The peaceful unassisted birth of Annabelle... Part 2: Annabelle's birth story

I had been having the odd cramp/contraction on Sunday evening, not quite braxton hicks but not regular enough to think about timing. Sophie had had a tummy bug (her and Charlotte were spending the night at my parents’ house, to keep the tummy bug out of our house) and I wasn't sure if maybe I had picked that up. I stayed up until 11:30 that night, reading Ina May Gaskin's Spiritual Midwifery. I kept thinking I needed to switch my light off and get some sleep but I figured I could nap the next day.

I woke up just before 1am needing to wee and soon realised that I was having very mild contractions, 8 - 10 minutes apart. I lay down to rest a bit more, hoping to get a bit more sleep and messaged my doula Leigh at around 2 to let her know that things had started but I was still resting.

I soon realised that I wasn't going to get any more sleep and was more comfortable moving around than lying down, so around 2:30 I went through to the lounge, lit a couple of candles for light and put on some worship music. I swayed and squatted my way through contractions, rubbing my belly and talking to baby through each surge. In between, I soaked in the glittering golden lights of Pietermaritzburg below us, and wallowed in the utter peace of the moment.

At some point I messaged my mom and sister to let them know things were slowly starting, and at around 3 I let Leigh know I was up and things were progressing, and she said she would start making her way over. She lives in Westville, and was bringing a doula friend with, so I knew she would take some time to get to me. Contractions were getting close to 5 minutes apart and a minute long, but they were still very manageable and I continued moving as I felt comfortable during each one. They were intense rather than painful, and I was very aware of my body and what worked best in each moment.

After messaging Leigh, I went to shower and I checked myself at the same time - almost fully effaced but not dilating at all. This wasn't entirely unexpected, as I had taken 21 hours of labour to reach 3cm during Charlotte's birth, and then another hour to fully dilate. So I kind of expected another slow start - plus everything was still so manageable and easy and I was so enjoying being in labour!

After my shower I went through to the lounge again and started falling asleep. I was so tired! Leigh messaged to say she would be arriving at about 5, and at about 4:30 I went through to the bedroom to lie down next to Noel. Contractions spaced out from 3 or 4 minutes apart and I had 2 in the 20-odd minutes that I was lying there, dozing off in between.

When Leigh and Shelley arrived, I got up again and they became a bit closer, but still much further apart than they had been. Swaying wasn't helping as much anymore and Leigh applied counter-pressure through a couple of contractions (which could finally be described as painful) while Shelley made me a batch of lemon labour aide. Yum!! Leigh also lifted and brought my belly in through a couple of contractions to help get Bubby in a better position.

 

Leigh helping me with one of the 2 or 3 lift and tucks we managed to fit in

 

I messaged Arlen, and she said she had aqua classes until 10... so I figured we would go out walking at around 10 to get things moving, and hopefully we could have a baby in the early afternoon. We had discussed an enema a couple of weeks back and it had worked great for me during C's birth. I know others feel differently, but I liked knowing that when I had to push, it was definitely a baby (and that there weren't likely to be any surprises coming out at the same time as baby!) Arlen suggested I use it then, so I went off around 6:20.

Noel joined Leigh and Shelley in the kitchen - I heard later they were making tea and toast, and Noel started washing dishes (always practical!). In the meanwhile, my body cleaned itself out and I carried on labouring on the toilet, even having a bloody show. There were 2 contractions that felt intense enough to be active labour, I gripped onto the burglar guards and bathroom cabinet through these. But I would still describe them as intense rather than painful and I still felt so so peaceful.

I finished cleaning out, but still felt like I needed to push... it took a while to realise that it was now baby ;) I flushed the toilet and washed my hands, and tried squatting through a contraction, but it wasn't very helpful and I found myself sitting back on the toilet again. I sat there a while, giving a big push at one point, and started realising that I was going to have my baby in there, and pretty soon. I tried shouting for Leigh or Noel, and even tried throwing things at the bathroom wall (the lounge borders on our en-suite bathroom). My phone was charging in the kitchen and I had no way of letting Arlen know. I wasn't afraid, but it was just what I was supposed to do.

