Once I had finished work at 38+3 weeks pregnant, I planned to do something nice each day to make sure I didn’t get bored waiting
at home. On Wednesday, 18th Sep, I spent a lovely afternoon with my
mother-in-law and niece. We took my dogs down to Hillsborough Park for a walk.
I got home around 5ish and started with mild contractions pretty much straight
away. I went and picked Tom up from work and when he asked me how I was I
replied with “I might be in labour”.
I took some paracetemol around 10ish and went to bed. I had
downloaded a timing app and dozed between contractions every 3-7 minutes until
around 1am. As a FTM, I decided to ring triage for some advice. I knew I wasn’t
ready to go in at that point, but also knew things were progressing and wanted
some reassurance. They gave the ‘have a bath and some paracetemol’ line. I
decided a long shower would be better, and contractions came pretty regularly
during that. I woke Tom up afterwards and we put my TENS machine on. About 4 we
rang triage again and went in.
We had a bit of a wait and could hear eerie screaming coming
down the hallway. There were a couple of women there who made me realise I was
a long way off giving birth and had been a bit early coming in. When we were
seen my suspicions were confirmed and we were sent home for the time being. It
was now around 6am.
I went straight to bed and slept reasonably well until about
9.30. Contractions got stronger during the morning, and Tom and I spent the day
watching shitty daytime tv… all those property abroad type tv shows. The TENS
machine was pretty useful, and I started timing contractions again at about
11am. They weren’t particularly regular, and slowed down a bit during the
evening. When they picked up again and Tom said I was sounding more like the
women that had been waiting when we went previously, we rang up and went back
in. I still wasn't dilated enough so they sent us home and told me to
have a bath, which I did, but unless you have a comfortable, big bath, it’s not
really very relaxing and it actually made me feel worse. Tom went to bed and managed to get
some sleep, and I watched Dumbo and dozed on the sofa. I ramped up the TENS and
found a setting that definitely helped. When Tom got back up we watched Mary
Poppins and then the Disney Robin Hood. By this time is was around 6am on Friday, 20th
September, and we went back in. I wasn’t quite 4cm dilated, but they decided to
admit me anyway. We went to the delivery room and got comfy, listened to some
music and let things progress. The next time I was examined was a few hours later and
I was convinced she was going to tell me that I was only 4.5cm, so I was
thrilled when she said 8cm dilated. I was really happy about this, and got
pretty excited as I knew things weren’t going to be much longer, especially
when she broke my waters, which were clear. I was coping alright with the pain,
and gas and air took the edge off it when I needed it.
It got to the pushing bit. We tried different positions, but
bubs just wasn’t shifting. The midwife who had been with us throughout this
whole time was absolutely brilliant. Really encouraging, but she couldn’t
understand why baby’s head was still so high up. All the monitoring of baby
showed that she was doing fine, but just did not want to come out. They let me
push for the allowed amount of time before getting a consultant in to examine
me and discuss options. I had stopped using even the gas and air for the first
half of this time as it was distracting me, but by the end was back on it.
My birth plan had always been to be ‘as natural as possible’.
I figured this took into account that as long as baby came out safe and sound I
would take the advice of the professionals. I specifically did not want to take
diamorphine, and remember feeling relieved that the midwife agreed with me.
After examination the consultant recommended an epidural and another drug that
would simulate contractions, which did disappoint me, but I just wasn’t getting
anywhere by myself. It was so that they could give me a break from pushing as I
was exhausted by that point, and pretty out of it. They wheeled me down to the
consultant-led end of the corridor. I remember being really confused whether
they wanted me to keep pushing or to try and hold on, and asking Tom to find
out. In fact, by this point, I think I was just using Tom as a middle-man to
ask all my questions.
The anaesthetist came in and explained all the risks of
having an epidural. I really had little clue what was going on, but forced
myself to listen to the statistics he was giving me. I wasn’t able to process
what the risks were, but my maths brain was able to listen to the numbers and
work out if I should be overly concerned. I wasn’t. I had to really concentrate
to sit still enough for them to insert the needle, but it quickly took effect. I
remember being surprised that my leg wasn’t where I thought it was. It was the
strangest feeling to have no feeling. They left me for an hour without me
pushing to see if the contractions would push baby down any further. It didn’t,
but both Tom and I managed to catch up on some much needed sleep.
At the end of that hour a different midwife joined us. They
had decided to try another hour, but this time with me pushing with each
contraction. I was in and out of sleep by this point and had to be woken with each contraction to
push. At the end of that hour the consultant explained that they wanted to try
for a forceps delivery, but that due to the position of the baby’s head, they weren’t
even sure that they were going to manage that. If they had to abandon that
procedure they wanted to be able to move to an emergency c-section, so I was
prepped for theatre. I remember I had a hard job waking Tom up to tell him to
go and change into scrubs… we were both exhausted!
All of a sudden I was in theatre with a bunch of medical
staff, the midwife, the consultant and Tom by my side. I desperately wanted it
all to be over, and about 20 minutes later it was and our little girl was born
on Friday, 20th September, 2013 at 17:59, thankfully without the
c-section. They whisked her off with Tom to be weighed (she was 9lb 2) and
wrapped up. The consultant explained that they had managed with forceps, but
that she had come out “like a cork coming out of a bottle”, so he didn’t have
time to perform an episiotomy and I had a 3rd degree tear, but she
was here and that was all that mattered. 
I am disappointed that I couldn’t push her out myself, but it hasn’t affected our bonding. Whilst in recovery the consultant told me that there wasn’t any reason why I shouldn’t be able to have a normal vaginal delivery with my next baby. Honestly, I was still in recovery and he was talking about next time!
I spent a night and a half on HDU as I had lost around 1
litre of blood in theatre. We then had a couple of days on the ward as baby had
jaundice and needed time in photo-therapy.
Apart from two minor incidents, the
care I had at Jessops was brilliant. The food was less good, especially when I
knew that Sheffield Food Festival was happening just down the road.
I had hoped for a normal, quick(ish) delivery with minimal
help and a short stay in hospital, but I had prepared myself well for things
going differently with the delivery. The only thing I hadn’t prepared myself
for was 5 nights in hospital, and that was what I found the most difficult to
cope with. I remember the morning I was transferred up to HDU from the ward
being devastated when I was told that I wouldn’t be able to go home that day,
but now it all seems like a distant memory!She is now 11 weeks old and the most amazing little person I have ever met, and both Tom and I are completely smitten.
