Results 1 to 4 of 4

Thread: Angus' birth, 2004

  1. #1
    *Yvette* Guest

    Default Angus' birth, 2004

    Angus’ birth, 31st May 2004.

    Me: Yvette, age 38. Husband: Lindsay, age 48.
    Other children Lola, 11 and Ruth, 7.
    Midwife: Maryse.

    The pregnancy.

    As with my first two children, I conceived on the second cycle after coming off the pill, and was very healthy throughout the pregnancy. During the first trimester, I had some slight nausea in the mornings which soon passed, and felt tired quite easily, napping whenever I got the chance and falling asleep earlier at night. I was still working for the first 3 months. By the second trimester, I felt better but was becoming even more tired. An iron supplement made a noticeable improvement in the tiredness, but I now developed a pain in the groin.

    At first I thought it was a muscle strain, then we thought it might be a hernia, but it wasn’t either. The doctor at the hospital told us it was probably ligaments, something to do with pregnancy hormones making everything softer. Anyway, this pain stayed with me for the rest of the pregnancy and a few weeks after the birth. I walked with a limp sometimes, and towards the end of the pregnancy used my walking stick a few times. (I’d gotten the stick during my last pregnancy, when I’d had some sciatica in the left leg instead). It was mainly in the left side, and sometimes there was a clicking feeling when I walked. The pain would get worse if I lay on my right side with my head slightly elevated, (like cuddling up to Lindsay in bed) and it was painful to roll from one side to the other in bed at night, which I had to do frequently. I couldn’t lie on my back very much because it felt all weird, and lying on one side would make that hip ache after a while.

    Edit 2005. I now know I had symphysis pubis disorder, & could have benefited from wearing an elastic brace around my hips.

    There was no line down from the belly button this time, and not much change to the pigmentation on my face. My nose felt stuffy all the time although I had no colds. I craved fruit, cakes, cream and deserty things which I normally don’t like. I was able to switch from Vegemite toast to muesli for breaky, and I normally hate cereal. I cut down my alcohol, but still had a glass of wine or beer most days, (and a few times 2 glasses) until late in the pregnancy, when I just fancied it less. I would drink my glass as slowly as possible and with food, feeling suitably guilty as there is no-one left game enough to approve of any alcohol consumption during pregnancy. As the pregnancy got further along, I would feel the effects of alcohol much more quickly, often pouring a glass of wine and not finishing it because I felt drunk after a few sips. I had heartburn during the night on and off in the later months. My nipples leaked a little bit from about six months. I felt the heat unbearably through the summer, and didn’t notice the cold much as the seasons changed. I thoroughly enjoyed having my family fuss over me. My daughter would bring me a glass of milk at bedtime, and Lindsay kept me well fed, made sure I took my vitamins, rubbed my back and got me milk or snacks in the middle of the night if I had heartburn or nausea or just because I fancied something. For the last few weeks I refused to drive, so Lindsay did all the ballet lessons trips. It was hard to reverse because I couldn’t turn around very far. With this pregnancy, I felt the baby moving earlier than before, and I felt Braxton Hicks contractions from quite early on. They weren’t painful, but as I got bigger they would be uncomfortable if I was walking around because of pressure on the bladder. I put on the same amount of weight as with the other two, about 3 stone (42lb, 19kg).


    We couldn’t afford to have a home birth this time, so I booked into a public hospital, Birralee at Box Hill. I was confident I could still have the birth I wanted in hospital, having done it twice before. The GP who referred me there recommended I have amniocentesis because of my age, but I wasn’t keen. When we started attending appointments at the hospital, we found that I had missed the 13 week ultrasound (I didn’t know about it). I saw a different doctor for each hospital appointment. Although they are very careful about what they say, I felt the doctors here were not so keen for me to have the amnio. It soon turned out to be too late for that as well, and I was quite relieved as I really didn’t feel I could deal with making any kind of decision if an abnormality was found, and I was worried about the risk to the baby. We had the normal 18 week ultrasound, and everything looked fine. We found out it was a boy, the placenta was clear but a bit low, and there was a cyst in the brain (which I’d had before and was nothing to worry about as it went away). Another ultrasound later showed the cyst was gone and the placenta had moved up. When the appointments finally switched from doctors to Midwives, they asked if I would like to have the same Midwife see me from now on and attend the birth. I don’t know how I got so lucky, but I’m very glad I did. We met Maryse at the next visit, and I felt very comfortable with her. I can’t imagine giving birth with someone you’ve never met before. What if you just totally couldn’t relate to them and it was all uptight?