I felt baby's head move down my pelvis and rotate around - it was totally surreal! Soon after I felt to see how far baby was, and I could feel a bulge probably 4cm in. That suddenly made it real! I was having my baby in the bathroom, all on my own.

It still wasn't scary though - I was totally at peace and my body was doing exactly what it was supposed to.

The next contraction, I felt baby move down to 1.5 cm in, and realised that it was too squishy to be a head. Just after that, I heard a pop as my water burst all over the toilet, my legs and the floor. Kind of like in the movies J I felt again and baby was roughly 3cm in. I could feel my perineum bulging out and was very aware that sitting on the toilet was probably a very bad position to give birth in, because the weight of the baby (which was about to come out!) was too far back, and I needed to be leaning forward. I needed to move onto the floor, but I could not persuade any part of my body to move. I guess by that stage, every part of your body is focused on the area involved in giving birth, so there is no spare brain function to tell your legs to move ;)

Thankfully, just after that (probably 10 minutes after the show, and 5 minutes after my waters had broken) there was a gentle knock on the door and Leigh gently called out, "are you ok in there?" I called to her to call Arlen, the baby was coming. She rushed off to call Noel and Shelley, and while Noel phoned Arlen she helped me onto my hands and knees on the floor and found a towel for me to kneel on and a pillow for me to rest my head on (on the edge of the bath) in between contractions. Shelley came in and prayed for me in between taking photos, and someone found me a glass of water to sip on. Almost straight away, I could feel the infamous ring of fire and I told Leigh. She was so calm through this time and she was very good at reminding me to pant through contractions at this time, rather than push. I tried. I really did. But I just couldn't hold myself back all the time, and pushed a few times.

Leigh reminding me to breathe through contractions in the 10 minutes she was with me just before Bubby was born

Noel checked in with us after talking to Arlen, and asked if I wanted him to fill up the bath. I just grunted, "no time" back at him, and it occurred to me that maybe he would be able to catch our baby. Arlen had mentioned a couple of weeks before, that catching their own babies had made a major impact on a number of dads, and I thought how much I would love him to be able to have that gift.

As quickly as it came to me though, he disappeared again, and just a minute or so later, a little head popped out with the next surge. There was a brief pause, but no time to think before the shoulders and rest if the body followed, and I instinctively reached out to grab my baby as I focused on not letting her fall.

 

As I caught my very slippery little baby! You can see that she was already crying!

 

Before she was fully out she was crying, loudly announcing her entrance. Her cord was around the back of her neck, and I registered this and was aware that I needed to do something before I could lift her up, but my brain was still too slow to figure out what that something was. Leigh checked with me first, then unhooked it, and I raised my newest baby to my chest. At the same time, I caught a glimpse and vaguely registered that we had another daughter, but it was only a couple of minutes later when someone asked, that I had a proper look to see.

 

 

Falling in love with my little newborn. For some reason, this photo will NOT stay the right way around. I was standing up by this point though ;)

Someone called Noel, and he came in to meet our baby (I think slightly stunned at how fast it had gone). We hung out between the bathroom and the bed for a while - I liked the idea of hopping into bed with baby, but also wanted to stay upright to encourage my placenta to come out, and soon afterwards she started rooting and latched on beautifully.

Arlen arrived about 20 minutes after the birth, and ran a hot bath for me and baby to warm up in (it was cold!). At the same time, the bed was warmed up and the heater switched on, so when we got out of the bath we could snuggle up together in a warm bed. Through this whole time, our precious Bubby was just staring at me with her beautiful luminous violet eyes.

 

She weighed 3.26kg, a full 500g more than my back- up gynae had estimated, and 300g more than Charlotte had weighed at birth. I had so badly wanted a 3kg baby, and finally I had one! I messaged my mom and sister again to let them know that Bubby was here.

