My birth

This needs to be done.
On Sunday night, after meeting with my midwife and her telling me that she had to go away to Perth for two days starting that night, I was laying in bed putting Ewan to sleep when I felt a very weird gurgle, then a pop. It was my waters breaking, and I had to call tim into the room to get me a towel as I was too freaked out to move. The first thoughts that flashed through my head were "The midwife is gone." And "my waters have broken, now I am on a time limit." probably not the best way to start out labour but there I was.*
I called the midwifes husband who was slightly mortified to hear what was going on, and he gave me the number of the backup midwife. She agrees to come to my house and assess what was going on. No actual labour at this point, but i started wondering what I could do to bring it on. Wandering around the house seemed to help, and a few mild contractions started up. Back up midwife arrived and let me know that yes, I would be on a schedule now that my waters had *broken, if things weren't progressing by a certain time, then interventions and antibiotics would start to be discussed. Obviously they don't fit in very well with a hoped for home birth, so we were keen to get the show on the road. Lots of walking around started things off, and I was doing on when I hit a super tired spot around 10:30. Knowing hoe crap labouring was when you're tired, I decided to take the chance to rest up and went to sleep on the couch for an hour or so. Waking at midnight, my body seemed keen to get into it, and walking and standing were definitely the best help. Kneeling must have been too relaxing as contractions would stop every time.*
They started to come closer together, and I was having to focus a lot harder and "aaaaaaaaahhhh" through them. It was really encouraging and I welcomed each one, knowing it would help bring us closer to our baby inside the deadline.*
At about three they died down, and then Ewan woke up and started to freak, so I had to put him back to sleep. That took forever and things definitely stalled after that. so I decided to have another rest while I could, and grabbed another nap. By then everyone was up anyway and them midwife was due to come over soon. When she arrived I agreed to one internal exam, just because she thought perhaps a stretch and sweep might help us hurry things along without intervention. When she checked I was already 3cm and very "soft" - I couldn't even tell when she did the stretch and sweep as the cervix was already to flexible! this was really encouraging and made me feel like I'd been progressing in the night. She could feel baby's head although he hadnt totally dropped down she seemed to think it would be a matter of time once I dilated a little more.*
Ewan was picked up for the day by my friend, so we were able to get back to the task of getting things moving. With the threat of antibiotics looming, We thought we'd try nipple stimulation and this got things going again straight away. It was actually amazing, feeling these contractions coming, and welcoming each one positively as another step closer to baby. They were getting so intense, but they were never bigger than myself, never more than I could handle. Tim felt things were going so well that he called the midwife. When she arrived and watched me for a while, she felt so confident that birthing was imminent that she called the second midwife and Tim and her started preparing things in the background.*
I don't know if this made any difference or not, but around then my parents arrived. I felt things slow down straight away, until my dad left again, but they never picked up back to where they'd been before. So very disappointing. I changed rooms to get away from everyone and was able to bring on a few more contractions but nothing like before. I felt like I totally lost my rhythm.*
About 5:30 the midwife said she was going to insist on another internal to see how things were going, as the doctor they work in collaboration with was breathing down her neck and wanted to know ho things were progressing. By now this was starting to feel a bit nightmarish and very reminiscent of my first birth. And the result was the same - only just 4cm, baby still high, cervix felt very long. After all that work I'd been so sure we were close, it was so shattering to hear the almost exact same thing as the first time, "you're only at 4cm, things aren't progressing, baby's head is turned slightly oddly, and we need to go to the hospital."*
What choice we had by now felt like zero. It was almost 24 hours since my water had broken, and they wanted to start me on antibiotics and syntocin. Really upsetting to hear, but off we went. I did somehow manage to stay fairly calm, I just couldn't allow myself to consider that I might not progress, even with the drugs. What was wrong with my body, or my babies, that I can't seem to deliver them on my own?*
Arrived, had big stinking needle inserted into my arm, tried my best to remain cheerful even though it was the last place I wanted to be. they gave me the first dose of antibiotics and started me on the syntocin straight away. It wasn't long before *felt the contractions start to amp up, and immediately they were different to any I had felt before. Before long I was having to vocalize really loudly, and sitting on the fit ball became too much, I had to stand again. Assisted contractions differ from regular contractions because they are in fact not your body, they are something outside you and is working on you, and they become so much more difficult to get through. The midwife suggested I change my tactic to breathing through quietly rather than vocalizing too much, and to be honest by this point thats more that I needed, as I was having a difficult time coping. I had to have another internal at 10pm, *which I asked to not have to lay down because I couldn't imagine suffering through a contraction laying down. The midwife agreed and found I was 7cm, enough to keep everyone happy that I was progressing. still she amped up the syntocin even more. It sucked sucked sucked. Every one was agony and hurt and was bigger than me, and I struggled to hold onto myself through it all. Eventually I ended up on my knees due to pure exhaustion (standing through contractions for 24 hours will do that) and had a few with one knee raised - complete agony. I was begging for it to stop, wanting to rip the drip out of my arm, once contraction way from begging for a c section. Then the last one did the trick - baby finally turned that last little bit and wham- was engaged. Suddenly pushing was all on. Again totally different to pushing with Ewan. Intense, exhausting, barely any break between overwhelming surges. I was making the most horrible primal screams and groans, that goodness there were no other women on the ward. I felt every centimeter as he descended, and 15 minutes later, they told me his head was out. The relief when they finally pulled his body out was so intense that I yelled "oh my God that felt good!" and there was my boy, tiny and fresh.
Of course I was happy and relieved and so on, but I am still having a lot of trouble dealing with this birth. It felt horrible and traumatic in a way that Ewan's never did, out of my control. I felt cheated of my birth experience, what I felt I deserved, what I'd worked so hard for. Everyone tells me I was awesome and a champion, but I don't feel that way at all.*