Labouring towards labour!

The book said “ most women feel an urge to get themselves organised ready for the babys birth. As the expected date of delivery draws closer, many couples find a certain mild panic creeping in when they begin to wonder whether they will actually be ready….”

I guess this was why a week before the expected due date I was climbing around under the caravan sorting out the wiring and steaming carpets. I was filled with a sense of preparation, a need to get things organised, clean, sorted.

On Friday 24th Feb I spent the day trying to ignore the regular pains that encompassed my stomach. I cooked dinner for mum and Keefe, cried because Keefe didn’t come to the table quick enough, screamed at him for being inconsiderate and sobbed because I couldn’t control myself. All part of false labour, but as Hazel, our midwife said, at least we were on the home straight.

The following week left me surviving on two hours sleep a night due to false labour pains and Braxton hicks. All in all I was tired, hormonal and living life on the edge of emotional overload. Luckily Hx was on hand with daily phone calls to remind me there was life other than baby.

Thursday 2nd March dawned and I fumbled my way through the morning, I had spent the night logging contractions, irregular but strong which started at 1.30ish, they came every 10 mins, then about 5.30am they just stopped, another night of expectation with nothing to show. This had happened for the last 3 nights so I didn’t really think anything of it.

The day passed with the usual hormonal tirade, stomach cramps and tears. I pounded the pavements in the cold northern wind and bemoaned the fact that this baby was never going to come.

About 10.30pm everyone went to bed, feeling restless I nested downstairs with a book and yet another glass of water and chocolate spread sandwich. I paced the room alternating between reading, sitting on my bouncy ball, and getting through the cramps, attempting once more to prepare myself for another sleepless night. Contractions were coming regularly once again, this time slightly more painful, but nothing that really told me that this was it.

However by midnight the contractions were coming about 5 mins apart so as directed by the Midwife I called the hospital, Having already called someone out last week under false pretenses I didn’t want to get someone out of bed again. I chatted to the nurse on the labour ward telling her about all the other times I had thought I was in labour….

“Shannon” she said, “ are you having pains again?”

“Hmmm”

“that’s four mins since the last contraction, can you talk?”

“Uh-uh”

“Shannon, I don’t think your in false labour this time, I think your in labour, Im calling out the midwife”

“uh-uh”

Once the contraction had stopped I went upstairs and woke up mum, dad and K. Dad began boiling water – apparently its what Grandads do! Mum made toast and tea and Keefe rubbed my back as and when needed, paced the floor and fiddled with cd’s.

30 minutes later Christine has joined us and was able to confirm that I was in labour, things were finally happening. Four hours later and contractions coming hard and happening ever 3 mins Christine asked to do an internal to see how things were progressing, 5cm dilated – which would have been great, if it wasn’t for my soaring blood pressure. Christine gave me an hour to see if my blood pressure would lower itself now that I knew things were progressing, but even after a hot shower and a relaxing massage my blood pressure was still in the mid 90’s. Health and safety of the baby came first and an ambulance was called and I was sent to the dreaded hospital.

Arriving at the labour ward my spirits plummeted and the tears started, the hospital room was everything I knew it would be. Cold, sterile and the bouncy ball was flat. In the space of two hours we had three staff change over and I was left panicked and unsure that I would be able to do what needed to be done.

Keefe blundered round trying to keep me calm, kissing and hugging me telling me everything was going to be alright. Added to my panic was the fact that the birth plan had been left behind, without it would Keefe remember exactly what I did and didn’t want?

Up high and totally believing that I couldn’t do this labour thing, I was introduced to my new best friend – the gas and air machine. A few deep breaths, a few bounces on the ball and a calm over took me.