It took a while for my placenta to come out (which I left attached until the following day in a partial lotus birth, then planted in a pot with a beautiful pink flower above), and then Arlen checked for tearing. I was hoping for a small tear that we wouldn't have to stitch, but unfortunately there was quite significant internal and external tearing (because of the speed in which she descended, mostly because of the position I was in, as well as from the times I pushed really hard). There was a lot of swelling and bruising, and the local anaesthetic she gave me to numb the area before stitching up didn't take everywhere, so there were 4 or 5 stitches without anaesthetic. I had some Rescue drops and a couple of panados, and then squeezed Leigh's hand through those, literally screaming through the last couple. Poor Arlen missing the fun of the birth and just arriving to do the horrible part! That was agonising.

 

In the midst of this, my mom arrived with S and C. I didn't want them in while I was being stitched up, so S played (C had fallen asleep on the way over) until we were done and then they came in to meet our still unnamed baby. We had decided on a boy name, but I couldn't choose between the 2 girl names I liked. Sophie climbed up onto the bed with me (baby was lying right next to me), and she simply stared at her. After 2 hours of being very alert after her birth, she had finally fallen asleep just as I was being stitched, and was snuggled up next to me on the bed. Sophie was in awe of this tiny miracle, and it was so special to see them together.

Sophie meeting her baby sister for the first time. We kept the placenta covered in salt and wrapped in a towelling nappy, and it was in a paper bag at that point. I transferred it to a proper wetbag a bit later, so it was easier to move around. 

Proud big sister! She was so looking forward to being at Bubby's birth, and we had watched many birth videos together in anticipation of her being there.

 

A little later, after Leigh, Shelley and Arlen had left,  I asked Sophie which of the 2 girl names she preferred, and she chose Annabelle. Our Bubby finally had a name!

Annabelle is now 6 weeks old, and I still feel a rush of emotion when I go into our bathroom, put on the shirt I wore when I gave birth to her or look out of the lounge windows on a clear night.

 

Smiling at her 'newborn' shoot (at 4 weeks old)

I caught my baby. On my own.  My body knew what to do, and it did it - and because of that, my Annabelle was born at home, straight into my arms, where she is still most comfortable today. The first face she saw, her first experience of touch, the first voice she heard - all mine. As it should be. She came when she was ready, even though this was 9 days past when most SA gynaes would have allowed me to wait, and a full 3 weeks after she would have been born had I consented to a repeat csection. And for that, I have a healthy baby who eats and sleeps beautifully. She only lost 80g in the days following her birth, and was up to 3.52kg by 10 days old. No sign of colic, no allergies, just a happy calm baby.

As for me, I still can't believe I had an unassisted birth!

Interestingly enough, the times when I was on my own was when everything seemed easier, no pain and I was calmer and knew better what to do within myself. When I was with Noel or Leigh (despite them both being people I feel safe with and trust) is when I felt pain. Not overwhelming and I am grateful for them being there, but still pain nonetheless.

I really enjoyed my labour and birth – it was intense more than painful, and so so incredibly peaceful. Candles, a beautiful view, worship music, the tangible presence of God and an almost supernatural understanding of what my body and baby needed through my labour… does it get better than this?! I was in complete control of my body and it was simply a dance between Annabelle and I as we both did what we were created to do in the miracle of birth.

God has blessed me now with 2 amazing births (and 3 amazing daughters), and all I can think is, what a privilege it is to be a woman - to carry these babes for months as they grow, to go through labour, to birth them into the world, and then to nurture them in the months that follow. Each process a small miracle in its own right.

 

Annabelle, Charlotte and Sophie - I am a very blessed mama!

Annabelle and I

Charlotte's birth story ... my very long vbac story

Charlotte (or Bean, as we had been calling her for the past 8 months since I found out I was pregnant) was due on Christmas day, but I wasn’t expecting to have her anytime early or too close to my due date since my body so clearly wasn’t ready to give birth when I was induced at 39+1 with Sophie. I had a healthy pregnancy and had really enjoyed being pregnant this time, and was in no hurry to have her out – plus I was hoping for a January baby (just so that she’d be one of the oldest children in her class once she starts school, rather than the youngest, and also so that her birthday was further away from the hype of Christmas) but like any pregnant woman, by the time my due date arrived I was just so excited to meet her and I went to bed each night wondering if tomorrow would be the day I woke up in labour.

A couple of days past Christmas I found out that the people we had arranged to look after Sophie when I was in labour were now going camping in the Berg for 5 days (without so much as an apology or explanation), which left me bitterly disappointed and stressed about what we were going to do with her, since I really wanted my mom at the hospital with me. My positive, calm state of mind was totally broken and I spent a couple of days worried and in tears. Thankfully a long phone call to my sister helped me to put things in perspective, and I realised that there was no point in worrying about what could not be fixed or planned for. I planned to speak to a couple of people the next day about being a back-up plan for us depending on when and what time I went into labour.

The next morning, Sophie woke up wanting a bottle at 3:40am. I could feel from as soon as I woke up that something was different - I was feeling contractions! They definitely weren't braxton hicks as I felt some pain, but they were still quite manageable. I rested for a while after that but Soph woke up again half an hour later, and then as soon as she settled the alarm went off, so no more sleep! I didn’t want to make a big fuss over them as I was terrified that they were going to fizzle out, so I just stayed as quiet as I could for a while and tried to see if they were regular but without timing them.

I started timing them soon after 5 and they were about 10 min apart, so I messaged Leigh (my doula) to let her know soon after 6. They were getting a bit closer together and more intense but I was still quite comfortable, so we went to church (where they spaced out a bit) and I just told Noel that there was no way we were staying for tea afterwards as I didn’t want to talk to anyone! I was trying to keep my day as normal as possible, and keep my expectations low, although I was SO excited that *just maybe* my baby was on her way. We went shopping after church and had a quick brunch together. After I mentioned to Noel how afraid I was that they might space out further and stop, he asked if we could invite friends over that evening for a visit… He got in a bit of trouble for even thinking about it! 

Once we got home, they started becoming slowly more intense and closer together again, but still quite manageable. I finished sewing some letters for her room (realising that I might never do them if I didn’t finish them then!) and checked that our bags were all packed. At some point I let my midwife, Arlen, know that things had started  and through it all, I kept messaging Leigh. During the morning, she sent me a very encouraging message about how I had fought so hard for so long to be allowed a trial of labour, but now I didn’t need to fight any more – I had my team around me, and they were there to support me. Much later I decided to go down to see Arlen and get checked so that I knew how I was going - I still hadn't asked Leigh to come because I was coping fine although I had started having some that were almost a minute long and I had to vocalise (like breathing really loudly) through them.

When I saw Arlen at about 4:30/5pm, she confirmed that baby was lying nicely (not pushing on my scar at all) and her heart rate and my blood pressure were fine, and then she checked me - only 1cm, but fully effaced. I was a bit disappointed because the contractions were fairly intense and it had already been quite a long day so I was hoping I would be further.

She told me to go home and start power walking, and go to the hospital when my contractions were 5 minutes apart and 1 minute long for at least an hour. So I messaged Leigh on our way back, and she came and joined us at home. We walked around the neighbourhood until it got dark. That made the contractions quite a bit more intense, and Leigh was worth 10 times more than what we paid her in rubbing my back, helping me breathe more effectively and suggesting different positions to cope with the pain and to help baby drop a bit more.

My mom had cooked supper (her and my dad had been there all day and they were staying the night so that they could watch Soph when we went to hospital), so we all ate and then started timing contractions again around 8:30. By the time we'd done half an hour of timing it was very clear that they were closer to 3 min apart on average, and some even as long as 90 seconds, and getting really painful. I relied on Leigh a huge amount to get through each of them. So we packed the bags in the car, phoned Arlen and headed off to the hospital.