    10 days overdue.

    Angus was due on 20th May. I’d had very noticeable but not at all painful Braxton Hicks all through the pregnancy. On Sat 22nd I noticed they were a bit stronger than usual and coming about 20 minutes apart in the early evening, but after a few hours of frenzied panic cleaning they stopped. Still it was good to have all the kitchen cupboards and cutlery so clean. I was quite disappointed that things had not started that weekend, or during the following week, as I wanted Lola and Ruth to be present, and the following weekend they would be away with their fathers. (I’ve been married twice before, hence the big gap between kids).

    I’d had a particularly uncomfortable night on Saturday night, with severe heartburn, the usual aching hips, discomfort in the groin (ligaments apparently), getting up to wee at least every half an hour, and pressure on the bladder and bowel which was becoming increasingly annoying. It felt like I was getting close. It was often hard to walk. I felt part of the mucous plug on my leg when I got up during the night.

    Early labour. About 6 hours.

    On Sunday night, 30th May, my partner Lindsay and I collected Lola at 5pm. When we stopped for fish and chips on the way home, I told Lola I thought this might be it as the contractions seemed to be getting stronger. We enjoyed our dinner, and sent Lola to try to get some sleep for as long as possible.

    Lindsay and I went upstairs to try to rest and wait to see if this was it. It definitely was, but as well as the mild early contractions, I had this other pain which was becoming increasingly severe. It felt like pressure on my bladder and bowel, and made it impossible to walk without pain. I had to wee every 10 mins or so, just a few drops. Lindsay rang Mum to let her know we thought it was starting, but I couldn’t get him to ring Dad or Gavin and Maria. (Gavin my brother, and Maria, his partner who was supposed to be a birth helper). He thought it best to wait until we were more certain or further along, but I was telling him they would be better off having advanced warning. Anyway, my plans for family help, trying to get both kids home etc were abandoned in the panic.

    By about ?9.30pm I was in tears and wondering how I was going to cope if it was this bad already. I was in a lot of pain, seemingly unrelated to the contractions, and it didn’t go away between the contractions. I asked Lindsay to ring Maryse to let her know what was happening. She suggested we go in to the hospital to have me checked out, and keep her posted. My pain settled down but contractions kept coming steadily while Lindsay got our gear together. I was together enough still to remind him of this and that from our ‘what to bring to the hospital’ list, but reminding him of the juice boxes, I assumed he had all the other food, which he didn’t. Fortunately, the apricot and caramel thingies made it into the bag. We left for the hospital around 10pm. For some reason we still didn’t feel very confident and I even thought they might send me home again. I’d never had a baby in hospital before, and I’d read lots of birth stories where the Mum was sent home again in early labour. Lola was with us without Grandpa to look after her, Ruth was at her father’s house with no-one having tried to get her home, and we were arriving at the hospital without a birth helper.

    Lindsay pulled the car up right outside the door, and for some reason decided to park the car right away after taking out the bags and letting Lola and I out of the car. Being night time the doors were locked and we couldn’t get in. It was quite cold and windy, and another contraction started just then so I just sat on the brick wall and waited, not realizing there was an intercom. Once inside, we didn’t notice there were wheelchairs available, so I just struggled in, wondering through to the inner waiting room. No sign of any hospital staff. I was amazingly calm about all of this, not becoming annoyed or impatient. I suppose I had already started to introvert as I do when I’m in labour.



    Someone soon appeared, and we were shown into a birthing room, where I was hooked up to a monitor thing, sitting up on the bed. It measured baby’s heartbeat and my contractions. To my surprise, baby was now posterior, his head down but his back facing my back. So far he had been in the right position, and now he wasn’t. I got on my hands and knees for a bit, as I’d been told by the Midwife who delivered my eldest daughter that this encouraged baby to turn around the right way. The monitor showed that baby was fine, contractions still mild and not so regular (they felt pretty regular to me). I didn’t want to go home and come back again, and I told the Midwife that judging by when labour started, I expected baby to be born early next morning. She went away to get a doctor to examine me, and came back to say the doctor didn’t need to see me, and it was OK for me to stay as long as I was progressing by morning. It was now about 11.45pm. (The digital camera recorded the times on the photos). She left us to make ourselves comfortable.

