Elliott's Arrival (aka My Friend the Gas Bottle) *long*
I was trying to be patient and knew first babies could be a week or more late, but it was hard because at 39 weeks I started all of the signs of the labour warm up – Braxton Hicks, cramps, the runs, stabbing effacement pains all of the time. Sometimes it all seemed to be leading somewhere so when my due date of 11 November rolled around I was pretty upset. I started to go out more often and try and “forget” about it, and on Saturday morning the 14th my waters finally broke at four am after a great night out at Gold Class with Mum watching the movie 2012.
I was excited since contractions started about an hour afterwards and I thought I was on my way to a natural birth without complication. I rang everyone and woke Mum. A check up on Saturday showed everything was fine. I had a bit of cry on the way to hospital to be checked cause I thought it was all finally happening and life was about to change. I was laughing with all of the pad changes and embarrassment of waters that kept leaking all day while hanging out with with my birth partner, Ian. I tried to sleep Saturday night as normal and managed okay.
Sunday at 5am I was a bit concerned since the waters has stopped leaking and there was some blood. The birth centre told me it was normal and to ring back for a time to be monitored. Later that morning when I spoke to them they kept trying to shuffle me round cause they were busy and I was annoyed. We got a last minute appointment and Mum drove me in.
The check up at the labour ward went well until they decided I might be borderline with pre-eclampsia. They kept me waiting for ages, even in the waiting room at one stage and I was so upset and worried my contractions stopped and I started crying. They had been a minute long, seven minutes apart but not strong. Finally we booked an induction date for Monday morning, although they were full and I had to jump through hoops for a bed.
I went home and sobbed myself to sleep cause by then I was feeling “not special” and really pushed to the bottom of their lists and that no-one was really looking after me in the birth centre or labour ward very well and it had been that way for a while during the pregnancy. I was exhausted and disappointed I wouldn’t get a chance to go into labour naturally and I didn’t want the induction.
My doula, Jackie, suggested I distract myself so I threw an impromptu dinner party for my friend Marnie and her family. I was in a singlet and knickers with my pads on and thought the whole thing great fun and contractions started through dinner. After everyone left at 8.30 pm I started timing them cause they were quite strong. I wanted to call my doula but was worried they would stop again if I got stressed so it wasn’t until about ten pm I finally called and by that stage I’d started to curl up into a ball and not remember what to do at all.
We went from 6-7 minutes apart lasting 50 seconds into weird cluster type contractions backing onto each other and I started to get a bit panicky cause it felt like it was going too quickly. I decided we’d better call my birth partner Ian, although I was still feeling fine between the contractions – enough to make him buy a Vodafone recharge for my mobile on the way. By the time he arrived around 1.15am or so I was at the crying stage and feeling pretty weird about the whole thing – I wanted a shower, gas and an internal to check how far along I was when I got to the hospital. I was shaky on the car trip with five contractions in about ten minutes or so, hugging my pillow and crying.
We got to the birth centre and T. was the midwife on duty. It was quiet and empty and dark but I didn’t feel welcome with her asking if we’d called first. The shower was lovely though and I thought I was ready for the internal but that was a horrible violating experience for me and totally not what I’d thought with extreme pain. I asked about gas but was kinda hummed and hawed at by the midwife until I insisted.
Up until then I wasn’t really sure what I needed Ian to do and was still not really needing the support of two people but by the time I sat down on the beanbags and Jackie and Ian were getting hot packs I really needed one on both sides so was grateful for two people! I actually really enjoyed the hour or so I was using the gas on the beanbags. I loved having my own pillow from home, and I was stoned enough from the gas to be a bit chatty and loved up and I think I felt like I was on a camping trip or something odd – all out under the stars on the ground with good friends. I was a little concerned I felt the contractions were too close, too soon but trusted Jackie and Ian to look after me.
It fell apart for me not long after 4am when the contractions started getting much worse and T. wanted me to change positions and get in the shower. She also tried to swap the gas bottles over and was fumbling. When she went back to the first bottle I decided it was only for placebo effect while she tried to get another bottle and was convinced everyone was lying to me about it still having gas. Then the gas stopped working for me for a bit since I couldn’t breathe through the contractions with it and I started quite primal screaming sessions!
The screaming was three-quarters pain related but also I was so mad by then. It was partly due to being talked around and talked over and I lost trust in T. because by then I’d heard a few things like,” Crying is good for them, it helps let down oxytocin” and words to Jackie that were kind of condescending like “Never check about pain relief when they are having a contraction”. Not to mention I couldn’t have my heat pack when I’d been told you could during the planning sessions. I wanted to be talked to and still treated intelligently and given all of the truth and I thought that wasn’t happening.
When I tried to explain to the T. why I felt I wasn’t coping and all of the “not feeling special” things that had happened up to that point to make me sad and tired she brushed them aside with, “Well, you’re here now, that’s all done with” when I wanted a bit more understanding. It made me fell like she really didn’t even like me and I was a pain she could only barely tolerate. By then I was back in the shower and really not liking the birth centre. It felt big and sterile and I didn’t want on the big bed, I didn’t want to move around the space and the filled bath made me feel like I’d be trapped in it with my contractions if I got in.
I thought maybe transition was happening in the shower since I felt some pressure in my backside, plus the contractions seemed sooo strong and on top of one another and I was beginning to melt down. I was frustrated and wanted to know exactly where I was in the whole process cause it didn’t seem to be going right, and was far worse than I’d thought. So I asked for the morphine and even though I was scared of the internal again I wanted more pain relief, but again was mad at the talking down attitude from the midwife before I got it. I’d pretty much packed it in mentally by then with the birth centre and when the morphine did nothing but dull my urge to scream a little I wanted out to the doctors and the hospital area with more people in it and an epidural. Especially since I think I was only five cms by then. That was around about 6am and I was up to eight hours of very painful contractions I couldn’t talk through, after two days of pre-labour.
Even though I was told I’d have to wait an hour or so for the epidural I still wanted to wait in the labour side since I didn’t feel safe any more in the birth center side and it was a final insult to me I had to sit on the couch near the exit while T. took a phone call before she would take me across the corridor. I guess she didn’t understand why I wanted out cause I wasn’t really articulate by then and felt myself withdrawing from everyone and giving up. I felt like a failure.
By the time I was in the shower over in the delivery ward the morphine had zonked me out enough I actually passed out on and off and remember hitting my head on something in the shower stall, and having odd disconnected dreams. The pain seemed quite distant and like it was slowing down but I was also pretty sure I wasn’t going to make it and maybe I’d die, and that was okay by me. I’d really wanted a kid but it wasn’t going to work out and it was all going to fade out was what I was thinking. Pretty dramatic but I felt catatonic and unable to talk to anyone. When I had to wait even longer than expected I was kinda accepting of my fate and kept looking at the clock.
Getting the epidural in felt like I was in the movies or on a birth reality show. Everything was exactly like you see on TV. It was such a relief when it started to work. Although I was shocked by the possibility of spinal headaches and then to be told the baby was posterior and too high really was the last straw. I wish I’d known and I never would have tried the birth centre. But because I was being told the truth, and there were lots of staff who all came in and introduced themselves and talked to me the whole way through about my options and timelines, I felt in safe hands.
I was told I had four hours of drugs to try and turn the baby otherwise it was emergency c-section or perhaps an attempt to turn the kid and bring him down. I felt a little bit better knowing I wasn’t such a wuss after all when they told me I’d been having a posterior labour.
It got harder and harder to sleep and be comfortable as the induction drugs were pumped in – my back was so sore it was like all the pain was tunneling into pressure spots on my back and I couldn’t sleep. I was also really hungry, and felt pretty traumatized by the labour up to that point. With my legs feeling so dead and the shakes settling in, about half way through the epidural hours I did wonder if it was even worth it, and maybe I should have had a c-section and be done with it. But I knew I’d be really upset with the recovery.
I did have zero faith though the baby would turn and drop, so I was totally stunned when they announced I was fully dilated, and would be able to push him out, or as a last resort have the vacuum. It was an incredible relief. But I was still pretty distrustful of the process and scared about having the epidural turned down because I didn’t want to feel my stomach or contractions again. My stomach felt beaten and torn to shreds. So having the epidural still half on and having gas while I pushed to dull the stomach pains was brilliant. I did need a lot of reassurance – Jackie stroking my face helped, and to be constantly reminded to relax my face helped too.
Pushing was actually the best part of the whole experience. The urge was overwhelming and it didn’t hurt at all – the only thing stopping me from pushing hard the whole time was I felt like my eyes and forehead were going to explode with the straining. I felt like Arnie in Total Recall with no oxygen and was visualizing things popping on my face! It was in between the pushes that my tender stomach throbbed. I didn’t really know how well I was going with the pushing until the midwives switched over and I got an honest assessment. I was told possibly another ten minutes of pushing, which was the only moment I had of “no, I can’t keep going” because it seemed so long, but when she threatened an episiotomy and then told me she could see the head, and I felt the head when trying to push on my side, I realized I was actually going to have a baby after all.
I started to get excited and so I think I managed a few extra good pushes. Seeing the look on my doula’s face change suddenly, and hearing the midwife talk about pushing through the stinging sensation I knew I must be close. Although it was gross to touch the head between my legs. It felt wet and warm and slimy and reminded me of seeing a cow give birth! Didn’t need any more reminders of how animalistic the whole process was cause I was already starting to feel embarrassed about the screaming and carry on over at the birth centre.
The last few minutes seemed to fly past and I found it impossible not to push when told to breathe but did manage while still arguing with the midwife about if I could push or not. I found out later the cord was around his neck, and that’s one thing I’m glad I wasn’t told at the time. I think it’s right not to tell the mother something when there is no choice as to options or actions she can decide to take in the situation! In total I was only pushing for 25 mins which was amazing I was told for a first time Mum. And I only had one small internal graze that they decided to stitch just to make sure it didn't bleed.
So although I am really still quite upset about the whole birth centre experience and having "failed" over there, and I do wish I'd known bub was posterior, I feel very proud I managed to push him out so well after 18 hours of active labour!