The contractions were coming every 2 minutes during the drive - that was horrible! They were much easier when I could move a bit to ease them. So I was very relieved when we arrived at the hospital, and after having 2 contractions outside before we even made it into the building (with 2 teenage girls watching – I’m sure I scared them from ever having children!), we made it inside. It was about 10:30 by the time we made it into the delivery room and Arlen hooked me up to the monitor to check on Bean’s heartrate and to do an internal. I was 2cm.

It was tough. I was exhausted after such a long day, the contractions were very intense and I didn't know how I would cope if they kept getting worse - and if I had to do this through the night as well! Logically, I had at least 8 – 10 hours left. Leigh kept me focussed though, and we had a bit to do like monitoring the baby through some contractions to check she was responding ok (not too good when I was on my back, but when I lay on my side or sat up she was fine), then Arlen gave me an enema (such a relief, because I kept feeling like I needed to go but there wasn't too much time between the contractions and I didn't really feel like pushing).

I then decided that we needed to do something, and it felt like maybe she was in a bad position and that's why things were taking so long. So I did some research on spinning babies to hurry up a slow labour and found what they call the roll-over. The roll-over is 8 different positions which you have to hold for 3 contractions each, which gradually rolls you over – and in the process allows baby to move around – out of a bad position if need be, or simply to explore different positions that may make descending easier.

At 12:30 Arlen spoke to my back-up doctor (who had been busy in theatre at another hospital) and she wanted to know how dilated I was. So Arlen checked again, and I was now at 3cm. Making progress, but still so far from where I needed to get to.

Leigh and I then started doing the roll-over. We had done 1 position on the floor using the birthing ball, and 2 on the bed on my side when I started to fall asleep between contractions and the contractions really slowed down. In my memory, it feels like they had spaced out to about 15 minutes apart, although Leigh later said she thought it was more like 5 minutes apart. I vaguely remember Leigh asking me if I wanted to go on to the next position and I said no (because I wanted to rest a bit more). The whole time, she was helping me through each contraction by pushing on a spot in my lower back, or by rubbing down my back - you cannot believe the difference it made!

At some point I remember her taking her hand off my back and I think she turned to speak to Arlen, and as she released her pressure I felt a contraction hit like I was in a head-on collision. That woke me up pretty quickly! I shouted and she whipped her hand back pretty quickly, but that was the most intense contraction yet. Then as it was tapering off, I suddenly felt like I HAD to go to the toilet, and I needed to push right then, lying on the bed. I assumed the enema was having a delayed effect and I hadn't yet got rid of everything J

Arlen and Leigh looked at each other, and I could see they were a bit confused. I know that you get an urge to push at the end, but I really thought my body was totally messed up and was trying to get me to push when I was only 3cm (maybe 4 at best). Arlen checked me again, and as she was checking she said, 'if you're a good 6cm, then you can get in the tub'.

I didn't watch her, because every other time she had checked it had been bad news, but Leigh said you could see her reach in, and feel a bit, and then she stopped. And then she tried feeling all around. Eventually she pulled out and she looked at me. 'Well', she said, 'I think we need to phone the doctor’. My heart sank.

... and then she carried on, 'because I think we need to tell her to come watch a water birth'

I looked at her, very confused!

'You're 10cm', she said. 'You need to get in the tub'

As she said that, another contraction hit, and I pushed on the bed some more. It totally took over my body, so that I don't think I could possibly NOT have pushed!

As soon as that contraction stopped, I got off the bed as fast as I could (with help from Arlen and Leigh), stripped off (I had bought a costume top to wear, but at that stage I was quite happy to not put it on - thankfully between Noel, Arlen and Leigh they found it and put it on me) and managed to get into the pool with only 1 more time of pushing (standing on the floor in the middle of the delivery room - I half expected my baby to just pop out!)

My first photo in the pool was at 1:30, so it was less than an hour from 3 to 10cm.

