It’s been seven years since I started my parenting journey. My daughter was born at 1:30 a.m. on a Friday after what felt like weeks of labour (it was about 24 hours). I’d like to say that I had a plan and that my first birth experience went smoothly, but since I’m aiming to be completely honest, it was the complete opposite.
About halfway through my pregnancy, I developed gestational hypertension. I’d already had several complications earlier on, but this was the worst of the lot. I’d never experienced any problems with high blood pressure before, so it all came as a bit of a shock.
I remember a consultant telling me that there was no other option but to induce me as my blood pressure would only get worse if we waited until my due date. It must have been bad because the midwife who took my blood pressure at the appointment refused to tell me the reading!
Preparing for the big day
In the two days leading up to the date of the induction, I was so nervous and didn’t have a clue what to expect. The hospital gave me some leaflets but I relied on Google to provide me with most of the information on the induction process.
Bad idea, as every time I look up anything on there I’m apparently dying.
As the day approached, I busied myself with preparing the hospital bag and the husband went out to get some snacks for our stay at the hospital. He arrived home with the biggest stash of food I’ve ever seen (and a bloody good selection too!).
It didn’t last long!
The big day arrives!
After what felt like a long wait (it was only two days), the big day was here! We arrived at the hospital at around 2 p.m. and prepared ourselves for a long wait as it was extremely busy. I was getting more and more nervous by the minute (which no doubt contributed to the high blood pressure!).
Nearly two hours and a much-dreaded blood pressure check later, I was sent to the induction ward. There, we waited for another two hours before a doctor finally arrived to put the pessary in. It was only a small tablet, smaller than a tampon, but it might as well have been a tree trunk.
It was SO painful!!
If putting the pessary in hurt this much, then what the hell would the actual labour feel like?!
For hours after that, nothing happened. The husband had to leave, as the hospital was not yet allowing husbands or partners to stay on the ward at that point. I had to resist the urge to fling myself at him and cling to his leg.
What if I went into labour?
What if he missed the birth?!
Luckily, there was a hotel next to the hospital, so he stayed there for the night. Knowing he was nearby provided me with some comfort.
It was a looooong night and I didn’t get any sleep at all.
The birth
By the next morning, a few pains had started to kick in. By midday, my inexperienced self honestly believed I was in established labour.
“If you were in labour you wouldn’t be able to speak,” a midwife informed me bluntly, before suggesting that I take a walk. Off I went, waddling around the hospital grounds. The baby’s foot had been jabbing away at my ribs for weeks and walking was becoming uncomfortable.
I was well and truly fed up with providing 24-hour womb service.
After the walk and a few hours of rolling around on top of one of those huge inflatable balls, I was finally moved off the ward and taken to the delivery room.
There, the midwife did a check and informed me that I was 2cm dilated.
Only 2cm!!!
It felt more like 8cm!!
I’d chosen not to have an epidural, instead relying on just gas and air to get me through the birth.
I’ve got a high pain tolerance, I thought.
I’ll be fine, I thought.
I was absolutely NOT fine!
Looking back now, I wish I’d accepted every bit of pain relief offered to me!
More about that later.
The next step was setting the drip up and getting the cannula into my arm. The midwife started inserting it into the side of my wrist, only to announce a few minutes later that she’d lost the vein. Luckily I don’t have a fear of needles! I have tiny scars on my wrist and hand as a lovely reminder of the experience though.
Finally, the cannula was in and my waters were broken a short while later. For me, this process was even worse than the insertion of the pessary. I don’t remember much after that, only that things seemed to happen very quickly.
I remember lying on my back at some point shouting “I can’t do this!”
“Yes you can,” the midwife replied calmly.
Which was f**king irritating.
I should make it clear that the hospital staff were absolutely wonderful. So was the husband. However, when you’re experiencing the worst pain in your life, any calmness displayed by anyone just makes you angry.
How could everyone be so calm?! I was in the worst pain possible and everyone was so calm. I hated it and wanted everyone to scream and shout with me.
“You’re wasting all your energy on screaming,” the midwife told me. “You need to focus on the pushing now.”
Focus on the pushing?!!
You can’t focus on pushing without screaming when you’re trying to force something the size of a watermelon out of something the size of a lemon!
“Control your breathing,” the midwife said.
If you’ve seen the movie Look Who’s Talking, then you’ll probably remember the birth scene where the midwife tells Kirstie Alley’s character to slow down her breathing and she responds with “f**k my breathing!” in a demonic voice. That’s pretty much how I felt like responding, but somehow I managed to get through the pain without a single swear word.
An impressive achievement.
For some reason, I decided I wanted to give birth on all fours. I’m a pretty self-conscious person, but at that moment I honestly didn’t care that my bits were in the poor midwife’s face. I cringe about it now. Then I remind myself that midwives have seen hundreds of people’s bits and that my bits are hopefully long forgotten.
Finally, after a few pushes, our baby’s head was out. They call the moment when the baby’s head is crowning “the ring of fire” and they aren’t lying!
The first thing I remember thinking when our daughter was born was thank f**k for that. Not the most maternal thought, I know, but it was such a relief for her to finally be out and for me to be pain free!
I remember hearing her crying and it was such a surreal but wonderful moment.
We were parents!!!
The aftermath
Unfortunately, I didn’t escape the experience unscathed. The midwife informed me that I’d sustained a third-degree tear (caused by our daughter’s shoulder!) and a bit later on, an anaesthetist came into the room and began explaining the risks of spinal injections.
There was a lot of information to take in and by that point, I felt pretty out of it.
I’d avoided having an epidural due to the risks that were being explained to me at that very moment, only to end up having one anyway! I couldn’t help but think that if I’d had one in the first place, I would have had better control over my breathing during the birth and the injury could have been avoided.
You live and learn!
So instead of spending time with my daughter, I was wheeled down to the operating theatre. There, I spent the next hour with my legs spread wide apart and my bits exposed to at least ten doctors. A radio was on and I think I remember them singing along to Sweat (A La La La La Long) by Inner Circle (of all the songs!) while they sewed my poor, mangled bits up.
Definitely not something I’d expected to happen during my first birth experience!
But being sewn up turned out to be the calmest moment out of the whole experience! The doctors were very friendly and helped me to feel at ease.
Afterwards, I was taken to the ward and spent the next few hours feeling overwhelmed and exhausted. Because our baby was born so early in the morning, the husband stayed with me on the ward and was able to help out, which was a relief as I was unable to move my legs due to the anaesthetic. I was hoping that we’d be able to go home later that day but my blood pressure, which had returned to normal after the birth, started rising again.
“You’re not going home yet,” the doctor informed me later that day. I started crying in frustration, but I knew why they were being cautious. Pre-eclampsia usually occurs during pregnancy but there’s also a risk of postpartum pre-eclampsia. There was no way I was going home until my blood pressure was satisfactory.
The husband had to leave later on and for the first time, I was finally alone with my new baby.
That first night alone with her was a bit terrifying and overwhelming, but still wonderful!
It took two days for my blood pressure to return to normal. I still didn’t get much sleep (I think I managed about half an hour in the four nights I was in hospital). Our baby was healthy and perfect though, and that made all the pain I’d endured all worth it!
And despite all the complications, I decided to do it all over again!