    I asked Lindsay to put some aromatherapy oils in the mister bottle to spray around which he did, and he put a CD in my daughter’s Discman for me to listen to, Ron Sexsmith, which was very relaxing.

    I was starting to have to vocalise with the contractions, and find something to hold onto. The trolley next to the bed was what I grabbed, and held tightly with each one, laying on my side, and letting out an oooaaaaooooh. I would try to sustain the sound as long as possible, which would give me focus and help me control my breath. I learned to do this with my first baby. Since first doing it back then it just came naturally and I could not stop it if I wanted to. With really long contractions, it could take up to 3 or 4 of these long oooaaaahs, with a breath in between. Without making the sound, panicky breathing would soon exhaust me. The sound gets louder as the contractions intensify. I imagine it’s also an easy way for everyone else to know when my contractions are occurring and how they’re changing. (Everyone in the room, everyone in the building, surrounding suburbs….).

    Lindsay put off the lights and we all tried to get some sleep. I soon became very cold and shivery, and asked Lindsay to ask the nurse for a blanket. I felt much better with the blanket on and actually managed to sleep between contractions for a while, lying on my side in the bed, but I have no idea how long for. I kept having to get up and wee a few drops after each contraction, so back and forth to the en-suite. Moving from the bed to the bathroom would bring more contractions, and moving was painful, even between contractions.

    The hard slog. About 6 hours.

    On about my 4th trip to the loo, I got stuck in the bathroom as contractions kept coming close together and more painful, preventing me getting back to the bed. I spent what seemed like a very long time in there on my own. More mucus plug appeared, I constantly felt like I had to wee but only a few drops. I moved from the loo to the shower chair, and back to the loo, and back to the shower chair, and clung desperately to the hand rails during contractions. It was a struggle to reach the loo paper from the toilet, but I didn’t have the spare concentration to mentally redesign the bathroom like I normally would. Eventually I decided to make myself more comfortable, and with phenomenal effort hauled myself out of the bathroom and quickly grabbed a pillow, a blanket and the Discman to take back in. Lindsay and Lola seemed to be sleeping peacefully. I used the pillow under my knees on the floor as there were no mats or towels or anything, and put the blanket over my back as I was still feeling cold. I tried leaning over the birth ball, but soon rejected it – I didn’t want anything that moved, wanted only to feel solid and grounded. I leaned over the shower chair, listened to the rest of my CD, moving from floor to toilet to shower chair and so on forever and ever, weeing a few drops here and there. Baby was still posterior, but I wasn’t having one of those backache labours I’d heard about. No pain at all in the back, except for one contraction in the bathroom. For just one contraction I felt the full on back thing exactly as I’d heard it described.

    Finally felt I could hold off weeing for a while, and made my way back to bed. Got back to laying on my right side beside Lindsay, facing outwards so I could grab the trolley during contractions. Got the blanket back over me and settled in. I was making a louder noise now. Then after a short while I felt a huge gush of hot fluid come out of me. It was quite a sensation, and I was surprised just how hot it was. Lindsay felt it all over his knee, as he was cuddled up behind me. Time to ring for the nurse and get them to ring Maryse again. This was about 4:15 am, and Maryse was now on her way.

    I think I barely opened my eyes after this, and was very very introverted. Somehow I suppose they managed to sort out the bed and get me out of my puddle. I remember getting very shaky and shivery, and becoming hot and shedding the blanket. I must have discarded my clothes earlier. Maryse appeared and brought in a soft rubber floor mat. Yay! I got down onto it and demanded the shower chair to lean on with a pillow on it.

    It was really, really hard now. I could barely communicate at all, was in pain between contractions and reluctant to move at all. The contractions carried me along unwillingly, and I struggled to accept them. I found it distressing knowing that each one would be stronger than the last, and tried to accept that this was bringing me closer to birthing my baby, which was the only way out.

    Maryse offered me a drink and I managed to say yes. From then on I got water from a cup with a little straw at regular intervals. This was great. I think I would have liked the juice boxes we’d brought, but too much effort to say so. Water was great anyway. Maryse asked if I wanted my headphones back on. I either said no or I don’t know or didn’t answer. I would have loved more music, but with headphones I would have felt even more cut off from the room than I already was. We really needed something with speakers. Maryse touched me lightly on the lower back, which felt good until later on when I couldn’t stand it. I’m not sure if it was just during contractions or all the time that I didn’t want to be touched later on. I do remember her hands were cool and very gentle, and they did comfort me. I could have done with more of this earlier on.

    I was kneeling on the mat leaning half on the bed and half on the chair. It was a big effort to move my arms so that I was fully leaning on the chair, which was at a better height. My legs felt tired and I lowered myself to the floor, just sitting with my legs under me supporting myself with my hands on the floor. This soon made my legs uncomfortable and I leaned back on the chair again. I managed to say “hot” and ask for a cool washer, which Maryse quickly got for my forehead and the back of my neck. This was lovely, and from now on all I had to do was say “hot” when I needed it. Sometimes she would wave the cool washer over me like a fan, and I would say “good”. I think it was while I was on the floor that I asked for an exam to see how far dilated I was. It wasn’t too uncomfortable. I heard Maryse tell me how far dilated, but I don’t remember what it was. I thought I was on the floor for quite a long time, but according to the photos it can’t have been more than half an hour or so.

    I wanted to move but I didn’t know where to move to. I had planned to hop in the big bathtub when I was progressing well, but the bathroom seemed a million miles away and I couldn’t imagine walking anywhere. I managed to get back on the bed. For a little while I was sitting up, one leg out in front of me and the other folded under me. I think I must have been unable to move, as the movement onto the bed had caused another contraction . At 5:20 I was laying on my left side, and at 5:54 I was laying on my right side. At least this way I wasn’t holding myself up. At this stage I remember feeling my baby turn around, from having his back facing my back to the other way which was better. I don’t remember what anyone said, but I knew Maryse was aware of him turning and was pleased. I was too, but it hurt a lot and I let everybody know. I don’t know what time this was, but I think it was about now that Maryse said it was getting very close.

    Maryse suggested I change position and get myself more upright. The head of the bed was lifted and pillows arranged so that again I was on my knees, leaning forward over the head of the bed. I thought about trying to do it sitting up facing forward so I could see, but either I couldn’t get comfortable that way or Maryse didn’t think it would work as well. Anyway, leaning forward seemed the way to go, and this was how I’d had my first two kids. I think it was somewhere around this point I had to wee again. I let Maryse know, and she positioned a ‘bluey’ (padded disposable mat thingy) so I could let it happen. I couldn’t have stopped it or walked to the loo, and it was quite a big wee. I got myself into position at the head of the bed. I thought it was tilted right up, but it was only a little bit, another example of introversion and altered perception. Maryse held my hand a bit, and Lindsay held my hand a bit. This was good, but if they touched me anywhere else I couldn’t stand it. I remember saying “don’t touch me” a few times.

    Lindsay said later that I hadn’t wanted him anywhere near me, but that’s not how I felt. I just didn’t want to be touched. I think they were touching me on the back when I said this. Having someone hold my hand was good, and I would have liked more of that. Having someone touch my tummy may have been good too, at least earlier on. I may have been able to move to the bath if it had been arranged earlier on, and I could have eaten some small pieces of chocolate or orange segments earlier on, something not too chewy. Being talked to more without me having to answer or make a decision would have been good, telling me what time it was, when someone entered or left the room, how Lola was doing, how my noises sounded. But I can see how my demeanour could be interpreted as “back off and leave me alone”.

    For future reference, I will read this and put more information into the birth plan. Already two weeks later (I’ve been working on this since a couple of days after the birth,) I’m forgetting how hard it was and thinking it was easy; the noises on the video say otherwise! I’ve tried to think of what else could have been done to help me, I felt I was left fending for myself for a lot of the time because of lack of helpers and my inability to communicate, but I also have a sense that the time may have passed more quickly because of this time spent alone. From around midnight when it started to get difficult, I was fearful because I felt I still had a long time to go; although the time of birth was exactly as I expected. I didn’t have any awareness that I was halfway through already, or four hours later that I had made it through another four hours, and only had about two and a half hours to go. As the birth got closer, it was comforting to be told so. I think I would have liked to be talked to more, but avoiding anything during a contraction which requires a response. Even between contractions, it’s better to avoid questions requiring anything other than yes or no, (and sometimes that’s too hard). Sometimes it’s better to have decisions made for you, for example have a sip, eat this, we’re going to move here now (You can always manage to shake you’re head). I find it really interesting to look at these issues, because dealing with feelings of fear mattered to me as much as physical comfort. How could I have felt more comfortable, less fearful, and had a better concept of my progression?