Through most of the time we’d been at the hospital, Noel had been staying out of the way, sitting on the floor and talking every now and again but not too involved. He was exhausted though, so at about 12:30 someone suggested to him that he go have a nap in my hospital room (there was no one else in there at the time). He spent the next (almost) hour taking bags backwards and forwards, to try sort out my things, and was just about to go to rest when I started wanting to push and we discovered I was 10cm. Thankfully he was still there, I don't know how I would have been ok without Leigh for long enough for her to go call him

Once in the pool, I struggled to find a comfortable position for a while. The water took away all of the pain of a contraction, but the pressure felt overwhelming. I have seen photographs of women kneeling upright, but that just felt all wrong to me, so eventually I realised that I was most comfortable almost lying down, floating in the water. I couldn't stand if my sacrum touched the bottom of the pool though, so Leigh called Noel in to hold my arms and support me. He was an absolute rock through this time, kneeling on the floor next to the pool and holding me up the entire time. I could hear him panting with the exertion every so often, but he never complained and kept telling me how well I was doing (and ended up with a bruised chest the next day, for his efforts).

The contractions came very close together at this point, and in each one I would have the urge to push about 3 times. I wasn't sure how to push though, so I'd push a short while and then stop as soon as the urge stopped. Leigh then stepped out of the way, and took my camera from Noel (we discovered that I had left the SD card at home though, so we could only get a maximum of about 20 photos – ironically I had 2 sets of spare batteries packed!), and Arlen came and knelt in front of me.

After a while of me trying to push, I realised I wasn't getting too far on my own (I think I also expected her to come out much quicker, without realising that she still had to be pushed all the way down the birth canal – for someone who had done so much research before the birth, I really wasn’t thinking while it was all happening), so I asked Arlen to talk me through how to push more effectively. That was a lot harder, but it wasn't too long and I could feel her crowning. Ouch!! Each push, I could feel her pushing out and the skin stretching, and then she would go back in again. Again, I felt like I wasn't doing something right, as if she should somehow just pop out - actually, doing that part slower can be a very good thing, because it gives the skin time to stretch and makes it less likely to tear.

The pushing was the most incredible work though, and it really took every second in between to try recover and build up strength for the next one. Serious puffing and panting to get some oxygen back in my system! Soon after 2am, I was doubting whether I was ever going to get her out - I asked Leigh how long it was going to take, and I checked with Arlen that it was now definitely too late for a caesar - I want to laugh when I think about it now!

I remember her head coming out about 3 or 4cm, and then slowly going back in between pushes. Then I asked Arlen how many contractions it would probably still be, and she thought 2. Well the very next one, I could feel her head coming, and Arlen just kept telling me to push, and eventually I just felt this whole warm soft squishy head pop out - at that stage there was absolutely no pain, it was just a pleasant, warm, gentle feeling. The next pushing urge came soon after, and Arlen again was telling me to just keep pushing, and suddenly her shoulders were out and then Arlen handed her to me and I had a baby. Charlotte Elizabeth Noelle was born at 2:10am, exactly 22 and a half hours after labour began.

It took a couple of seconds to register, and then I started laughing/crying - it was just the most incredible feeling to meet her after such a long, difficult day and all the effort that it had taken…

And then I realised - I did it!!! I fought so hard for my vbac, and I really did it! That triumph was mind-blowing!

We lay in the pool for about 45 min (Arlen had another birth in the room next door), Noel cuddled her but no one took her away from me. I just stared at her and soaked in the moment. From the very first moment, she felt like mine – that bond that I had expected when Sophie was born came instantly this time around.

When Arlen came back she realised I was bleeding quite badly, so we clamped the cord (which had stopped pulsing by then), and then I got out so she could see how bad my tear was and stitch it up. I latched Charlotte then, while she was doing that.

The stitches were horrible, because it felt like I'd done all the hard work already and it was unfair to add more pain in after what I'd just been through, but I was still able to walk straight away after giving birth – after having a shower I took a walk to the nursery to see Charlotte. And I drove the next day, soon after we got home from hospital. So even though it was sore, it was nothing like the pain of a caesar.