I have to say that the next 13hrs passed in a blur of gas and air, pain and changing positions. Mum and K offered invaluable support and Gillian, our main midwife, kept me calm and encouraged. Gas and air is a totally weird substance that allows you to be spaced out but present. At times I got frustrated with K and mum because they couldn’t understand that it took me at least 20 mins to get over the contractions, so when people were asking me questions I would give the answer 20 mins later. Some very strange conversations were had. I used the bouncy ball lots, leaning over it, sitting on it, placing it on the wall behind my back and massaging my back. Vaseline for lips, water and wet wipes were a must and seemed at times to be the only thing I could gasp out between contractions.

At sometime, mid contraction, Gillian asked K if he thought I might like to use the bath, he hummed and arhred, in amidst gulping gas and air I stared at him in disbelief, didn’t he know I would love to have a bath, hadn’t we discussed this. I was therefore forced to batter him over the head, scream yes and mewl in agony at his inability to understand my needs. I virtually ran from the labour room to the bathroom as I had no gas and air, luckily they had a couple of bottles stashed away for me, I was connected up and plunged into the warm watery depths of the bath.

At about 1.30 – now 11hrs in, I remember panting to K that I wanted to push, but after yet another examination (something I was adamant I wasn’t going to have but when its happening you just don’t care what they do to you) showed I was only a further 2cm dilated. 7cm my brain screamed, Ive got to be further than that, I really felt like I couldn’t take anymore, I wasn’t just tired, I was exhausted. I thought the pain I was feeling was as much as I could humanly stand.

Because I hadn’t progressed as much as I should have Gillian attempted to ask me how I felt about oxytocin. Book says: Oxytocin Drip, another method of accelerating or augmenting labour… if waters have broken.. but labour is progressing slowly. The down side to this is that you have to go on a drip, which means limited movement and continual monitoring. As I was already being monitiored because of my blood pressure it was just one more thing that tied me to the bed. However an hour later I still hadn’t progressed any further to we agreed to the drip. The belt they tie round you stomach to monitor the baby and contractions was totally aggrevating at some stage I remember begging for it to be moved, just for a few minutes, it constricted with each contraction and hurt like hell.

Something else we tried was the tens machine – supposed to offer a drug free release – Pah! It hurt like hell, as soon as it was on I screamed for it to be removed, the shock of the electric current just sent me crazy – yet another time K got battered.

I think there were a further two internal examinations, but really I didn’t give a flying fart, I just wanted to be told I was ten cm dilated and I could push. I also had an anterior lip. Book says: sometimes, with or without the premature urge to push the cervix may have dilated unevenly around the baby’s head, leaving a lip which can still be felt. If you do push vigorously on to an incompletely dilated cervix it might become swollen and thus take longer to recede, which meant the baby wasn’t coming out properly.

Im not sure what they did, or what I did, but what felt like hours later with lots of gas and air and not pushing I remember the Dr examing me, looking through my legs, smiling and saying, “Shannon your ready, you can push”. The relief, so I started, I screamed, I yelled, I groaned, I screamed some more. “I cant do it” I cried out, “you can do it, you are do it” called back Gillian, “Come on babe, push” yelled K. “Your doing brilliantly babe” cried my mum.

I couldn’t stand being on my back so moved onto all fours, primal and howling I began to push. So what does it feel like? Imagine breaking your leg, then imagine breaking that leg over and over again, the pain is indescribable. Gillian wanted me to push four times, to get baby’s head under the pubic bone, to allow it to come out, but at the end of each third push I collapsed in pain and exhaustion. “I cant do it”….

As his head finally hit the vaginal opening the sense of stretching is amazing, a sense of relief hit and I knew I was on the home straight, six more pushes and I heard K, Mum and Gillian all yelling “It’s a boy, he’s here”, kisses and hugs abounded and I was filled with an overpowering headiness as a small purple baby, bloody baby was placed into my arms… my baby, we had done it.



It was almost all over and I was adamant that I was going to have my natural third stage, but having stood for almost an hour with the placenta swinging between my blood spattered legs I gave in and Gillian administered the syntometrine, 20 mins later she gave me the all clear. K, mum, dad and I were left to stare in wonder at the little being in front of, face scrumpled up and demanding cry ensuring our love was sealed.