave birth in an upright
position, I was able to watch him as he was born. These are the most amazing memories of my life.
When he was halfway out I could make out his features under the water.
I could see him and feel him wriggling about under water. It was as if he
was trying to swim out by himself. I
yelled something daft like, “It’s my baby!”
I remember the midwives both smiling at that moment.
They were very pleased. Everyone
radiated energy – I could feel and hear them smiling.
The moment he was born was like an
explosion, and the pool water quickly changed colour! I brought our baby to the surface and Andrew lifted him out
of the water. Then Arthur and I had
the best cuddle. His face was the
picture of anguish. He was crying vigorously, bewailing the end of his utopian
existence in the womb.
You have all these ideas when you are
pregnant about what the first moments with your baby will be like.
You think about what you might say to your newborn, and imagine them
stopping crying as soon as they hear your voice.
You imagine yourself eagerly checking to see if you have a son or
daughter, as soon as the mystery of the last nine months is finally be revealed.
Myself, I have no recollection of what I first said to him. I remember
exactly the colour and feel of his skin, greasy and soft, as I held him next to
me. We stayed like that for a
little while, me talking and him crying continually, apparently not caring who I
was. After maybe five minutes Anne
said, “Shall we see what we’ve got?” I hadn’t even thought about it. So
we checked to see and I said to him, “I knew you were a boy.”
Arthur was born at ten past five, after a
labour of eight hours. I joked that
he was my nine to five baby. His
arrival seemed conveniently timed to suit everybody.
We rang the visitors I’d told not to come around earlier, (My mum, and
Andrew’s sister and niece) and they all came to visit our beautiful baby, just
a few hours after he was born.
I remember Mum phoning Dad and saying,
“It was just like a normal day. Andrew
got up and went to work, and Emma went into labour. They had the baby and now they’re all going to bed.”