Thankfully, through the entire day, I felt no scar pain (I sort of expected to feel something, since I had felt pain at times during my pregnancy – which is apparently quite normal due to the scar tissue stretching), and I honestly didn’t even think or worry about my scar once. I had read that mom’s intuition is often the most obvious indicator of a uterine rupture and I had been convinced that I would be concerned about a UR during labour, but it didn’t cross my mind at all.

The whole experience was a journey – physically, emotionally and spiritually. It was so much bigger than me, and it took over my entire being. What a privilege to go from a cold, emotionless, matter-of-fact, ‘first you are pregnant, then you have a baby’ first time around, to a whole-body experience this time.

Without a doubt, Charlotte’s birth has been the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. And yet also the most rewarding, healing, empowering, amazing experience of my life. I cannot adequately describe either the intensity of labour or the incredible euphoria of birthing her, and I am just so grateful for the confidence and support of Noel, Arlen, Leigh, my family and a couple of close friends. God has blessed me with so much, but right now this feels like the biggest blessing of all – to bring Charlotte into this world in the way He intended, the way her and I were born to.

Beginnings ... Sophie's birth story

My vbac journey started just over 16 months ago when my daughter was born.

I was overwhelmed with paranoia throughout my pregnancy but especially as the time drew near to delivery, and Dr M (my obstetrician) suggested an induction at 38 weeks. I put it off for a week, too nervous to even tell my husband what she had suggested... I don't think I'd even mentioned how terrified I was that something would go wrong! I'd spent months googling every pregnancy ailment, genetic disease and anything else that could possibly go wrong and between my unfortunate new knowledge and the rush of pregnancy hormones, I couldn't control my imaginings. So when she said I could have my baby safe in my arms within a day, contractions possibly slightly stronger than if I went into labour naturally and my c-section risk only increasing to 35% (from 30%), it all seemed too good to be true.

 

In retrospect, it was. If I'd applied half the time to researching c-section rates (and their correlation to inductions) in South African private hospitals as I had to researching anencephaly and sickle cell anaemia, I would have realised that what she was telling me simply wasn't true. And that my greatest chance of having the natural delivery that I so desperately wanted was to simply ask her what other options there were. As in, could I simply schedule a 5 minute appointment with her twice a week until I went into labour, to ease my fears. Or even as simple as to ask her to check my Bishop score before scheduling the induction, to be confident that it had a chance of success (bearing in mind that I was still a couple of weeks short of the average first time gestation period of 40 weeks plus 8 days).

 

Induction - Day 1

So we went in at 9pm, just a day short of 39 weeks and after a lengthy admission process and numerous battles to get the fetal monitor to work correctly, I finally said goodbye to my husband at around 11pm. A while after that, they came in to administer my 'teabag', which was supposed to begin ripening my cervix.

 

After a night of very little sleep, I woke up with cramps in my legs rather than my uterus, and little change in my cervix beyond a slight softening. I started walking (marching!) the hospital corridors as soon as I woke up, to try and get my contractions going, and managed to get them to the point where I needed to pause for a moment as a new one started, but they never became regular. Later on they moved me to the delivery room, and a midwife gave me a medicine to drink (I asked what it was at the time, but the medicines are the one part of my story that I cannot remember) every hour for 4 hours. The monitor showed that my baby was still doing fine, and my contractions were peaking in the low 90s (apparently they should reach up to about 100). However, for every 'good' contraction, there was another one that was in the 30s or 40s - they never reached any semblance of regularity, and despite their intensity at times I was never in any kind of pain. The Braxton Hicks I had had for the past 4 or 5 weeks felt like they were doing more than these contractions!

 

As the day wore on, the previously upbeat midwives became a bit more somber as each cervical check revealed little to no change. A couple of them came in together around mid-afternoon, to check on me. I was still excitedly waiting for 'real' labour to begin, and quite happy to go run a marathon if thats what it took! However Dr M had said to me that TODAY I would have my baby, because I was now 'on the clock'. So we all knew that she would want to book a theatre slot by early evening at the latest. The midwives reassured me that my baby was strong and had a good heartrate, and encouraged me that if I still felt able, I could ask to continue with the induction tomorrow. So when Dr M came in to check on me, they came in with me and helped me to stand my ground, and she 'allowed' me to try again the following day. I was so desperate to have my normal delivery.

