My birth story, as long as the Ocean (Princess) is big lol
ASHTON JAMES’ BIRTH STORY DECEMBER 18 2009
Long journey, long story....
Our journey to get Ashton into the world was long and at times painful. It involved three years of waiting including two IVF/ICSI cycles (that’s where they have to put the sperm into the egg), lots of drugs, two failed embryo transfers and more patience than I could muster at times.
But alas, on March 23, 2009 12 embryos from our second fully stimulated IVF cycle were removed. Eleven of those eggs were fertilised and five days later, three blastocyst stage embryos remained. (the others died or were not good enough quality to keep).
Saturday, March 28 one A-grade embryo was transferred. As the doctor put it inside me, I actually felt the little air bubble in my womb. It was a strange experience. She told me she had delivered 8 babies in 11 hours before doing the transfer for our FS, who had to go away unexpectedly! good omen perhaps?
We were sent away with orders to take it easy for a few days and return for a blood test nine days later. After the disappointment of the two previous transfers which did not take, I was not feeling particularly optimistic and just tried to get on with life as much as possible.
The journey had been tough and I was feeling drained. I had already mapped out my plan ‘when this one doesn’t work’ and when ‘the remaining two don’t take’ that involved one more stim cycle and then calling it a day on our family dream.
“Sometimes you just have to accept what hand you’ve been dealt," I told myself.
Over those nine days I tried desperately not to read into every little twinge and pull and as a result convinced myself that this one had not worked either. On Monday, April 6 my husband and I went for our blood test. It was before work in the morning and I could get the result that afternoon. But as I had fallen apart at work twice before and given it wouldn’t be the result I wanted to hear anyway, or so I thought, I gave James the task of calling the clinic. He was to tell me the news when I saw him after work, about 5.15pm. He promised.
He rang the clinic and then realising we had not arranged something for dinner and wanting me to bring home food, rang me at work that afternoon. The conversation went something like this:
“Did you ring the clinic?” I asked.
“Yes,’’ he said.
“Well..."
“You didn’t want to know til this arvo. But we need something for dinner," he said, in a calm, even voice. Hmm, no clue there.
“Okay, well I really want to log a good run (I was doing about 9km a day) this arvo. Just tell me if I can at least, finally go for a run (two weeks of not running was killing me!)."
.... silence....
“You won’t be going for a run for quite some time darling. You are pregnant!”
As you can imagine, there was a squeal; several ‘are you sure’; and plenty of ‘oh, my god!’. I left work early.
The pregnancy went well, however, at 30 weeks James had to go away for 8 weeks, which later got extended to 9 weeks. So the final stretch of my pregnancy was extremely stressful and tiresome. I was paranoid I would go early. And given we are in the defence forces, I was mostly alone with fly by visits from far away family.
Ashton was due on December 14 but everyone was predicting an early arrival pft. James got home on December 4 and went back to work while I spent a lot of time sleeping and eating.
The hot summer had zapped my energy, my belly was 120cm round (i’m 1.7m tall!) and I was over it.
The due date came, and went and I started to be concerned that the baby would arrive on Christmas Day or after. I did not want him to have a birthday on Christmas Day or between then and New Year.
Due to a single umbilical artery and a slowing in the bub’s movements, I was monitored pretty regular the week I was due. Eventually on the Wednesday I was told I would be induced on the Monday, December 21 if the baby didn’t arrive before then.
So home we trudged. I got on my fitball and nearly bounced myself into outer space. I went for a long waddle (about 5kms) and a swim. I ate a curry; just about inhaled a whole raspberry tree; and pushed pressure points til my thumbs hurt all to no avail. This kid didn’t seem like he was coming out at all!
On Thursday, December 17 after my daily hounding of: “you had that kid yet?" calls and texts, I decided to go to bed, without my phone, early and read Juju Sundin’s Birth Skills book... again. I was not a happy little (oops I mean huge) wife and my mood got worse when 2 cocharoaches and a moth attacked me viciously within about 5 minutes of one another. I nearly had heart failure, I hate creepy crawlies.
However, these seemed to have done the trick. At 1.20am Friday, December 18 I woke from my sleep to my own groaning and having tummy pains.
Ever the optimist, I thought “oh great, now I’m in false labour".
I got up and went to the lounge so as not to disturb James. Over the next hour the pains got more intense and I got James up at 2.30am to come and time them to see if there was a pattern.
At this point they got so painful I couldn’t talk during the contractions and they were 4 minutes apart. A call to the birthing suite, which is about 30 minutes away, was made with the instructions to get in there ASAP.
So we packed up the car with all the stuff I had prepared. This still took a bit of time but it worked well as I waddled around getting last minute stuff organised, armed with my stress balls, I would stop and bang the wall with each contraction. But the packing up kept me occupied that the pain didn’t seem too bad.... until I got into the car.
