[Sorry - this is very long and rather self-indulgent. Forgive me!]
Phoebe Grace's birth - 31st May 2009
After a great birth almost 2 and a half years earlier, I was really keen to have another go. Throughout this pregnancy I tried to remain positive and excited about the birth, and to prepare as best I could, me being the laziest person I know.
So I bought the Pink Kit and New Active Birth, filled my mind with the awesome birthing stories of my friends and people I didn't know. Dave and I had decided that we would have two children. So: this was my last pregnancy, my last birth. My mantra was, make the most of this precious experience.
My positive headspace was challenged by my antenatal care. I felt disadvantaged by opting for GP/shared care in that at my hospital appointments I was assigned to obstetrician care, rather than midwife care. This was silly to me simply because the chances of my needing a doctor at my birth were remote and my pregnancy, aside from slightly elevated blood pressure, was normal and healthy.
The first negative dent in my labour was delivered at my 40 week appointment at the hospital - induction talk for the following week. I knew in myself that I would be comfortable negotiating for longer if we needed it, but decided to do everything I could, well, as much as was realistic for me, being the laziest person I know, to avoid the appointment altogether.
I had my first acupuncture appointment the day after Phoebe's due date, then another appointment the following afternoon. That night, I experienced tightenings that woke me early in the morning. Different to Braxton Hicks - lower down. Through the mild discomfort I smiled, make the most of this precious experience.
I had something to eat at around 3:30am (hey, I was pregnant - pregnant ladies reserve the right to eat whenever they jolly well like) and then went back to bed to try to rest. The next morning, the pains had gone. Sadly, this was the next dent in my positive headspace. Last time once the labour pains began they didn't stop. They just ramped up until Natalie was born. I tried to tell myself that prelabour was good - it was preparing my body and it meant that Phoebe would be coming soon.
Natalie was a wonderful distraction that day, and by her bedtime the tightenings had returned, coming about every 20 minutes.
I went to bed, hoping that things would ramp up overnight. Again, I got up at 3:30am for a quick snack and to bounce on the fit ball. I was temped to get out the breastpump but... laziest person I know. Dave came downstairs and found me on said ball, asked what was going on. I was pretty self-absorbed and not very good at keeping him in the loop. "I'm cramming," I told him, indicating the Pink Kit DVD on the telly, trying to get my head around the 'Pelvic Clock'. I told him to go and get some more rest and I too went back to sleep finding it more comfy on the lounge so I was semi-reclined.
I was really annoyed the following morning to discover the tightenings had stopped again, even though I'd taken myself on a walk up and down our steep driveway. I hopped in the shower and told this child in no uncertain terms was she to keep me waiting much longer. Dave phoned Mum and asked her to come and look after Natalie. We were going to try to get these contractions to come back.
Natty happily went off with Grandma, and we took ourselves off for a longer walk. Dave chatted away, a calming presence as we walked along. We also had a chuckle at the 'Pelvic Clock'. The contractions did indeed return and at times I felt I needed to stop and breathe through them. I was happy they had come back, although I knew it was early days because they were very short in duration, on average coming every 10 minutes.
We went back home and had something to eat. I was pleased to receive an sms from a BellyBelly friend announcing the birth of her daughter. I jumped onto BB to post an announcement for her and was tempted to start a 'vent' thread entitled, "I thought second labours were supposed to be quicker ", and have a rant about all these prelabour contractions, which were still coming every 10 minutes as I typed, straddling the dining chair, but lasting only 20 seconds at the most.
Instead I emailed my sister-in-law and confessed that while I knew I was almost in labour, my head wasn't in the right place. She replied quickly, asking me what was holding me back. I shook my head. I didn't know.
I was cold and I was tired. I took myself upstairs for a shower and a lie down. I had a good cry too. Something in that seemed to free me up - as I tried to rest I felt the contractions coming more strongly, though they were still only short. I needed to hum through them to control my breathing and ensure I stayed relaxed.
After a while I came back downstairs and got back on the computer. The contractions were coming stronger still, sometimes more than every 10 minutes and it became harder to concentrate and indeed to stay sitting down. Dave and I noted after a little longer that it was closer to every 5 minutes and I was struggling a bit with my breathing. I was more noisy now too - the humming didn't always cut it.
Dave suggested that we call the hospital. While I was speaking to the midwife I had two contractions and breathed through them. She told me it sounded like I was coping really well and said we could come in if we wanted, or if I was happy to stay at home I could try a shower or a bath.
I decided to jump in the bath. (Figure of speech, of course. I was the elephant lady - I wasn't jumping anywhere.) The bath didn't do much for me. I wanted it hot, but when the contractions came it was too hot and I needed a cold compress for my face. I also felt a bit cramped and squashed - I preferred standing during the contractions.
I got out after a short time, needing to pee. Whenever I moved I'd get a seriously intense contraction - they were coming much closer together now.
I sat on the toilet and the intensity of the next contraction was quite overwhelming. Dave asked if we needed to go and I told him yes, call the hospital. I remember thinking, "good heavens, I need some serious drugs" and then in the next thought, "this is the last time you'll do this. Make the most of this precious experience," and managed with Dave's help to get dressed again (though I use the term 'dressed' loosely. I was wearing my pink & white striped pyjama pants and a too-small fleece jumper that was definitely not maternity wear. To top off the ensemble I donned a pair of crocs.)
The car ride was pretty close to excruciating. I sat forward in my seat and moaned my way through what felt like continuous contractions. It was probably only 10 minutes' drive if that, and if I was capable of focussed thought I'd've counted down the seconds. Dave parked in the loading zone and we waddled into the building. I imagine the people waiting outside the women's health dept had a good chuckle at the moaning-pyjama-croc-fatty who almost missed the lift cause she had her face buried in her husband's shoulder as she carried on.
The walk to the birthing unit was really long! I hadn't realised because I hadn't gotten around to doing the tour. When we finally got there a midwife buzzed us in and we were then greeted by Sally, our midwife who directed us to room 8, saying she'd see us there in a minute. With the hustle and bustle of the busy birth unit, the promise of yet another excruciating walk, I almost collapsed with panic. I gripped hold of Dave as another contraction hit, my breathing techniques forgotten as I whispered, "I can't do this!". As this one subsided, I realised that yes, even though the contractions were short, I was actually in labour (funny - I'd been in denial that it was really happening). Later on I'd realise that this was a transition moment. I was feeling the need to wee again - a lot of pressure on my bladder and pain that radiated down the front of my legs.
We were in the birth suite and Sally was telling me to go and see if I could have a wee before she examined me. I didn't need to be asked twice - the pressure on my bladder was still pretty full on. Dave needed to move the car, so he ducked out at that point. When I sat on the toilet again, the intensity increased. I tentatively pushed, thinking it was strange that I felt like I needed to pee but nothing was coming out. When I pushed I felt relieved, so I did it again.
Sally's voice came through the door, "Amy, are you feeling pressure in your bottom?" I grunted some sort of affirmation between pushes. "Best not stay on there too long then. Come on out and let me see where we're at."
I got up with difficulty, then made my way over to the bed. Lying down wasn't my favourite, but the new relief that bearing down during contractions brought made it bearable. "You sound like you're wanting to push already." Sally was bright and bubbly, conversational and extremely calm. Again, I grunted in the affirmative. She walked past and readjusted my leg so she could see what was going on. "Oh, wow. Ok. Clever girl. Push away then."
Somewhere in there Dave arrived back. He did an amazing job speaking for me. He fed me water and asked that the bed be adjusted so that I was sitting up a bit more. Sally finally finished doing whatever she was doing with my notes and made sure I was indeed fully dilated. She offered to break my waters. I shook my head no. She said ok, but she felt that was all that was holding me up. So I agreed. She touched the membrane and it ruptured. It would've gone in the next contraction anyway.
Then there were more people there. People introducing themselves and chatting away as though they were at a ****tail party. I thought, "I wonder if they expect me to be polite?" I was too busy pushing so hard I was bursting the capillaries in my face.
Dave told Sally about the requests in our birth plan. We wanted to delay the cord clamping. Sally nodded - no problem. And I wanted to try for a physiological third stage. Sally was hesitant but agreed to let me try.
She guided me through as I pushed, telling me calmly that if I pushed hard then took a deep breath and pushed again in the same contraction that would stop the baby's head from moving back up again. I tried hard, though the pushing made me feel incredibly faint and I wondered if I'd pass out.
Everyone was so encouraging - still ****tail-party-pleasant and calm, telling me what a good one that was and how well I was doing. It was exactly what I needed.
When Sally told me the head was crowning and I was going to feel a burning sensation, I was thrilled. This bit was really fascinating last time.
"HOLY CRAP!" This time I felt like I was going to tear from here to there. It was burning alright, all over. I panted when Sally directed me to, and was relieved when I was told that the head was out. I caught my breath and in the next couple of pushes her body slithered out too. She was put on my tummy and I felt so incredibly relieved to see that tiny little purple body, that gorgeous little head of dark hair, and to hear that tiny little cough and then a hearty cry.
Phoebe Grace was born at 5:12pm, weighed 3.46kg, was 50.5cm long with a HC of 34cm. She didn't cry for long and once the cord was clamped I finally was able to see her darling little face. She has 'stork marks' on her eyelids, slightly darker hair and a slightly wider nose, but otherwise looks very much like her sister did. She latched onto the breast pretty much straight away.
The placenta came in about 5 minutes. I was so pleased with myself. But then I started to bleed too much, so needed a couple of shots to stop it. Still, I was happy that I gave it a go, and I feel like I made the most of it.
Phoebe is a real sweety, and the perfect completion to our little family.
Oh hun, what a gorgeous story, makes me want to do it again! LOL.
Congratulations again on (what I'm sure is ) you gorgeous little girl. I can't wait to meet her one day!
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Phoebe Grace's birth
", and have a rant about all these prelabour contractions, which were still coming every 10 minutes as I typed, straddling the dining chair, but lasting only 20 seconds at the most.
you rock man.
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