 

Looking back, I am horrified that I put such blind confidence in her! I felt as though I were a schoolgirl and she were allowing me to skip a class!!

 

Induction - Day 2

During the night, a midwife came in to insert my next 'teabag' - no good news, still just a fingertip dilated. So I slept as much as I could and as soon as it was light, I began walking the corridors again. I was determined that today was the day! At 8ish I realised I needed to get back to the maternity ward for breakfast and as I arrived I was met by a nurse, "Where have you been? The doctor's been trying to get hold of you. She's not happy, she's taking you into theatre soon so we need to get you prepped". My world dropped. I can still vividly feel that shock and disappointment, and horror at the thought of what was coming, and I have tears running down my cheek as I type this.

 

I phoned my husband in floods of tears. "They're taking me into theatre and I don't know when but I know its soon. Can you get here soon? I need you!". The poor man had been working late the night before and was woken by my phonecall - and I'm not sure how much sense I was making! But to his credit he arrived there within 20 minutes and my mom was shortly behind. The nurses prepped me and tried to lift my spirits, but I was already in the OR when I realised that, at the very least, my baby was coming today and I needed to cheer up. Despite my sadness, the most exciting event of our lives was about to take place.

 

... and Sophie is here!

The operation itself was unremarkable. The spinal went in fine and worked perfectly and the anaesthetist was a wonderful narrator, telling me what was happening and when Noel needed to get ready to take a photo. It was a little uncomfortable while they were tugging, but that was more the thought of what they were doing than the actual physical sensations. All of a sudden I heard a cry and realised that my baby was there. No big announcements; I had to ask to check whether it (she!) was a boy or girl. It was all quite routine and anticlimactic. Noel went with her as the paediatrician checked, suctioned and swaddled her, and then they brought her to me for a brief moment. I caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye as they held her on my shoulder, all 2.926kg and 47cm of her.

 

It was all very surreal and she really didn't feel like she could possibly be the baby I had been talking and singing to and falling so hopelessly in love with for the last 9 months. She felt totally foreign, as if they had just handed me a stranger's baby. To make matters worse, they then rushed her to the nursery to get cleaned up while I was being stitched up and I was then forgotten in the recovery room for 20 minutes until a maternity ward nurse finally remembered to fetch me. By then it was almost visiting hour and so I was not allowed to see Sophie or begin breastfeeding her. Noel came through to my room to show me a couple of photos, and then went back so that at least one of us could be with her, while my mom sat next to my bed holding my hand, neither of us talking much and both ultra-aware that this momentous event had just happened but I was just so eager to hold and breastfeed my baby, and she was so disappointed that I had yet to hold her properly that we just couldn't find neutral topics to discuss.

 

Eventually visiting hour ended and my tiny newborn was brought to me. She latched with some help (just over 2 hours after birth) and after 5 or 6 difficult weeks (particularly in the first couple of days when she couldn't stay awake for more than a minute or 2) and numerous problems, we are still happily breastfeeding today. 

 

Sophie is now a precious, bright, active, determined, independent, adventurous and very chatty toddler. She has opened my eyes to the true joy of being a mom and my heart now really does live outside my body. I wanted her from before she was conceived and loved her from long before she was born - but nothing could have prepared me for how much I treasure and adore this precious, funny little girl!

 

Postscript: a vbactivist is born

It was while being transferred onto the OR bed/gurney that I remembered reading about vbacs during all my wild pregnant researching, and decided that I would not - could not! - go through this again unless it was actually necessary for my (future) baby's health. I have researched it thoroughly in the past 16 months and my research has made me more convinced that the risks of a c-section are even greater than the risks of a vbac, and that it truly is the safest and best option for myself, my future child/ren and our family.