Yesterday I shared the first part of my birth story, which you can catch up on here. The drama continues below…
Strong contractions started at 11pm about 20 minutes apart but within a couple of hours they were getting more intense and happening four to ten minutes apart. I popped a couple of Paracetamol and called the midwife back again. They asked me to go in to be assessed but warned me that I may be sent home again as I couldn’t be admitted until I was 4cm dilated. Luke’s mum drove us to the hospital at about 2.30am and the midwife was surprised to see that I was already 4-5cm dilated. She was sure that because I had walked in so casually I was going to be sent home but I was already halfway there and had gotten by on just Paracetamol. I was strapped to a machine to monitor my contractions and the baby’s heartbeat before being admitted to the delivery suite where I was looking forward to getting some stronger drugs.
Throughout my pregnancy I was adamant that I only wanted Luke with me while I was in labour and as little interference as possible but en route to the hospital I text my mum to say that she could come in the room with us – as long as she promised to be quiet and do what she was told! She got the first train up and in the meantime I did my best to relax in the hospital bath. I was straight on the gas and air – amazing stuff – and soon got the giggles. Each contraction was bigger than the one before and it wasn’t long before I was asking for something stronger. When the midwife was out of the room I asked Luke to get her back so I could arrange for an epidural but she encouraged me to stick it out. When the time came to get out of the bath so I could get a shot of Pethidine I threw up in the bath tub first. It was lovely waiting for the water to drain so I could get out with help, surrounded by labour ick and puke.
I kept the gas and air on hand for hours and had a shot and a half of Pethidine until I was fully dilated. As the contractions grew and grew I had Luke stood on one side of me and my mum on the other, squeezing their hands almost to the point of bruising. When I was examined, even after a perfectly normal examination with the midwife less than 48 hours before, it turned out that the baby was back to back – and that wasn’t good. We hoped that he might turn before it was time to push but I wasn’t so lucky. As a result, I felt the contractions more in my back that in the front and it was absolutely agonising.
Once my cervix was gone I was told to start trying to push but I just didn’t have that natural instinct. Instead of the usual feeling of needing to do a big poo and pushing the baby out myself, I just tried to deal with the pain. I had the gas and air taken away and was told to concentrate on each contraction and push down. I was on my knees, hanging over the head of the bed, crushing Luke and mum’s hands, doing my best to hold my breath and push but nothing was happening. After two hours a doctor was brought in for the world’s most painful examination and I was told that we were running out of options. By this point each contraction was somehow even more painful than the one before. In the beginning I didn’t mind when they peaked in the middle because I knew that it was about to get better but they were lasting longer and were only 2-4 minutes apart, with longer peaks and taking longer to come down. It was unbearable and I was allowed the gas and air back to take the edge off.
There were three options left:
1. The doctor could try and turn the baby (internally – eek!)
2. Forceps delivery
3. Cesarean
Pop back tomorrow for more labour horror stories!