40-weeks came and went with no sign of things kicking off. I had my appointment with my midwife who did a stretch & sweep to see if we could move things along. We also discussed induction, but I politely declined. I had maintained throughout my pregnancy that I did not want to be induced, unless I absolutely had too.
41-weeks came... and went, again with not even a hint of Baby making an appearance. Once again I headed off to the midwife, who, once again!, did a stretch & sweep. Again we discussed induction, and this time I thought long and hard before declining... I certainly didn't want to be pregnant any more (I was a whopping 122cm around!!) but I really wanted to give Nature a chance to get things started before I let the medico's take over.
As per hospital policy, my midwife booked me in to be induced the following week, but we were both certain that Baby would come before then. In the meantime, I was trying all sorts of alternatives - acupuncture, acupressure massage, spicy foods, long walks (or waddles really!) and even sex.... nothing.
So Tuesday morning I woke, knowing that it was my last morning as a mother of one. I dropped the Little Monster at daycare, and cherished the last cuddle with a belly between us. I also had a little weep as I walked home, knowing that his world was about to be turned upside down.
As Husband drove me to the hospital, I felt little twinges; nothing too painful and I put it down to nerves.
After a six hour wait, a midwife finally induced me and announced that I was already 1cm dilated... so those twinges were probably the start of things to come!
About an hour later, I told Husband to go home... the gel wasn't guaranteed to work straight away, and even if it did, I wanted him to be well rested in case it was another marathon event like the last time!
At 10pm, the contractions kicked off. Somehow (probably because of the panadine forte!) I was able to sort of sleep between them, and dozily moan the pain away. At about 5am, they were coming much quicker and were far more intense. It was during one of these contractions that I was moaning like a... well, like a woman in labour!, when a midwife came in to check up on me because of the noise; apparently they hadn't heard me all night, and assumed that the gel hadn't worked and that I was asleep!
After a quick check, she declared me to be 6cm dilated and ready to go to the delivery suite (because I had been induced, I wasn't able to have my preference of the Birth Centre; but I had been assured that a water birth was still possible). At this point I called Husband, and told him to get his arse to the hospital pronto!
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The three minute walk to delivery suite took an age, and I had three big contractions on the way. As soon as I got into the room they suggested I have a shower to help manage the pain. I don't think I had ever moved so quickly in my life! I was stripped and in the shower in seconds flat. And I have to admit, I was amazed at how much relief the water gave me - yes it still hurt like buggery, but I felt that I might be able to cope.... Two minutes and two huge contractions later, I changed my mind.
I turned to Husband and my midwife and told them I wanted an epidural. Whilst the midwife got the ball rolling, I asked Husband to coach me through two more contractions, just to make sure that an epidural really was what I wanted... and it was!
I managed to waddle to the bed and somehow climb on it so the midwife could check my progression. During the hour that I had been in the shower, I had gone from 6cm to 8cm and was starting to show signs that birth was imminent.
My midwife suggested that as I was so close to pushing, it might actually be quicker for me to give birth naturally (an epidural could have slowed things down)... As a natural birth had been my initial desire, I thought
why not - let's power through this! So she broke my waters as a way of helping my body move things along.
Then midwife told me that Baby had done a poo, and that she was going to check Baby'a heart rate. By this point, an Obstetrician had come in (the same one that delivered the Little Monster! A coincidence, and very comforting to me) and he was poking around and checking things out.
All the while I am lying on the bed contracting and writhing in agony, desperately regretting that I did not insist on an epidural.
Then the midwife says that she can't differentiate between my heart rate and Baby's. I assume that it's because my heart rate is so high, thanks to all the work my body is doing.... Nope. Baby's heart rate is dropping to somewhere between 80-90 bpm. Very not cool, when they consider a baby with a heart rate of 110 to be in distress.
The OB looks at me and says "Baby has to come out now. We are going to do a vontouse delivery".
That's ok, I thought,
I've done this before I can do it again.
My midwife offers me the gas, and I start sucking for all I'm worth. This time, thankfully!, it works - probably because I know it's all the pain relief I'm going to get, so I
make it work.
The vontouse is fitted, the OB pulls whilst I push and.... the vontouse pops off Baby's head. The OB apologises, and they try again.
Once again, the OB pulls with all his strength whilst I push with all of mine and... the vontouse pops off again.
There is a discussion, and it is agreed that Baby's shoulder is stuck behind my pubic bone. So they ask me to push through the next contraction, whilst someone is pushing on my pubic bone trying to dislodge the shoulder.
Suddenly, Baby's heart rate drops again. An emergency button is pressed and all of a sudden there are 10 people in the room (not including Husband and I!)
The OB looks at me again. "Melissa, we have to get Baby out as quickly as possible. I am going to do a forceps delivery. I am so sorry, but this is going to be very painful."
I nod and say "do whatever it takes", then suck on the gas like it was my lifeline.
(After the birth, I was told that his head was only 2cm from being born when this happened, so an emergency cesarean was not an option)
I cannot begin to describe the pain of having the forceps "installed" whilst contracting, and my whole body pushing and pushing, trying to get my baby out; I felt like I was being ripped in half.
The OB coached me through the next contraction, and the whole room was telling me to push and yelling words encouragement. Husband was holding my hand with tears on his face, and cheering me on the loudest.
The OB tugged on Baby's head, a midwife pushed down on Baby's shoulder, my body convulsed.... Still nothing.
Next thing I know, I have two midwives haul my knees up to my ears. A midwife is still pushing on Baby's shoulder, the OB is pulling with all his might, and I scream as I contract and push.
My Even Littler Monster is finally born!! (From my waters being broken to my Monster being born, 30-minutes have passed... all of this drama has taken a mere half an hour; it felt like a lifetime!)
He is put straight on my chest and,
fearing a tragedy, I cry "Is my baby ok? Is my baby ok?!"
Then he screams at me, angry at having been ripped from his comfortable room.... And it is the best, most beautiful sound I have ever heard.
He passes his Apgar test with flying colours - he scored 9 at both 1 and 5 minutes.
The OB says to me that he cannot believe how good my baby's vitals are after such a traumatic entry into the world. He tells me that if my baby hadn't been such a big boy (he was 4.325kg!), it could have been a very different outcome.
The OB, bless him, apologises again for my body being subjected to such a delivery without an epidural; "we would never normally do a forceps delivery without an epidural - there was just no time, we had to get him out."
I tell him I don't care; he did what he had to do in order to get my baby out safely, and alive.
I have been cut and have a 2nd degree tear, I have lost about 800mls of blood, but my baby boy has a set of lungs on him that are amazing. And despite his rather dramatic and almost violent birth, he has only a small mark on his cheek from the forceps and no marks at all from the failed vontouse attempts. I feel like the luckiest woman on the planet to be holding this precious little boy.
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11-weeks on, I have healed physically.
Occasionally I have a memory of his birth, and I wonder how I managed it. I had a natural birth, but certainly not the way I could have ever imagined it!
Only a few times have I thought about "what could have been"... I look at my little boy and I start to imagine how different I could be feeling,
But I stop myself. Why bother distressing myself with an image of something that never happened?
Instead, I focus on my beautiful baby, who has added another depth to my being (as in "be"-ing). He rocks my world.
And no matter how many ways he will find to tick me off over the years to come (and if his big brother is anything to go by, there will be a myriad of them!), I will always be grateful for his safe delivery - and the people who made it happen
