Mummy Bee's Blog: A birth story...

Henry's birth was far from traumatic, I couldn't wait to do it all again so it really can't have been that terrible! It was long though, and there were a good few hours that were hideous where I felt scared and out of control. I hated being on the ward afterwards with a crying baby who didn't sleep at all and wouldn't feed particularly well for any length of time. I remember feeling pretty lonely that night pacing the corridors, aware that I was waking other mummies just as their babies had woken me at various points that night. I was upset when a midwife suggested I give Henry a cup of formula to stretch his tummy a little to make him sleep - it wasn't the advice I needed or wanted and it certainly didn't help that I was so tired after a 34 hour labour. After we left hospital last time though, everything was fine and I adored my little boy and our quiet days at home, getting to know one another. The hospital stay didn't matter, nor the labour, which like I say, could have been much much worse. I didn't have any stitches and recovered pretty quickly, loving my new role as Henry's mummy.

Fast forward three years and as I was preparing myself for labour and birth and a hospital stay, I honestly just assumed that it would be very similar. I assumed long labours were just my thing and that hospitals weren't particularly nice places to have to stay. I wasn't worried or nervous, it was just very matter of fact and something I was looking forward to doing. It meant meeting our baby and to me that's what mattered most. I wasn't prepared to feel like I do about this labour and subsequent hospital stay, I didn't think it would be as 'perfect' as it ended up being. The timing, the outcome, everything was just as I wanted. I feel beyond proud of my body for pushing out a big baby on nothing more than gas and air, proud of my body for being able to recover so quickly, not needing a stitch or a pain killer along the way. I'm so glad that I can remember every single part of it, not hazy memories due to diamorphine or sheer exhaustion, but total vivid and fresh memories of something that was just amazing from start to finish. While those memories are so fresh I wanted to write them all down, so that one day I can read them back, maybe even with Archie when he's older, and remember how I felt that day. How proud I was of my body and my baby, how much I loved him absolutely instantly, how I felt like I'd known him forever. Here goes...

Sunday 11th September

We were starting to prepare ourselves for induction after a sweep the day before which hadn't seemed to have done a huge amount. Mr B stayed home to get all the house and garden jobs done, and my mum and I took Henry to Gibside for the morning for a nice long walk, half in the hope that it might kick start things and half because I wanted to make the most of every last hour I could with my biggest boy. We had a lovely morning, a nice long walk, play in the park, lunch in the cafe and then home for a nap with Henry too. All that and not so much as a twinge! As I say, we were pretty prepared for induction at this point.

After our nap we played at home and in the garden and then Mr B said he wanted to pop to his dad's for an hour and that he'd take Henry so I could rest. I decided to have a bath with my kindle, so took myself off to the bathroom for an hour's peace before tea. The boys left at 6pm and I discovered pretty quickly after they left that I'd lost a lot of my mucus plug. The less said, the better, as it really was pretty grim, but it was also exciting too. I text Rob and told him but he was totally confused by the text and as I'd been fine 5 minutes before, I dont think he thought much of it. I got into the bath with my book and almost immediately started having little niggly pains. Not contractions exactly, but regular tightenings that felt like period pains. I decided to text my mum at that stage just in case things did escalate, but all the while I was thinking that I would probably be getting everyone's hopes up unnecessarily.

The boys arrived home and we had tea (Marmar's steak pie - all the fuel you need for a good labour apparently) and again, I really wasn't in pain, they were just uncomfortable and undeniably there. Henry never once saw me wince and wasn't aware whatsoever that anything out of the ordinary might be happening. My mum said she'd come over for him anyway and he was more than happy to be having an unexpected sleepover at Marmar's for the night. I really didn't think things would progress quickly, if at all, but it helped knowing that Henry was safe and happy and if I was up all night in pain, I didn't have to worry about him seeing me. Mum arrived at 8pm, we chatted a little on the doorstep, she brought in some washing she'd done for us and then I sobbed when she left thinking about saying goodbye to my biggest boy. I decided I needed to wash and dry my hair just in case things did get moving so went into the shower quickly while Mr B finished some house jobs. In the shower I had 3 proper contractions which were the first thing to make me really feel like it might be starting properly. I quickly dried my hair in between contractions and put my PJs on with the idea that we'd get comfy and watch a film to pass a few hours. It became clear pretty quickly from that point that we weren't going to be watching any film and would need to go to hospital sooner rather than later, so I got my tens machine going and Mr B then decided to have a shower before calling the maternity ward.

We called at about 9:15pm and arrived by 10. The pain was bad and the contractions really hurt, but the tens machine definitely helped and I counted my way through them as best as I could, knowing that when I got to 100, they'd be almost gone. We parked up and went to be assessed upstairs (with a good 6 contractions along the way!) where the midwife said I was 4cm and she could move me to a room on the main ward.

The ward was understaffed and beyond busy so I couldn't use the pool room, but I didn't mind too much and started on the gas and air as soon as we were settled which was just lush; it's seriously good stuff. I wanted to stay on my feet as much as possible and felt like it really helped me this time. I had a bath which was okay but I didn't like lying on my back so I quickly got out and back to standing and leaning over the bed.

By about 1:15am I was really flagging and desperate to know if I'd progressed at all. I was getting a lot of pressure and the pain was a lot worse and I was worried I wouldn't be able to cope for much longer. The only way I can describe the pain at that point was it felt like my pelvis was cracking in half during a contraction, something I don't remember feeling at all last time. The midwife absolutely refused to examine me for another hour (as is their policy) and said I could have some diamorphine if I wanted, but without knowing how far along I was and how much longer I needed to keep going for, I was hesitant, so refused. It helped that she came back to check on us every 15 minutes, so I kept delaying making a proper decision until her next visit, and before I knew it, she was back to examine me at 2:15.

We both genuinely thought I was going to be 5 or 6cm and I was preparing myself to have an epidural or some diamorphine. She told us I was 8.5cm, very close to being 9cm and it wouldn't be long. I've never been so happy and knew then that I didn't need any pain relief and I could absolutely cope on just the gas. We made the decision to call my mum then and she left a sleeping Henry with his Parpar to come down and arrived around 3am. By this point I was feeling so much pressure low down and my body was baring down without me doing anything during contractions. It was painful, but at no point did I feel out of control or panicked. Not long after my mum arrived my waters went with an almighty pop all over her feet behind me and it felt like such a relief to finally be rid of them.

During the next contraction I could feel that the head was really close to being born and within minutes the midwife said that she could see the baby and he'd be born with the next pain. I remember panicking that I could no longer stand up and called out to the midwife but by the time the words were out of my mouth, so was Archie's little head! I didn't really even need to push, the midwife kept telling me to blow like I was blowing out candles and it was the most bizarre feeling in the world - I could feel the head there and knew that his body would come next and as soon as I could feel the contraction building, the midwife told me just to breathe and out he came. She passed him to me between my legs and I held my little boy for the first time, having quickly looked to see if he was a little boy or a girl.

I quickly got onto the bed and they passed Archie to me while waiting for his cord to stop pulsating so they could clamp it and it was just dreamy. I adored him instantly, absolutely instantly and that skin to skin time was just perfect, just as it had been with Henry, only this time I felt so much better, more aware, no haziness at all.

He latched on to feed almost instantly which was just amazing and continued to feed for well over an hour while we snuggled in bed, ate toast and drank some seriously good sweet tea and then the poor midwife went off to help someone else on the busy ward! My mum left to get back to Henry and the three of us just enjoyed each other for those first few hours. Me lying in a pool of my own blood but not caring at all, Archie frantically feeding, and Mr B trying desperately to stay awake after a long night!

I was eventually given a shower which felt so so good and Mr B dressed Archie and then went home for a few hours sleep before coming back around lunchtime to see us. I was moved round to the main ward and luckily, because it was so busy, I got one of the last available beds which was a private side room. After some breakfast on the ward, Archie and I had a few hours sleep and I tried to soak him up. Everything about him. That first few hours goes by so quickly and I just felt like the luckiest person in the entire world lying in that bed in the quiet, cuddling my new baby boy.

And that's how it stayed for another 24 hours really. Henry came to visit and loved his brother instantly, as did other family members, and the rest of the time was spent sleeping, feeding my little boy and eating huge plates of hospital food (which gets a terrible name for the most part, but I was so so grateful to be fed so well and so often, not having to worry about what I'd have or who'd do the washing up afterwards).

The midwives left us to it really, they realised we were fine, he was feeding well, I wasn't in pain, and they therefore just gave us the space to bond and get to know one another for the next 24 hours and that's exactly what I needed and wanted. I loved it and feel so grateful that we were able to get that time together before coming home.

Of course coming home was lovely too. There's nothing quite like your own shower and towels and sofa and all of those home comforts, and of course I'd missed Henry desperately too, so couldn't wait to get back to him.

So that was it, at around lunchtime on Tuesday 13th, we drove home from the hospital, our hearts so much fuller than they had been just a day earlier when we'd arrived.