    I felt like I was losing my cool (what little cool I was in possession of at that stage). I whimpered, my sounds got rather wobbly, I said “no!” as a contraction approached, as if I could opt out of it. Maryse said all the right sort of encouraging things, telling me I was doing really well, telling me to go with it. This really helped. I needed reminding to go with it. I felt comforted and more confident. Maryse said again that it was getting very close. “You said that ages ago you lying cow” I said. Whether it was in fact ages ago I have no idea; my concept of time was non existent. Hopefully she could tell I was trying to be funny. Anyway, she was right. It seems so obvious to me now that when I get really ****ty and think I can’t do it any more, I’m in transition.

    The birth. About 20 minutes.

    I felt my baby move downwards and the sensations changed. At 6:28 some more fluid came out. Maryse got me to move one knee so they were a bit further apart. The noise I was making during contractions changed to a very obviously “pushy” noise, grunty and growly. “My poor daughter” I said, referring to Lola. “Don’t be scared sweetie, I made these noises when you were born too”. Lola was OK, she was helping fetch water and wash cloths. I think I was starting to feel a bit better, I suppose because I knew I was nearly there now. Poo came out my bottom each time, which was rather distressing for me; that hadn’t happened before, and it felt like such a lot, although it wasn’t. Maryse and Lindsay took care of that ever so gently each time. Fortunately I had brought my own tissues, lovely and soft. The pushing sensation was fairly involuntary this time. I could help it if I wanted to but my body was doing it’s own thing. The spaces between contractions were longer. Maryse listened to baby’s heartbeat, and we noticed it was slowed a bit. My feet were burning.

    Maryse could see the baby’s head, with hair, and asked if I wanted to touch it. I couldn’t just then, too busy. Feeling the stretching frightened me. The stretching didn’t feel anywhere near as painful as the contractions, but I remember feeling either the little tear or the graze the last two times, and it hurting, and I was scared of that. Maryse knew this from my birth plan. It was obvious that she’d read it carefully by the way she handled everything. She repeatedly assured me that I was stretching really well and there was no sign of any tearing. She placed warm washers gently on my perineum, letting me know what she was doing. At 6:42 baby was crowning. Maryse got me to puff to hold off pushing, so that baby’s head would come out gently. The head was half way out and just sitting there while we waited for another contraction, which seemed to take a while. A couple of times I squealed as he moved back in slightly, which hurt a lot. I could feel the pressure, the intense stretching, but not the acute stinging I’d had before. I managed to move my right hand down to feel his head. At one stage she said I didn’t have to wait for a contraction to push a bit if I could, which I did. She felt for the cord, found it and slipped it over his head. 6:45, the head was out, I felt a huge relief. Everything was going well, I was nearly there, I felt calm. “Lola, his name’s Angus” I said. “Hello Angus” said Maryse. I heard Lindsay and Maryse laugh, and Maryse said “Oh, you’re going to say hello to us”. He had opened his eyes and made a little noise. I don’t know how many contractions, or if I pushed between contractions here. He sat there with just his head out for a bit, then the rest of his body when it came seemed to be all at once.

    Angus Lindsay was born at 6.47am on 31st May 2004. He weighed 3775 grams (8lb, 5 oz), length 52 cm, head circumference 36 cm. Apgars 6 and 9.

    So much for wanting to watch in the mirror this time. Even if I had been in a different position, would I have been able to open my eyes? Suddenly all was right with the world again. My eyes opened and I felt acutely alert and invincible.

    Instant reward.

    That’s the wonderful thing about giving birth, at the end of your hard work you’re immediately handed a gorgeous baby. I’d spent the whole pregnancy worrying (not seriously worrying, but with it always in the back of my mind) whether the baby would be OK. During labour it didn’t enter my head, except momentarily when I noticed his heart rate had slowed a bit. Now all I knew was he was out and I was OK and finished with this labour. I quickly and easily got my leg over him and turned around to sit down. Low lights and quiet voices as I’d requested. I heard Maryse say he was a bit floppy, but she didn’t sound worried. He had passed meconium just before coming out and ? just after coming out as well. He hadn’t cried yet. As soon as I sat down he was in my arms lying on my chest, I was told his heart rate was good, and a warm blanket was over us. Maryse told me to keep rubbing him and she got the suction thingy. She calmly and quietly told me what was happening - he had some fluid in his lungs which she would suction to help him start breathing. She pushed the thin tube right down his windpipe, but it didn’t seem to distress him. He started to breathe – good - but it sounded wet and weak. I don’t remember feeling scared, just happy when I knew he was breathing, and happier as his colour started pinking up. He was fine. I felt total happiness, Lindsay and Lola cried. We comforted Lola and told her it was OK, and she told us she was OK, just happy. I was very glad she was there with us. At 6:51 Maryse suctioned him again, and got some more fluid, and a third time but there was nothing else to get. He cried a quiet little cry and got pinker, his lips now bright red. I offered Angus a nipple, but he wasn’t quite ready yet.

    I needed the bed laying down for a bit, I was so physically tired. I was aware of Lindsay and Lola cutting the cord, (after it had stopped pulsating, as per the birth plan), but must have had my eyes closed again, having a bit of a rest. I got a decent interval, then the contractions started again. They were strong, just like labour. They demanded my full attention and I had to make a sound. A couple of these and no placenta yet. Angus was passed to Lola for a hold and I managed to stand up beside the bed. 7:15 That did it, relief again. The bowl was only just big enough, quite a lot of placenta! I got back into bed and sitting up again. Angus went to his Daddy for a cuddle while Maryse checked out the placenta. It was on a little table beside the bed so I got to have a good look this time. All OK. I was astonished at how big it was. Angus came back to Mummy and had a bit of a go on left breast. The afterpains continued and were surprisingly painful. And I hadn’t even had the syntometrine needle this time. Later another midwife told me the afterpains get worse with each child. Great! We had brought the wheat bags my kids made me, and these felt good around my tummy to ease the after pains. You just bung them in the microwave for a couple of minutes. They’re great for some sore backs, cold achy knees and cold bums too.

    The good news, however, is that this time there is no tear and no graze, none at all. When I nervously went to the toilet to try to wee, I had my bowls of warm water ready to pour over myself, I remembered the stinging from the last two times. How lovely to find I’m able to go without any water and it doesn’t hurt. Fantastic!

    I discover also that Lindsay has been filming and photographing the entire event to a much greater extent than I realised and, that he has managed to get most all of the pre-birth and birth onto film and photograph. The photos are great, and I’m absolutely thrilled with the video, which I haven’t had before. It’s so wonderful to see my baby being born for the first time; I’m delighted.

    Some awful breakfast arrived, but there was bread & tea stuff, so Lindsay made us some Vegemite toast and a cuppa. Lindsay left Lola with me and went to pick up Ruth from school at 9:00. At 10:00 Ruth arrived to meet her baby brother. It was a pity she wasn’t there for the birth, but at least she can see the photos and video if she wants to. The girls are besotted with their little brother, and Mummy and Daddy adore him. My Mum visited at the hospital, and looked after the kids while Lindsay helped me have a shower. Back into a nice clean bed, (giving birth is a messy business) and lunch arrived. It was completely inedible, but we found some biscuits and still had some juice boxes. The food we had planned to bring was for the family to eat as well as nibblies for me. We just had to wait for Angus to be weighed and have his doctor’s check, and we were out of there, home by mid afternoon. Straight up to bed for me, where I pretty much stayed for a few days, my darling man Lindsay taking excellent care of me as he always does. Angus fed really well, latching on like a little crocodile, & thriving. Now we are five.

  2. #2

    Join Date
    Jan 2005
    Location
    Funky Town, Vic
    Posts
    7,070

    Default

    Wow - Angus's birth was SO similar to Mitchells. The lonely feeling, inability to communicate, frightening pain that wasn't expected even though I had done it all before. AND the terrible, terrible food.
    I've learnt a lot from this story and I'll do anything to make sure I don't feel that way again.

    Thanks Yvette, I'll be sure to chat with you about this in the future.!

  3. #3

    Join Date
    Feb 2005
    Location
    Mid North Coast NSW
    Posts
    2,504

    Default

    Yvette - what an amazing birth story! thank you so much for sharing it...i feel like i have just been through it with you!!! well done!

    .....cant wait to read your others - i have just run out of time but will be back to read on (did it in the wrong order though!)

    it really is so well written! =D>

  4. #4

    Join Date
    Jul 2004
    Location
    House of the crazy cat ladies...
    Posts
    3,793

    Default

    Yvette.... thankyou for sharing another truly amazing birth story with us! =D>
    You write so well, and I feel like I am there in the room with you. It is wonderful to be able to read about a labour from such a detailed perspective... thankyou!

    I will get onto reading your remaining 2 birth stories shortly...

Posting Permissions

  • You may not post new threads
  • You may not post replies
  • You may not post attachments
  • You may not edit your posts
  •