Once we were in the car the contractions seem to slow... and intensify. I got a particularly nasty contraction just as we went over 100m of traffic-calming bumps on the highway! OUCH!
We arrived at the hospital about 5am. James was chuffed he got ‘the good, no fee’ carpark. I was chuffed to get out of the car.
We were shown to our lovely huge birthing suite where I proceeded to tell the midwife my suspicion that it was “just a false start”. Eventually she said to me, “honey, you ARE in labour’’. That’s when I sort of freaked a little – it was happening. Our lives were about to change forever!
I felt so excited, and nervous and scarred all at once!
I was put on the bed for monitoring but the midwife seemed happy to keep me there. In the end I told her I couldn’t lay there anymore as the contractions were terribly painful.
So I got up, and James strapped the Tens machine we had hired to me. What a great relief. I used that and my stress balls with humming for a little while. For some reason I would go to a wall and bang my balls on the wall trying to always hit the same colour to the same point on the wall. Thanks Juju!
Pretty soon I needed to have more relief for the pain. So got on the gas. James and I had already agreed we would dial the gas down low to start and try to only put it up when I needed it. I wanted a natural a birth as possible and didn’t want drugs.
I wasn’t very good at doing the gas at first but with James’ help soon got the hang of it. I sat on a fit ball bounced, sucked in gas and James dialled up the Tens during contractions. He sat opposite me, very close, in a chair. It was so lovely and special. We talked and laughed and hugged between the contractions.
He was the most amazing support. He kept me focussed. Kept his voice low and calm, told me to look in his eyes and hold his gaze. He was my rock, I couldn’t have done it without him. But he did get a bit upset when he saw how much pain I was in.
I did still manage though to peg two stress balls at him and tell him where he could put them. LOL. Seems he wanted me to squeeze the bejesus out of the balls and not his arm. I won that little battle. hahhaha
Eventually the Tens machine was maxed out and I decided to get in the warm shower. I had two contractions, which were now coming fast, while the gas was hooked up to the shower. But standing up with the warm water on my back, I managed them okay. This is when things get a bit hazy.
James changed in his boardies and we got in the shower. I was only in there a short time when I got the overwhelming urge to push. Then the membranes ruptured, finally.
So out of the shower we hop and an internal exam found I was 9.5cm dilated. And no, it’s too late for that epidural I had suddenly decided I wanted to avail myself of.
From there I remember being on the bed and pushing for dear life. I seemed to take forever but in reality was only about 20 minutes or so. I had no gas, no drugs, nada. And I felt it!
It was very painful and at first I wasn’t pushing correctly. The midwife kept telling me to “get angry’’ and push and I kept saying “but I’m not angry”. What did help though was hearing the baby’s heartbeat and James telling me I was doing an amazing job. At this time the midwife had one leg, James had the other and the obst was centre field.
At one stage they put up a mirror so I could see the head. I found this very distracting and totally stuffed up the pushing during those contractions. I also didn’t like feeling the crowning head. This pushing phase was the scariest and most challenging time, I would lose my focus easily but eventually found my inner strength and got down to business.
I had a bit of trouble pushing him around the "S bend". After what felt like eternity, the baby’s head crowned. It got half out and the contraction stopped. So I had to wait for another one while the obstetrician carefully eased the head a little more out. This was the most painful time, it felt like I was splitting in half and burning up all in one.
Mercifully, the contraction came and the doctor told me to reach down. Thinking they wanted me to touch the head again I said no. She then said, “reach down and grab your baby”.
I pulled him from my body and put him on my chest at 9.24am, December 18. Just 8 hours after labour started and on my parent's 33rd wedding anniversay. James was crying and so was Ashton. I was in shock and apparently just said "oh.... mmmmmyyyy... goooddddnnneeessss". (i didn't even swear the whole time!)
He was pretty clean, not a lot of gunk on him and we had over an hour of skin-to-skin. He didn’t latch on to feed though and as a result had some issues.
We all had a little cuddle, took some pics and then called my mum, james' parents and my dad (who was at work). It was lovely as everyone was expecting me to be induced on the Monday so they were all caught a little off guard and there were tears all round.
The doctor, who happened to be the lady who put that tiny little embryo in was also the doctor who helped me birth my baby - so maybe those 8 babies she delivered the day of the transfer were a good omen! Apparently ALL the transfers that day took!
Today my gorgeous Ashton is 3.5 months old and beautiful. I’m so proud of myself for achieving my drug-free (but not pain free) birth. But I do think next time (if one of those 2 embryos in the freezer takes) I will opt for some stronger pain medication.
Ash was 50.5 cm long, 3260 grams and had a lovely head full of hair.
*please note I am not implying in my title that Ocean Princess is in any way overweight, i'm just having a little joke with her :)
thank you for reading my long long story. :dance:
