Today, Matilda Grace Harrison came into the world. Not quite in the way we expected but arrived safe and sound into our arms. Arriving at 7.11am is a slightly awkward time for me as I spent the day and night staring at her in her goldfish bowl crib next to my bed in hospital - exhausted but deliriously happy.
The journey to get to this point was as eventful as any labour goes I suppose. Started to feel contractions at my final antenatal appointment with my midwife on the Friday afternoon. They were small but exciting as they were very light but every 15 minutes. My mum had been staying with us for two and half weeks at this point, as everyone had told me I was bound to be early. But my due date came and went, I'd started to try the old wives tales to kick start labour, such as eating pineapple - not just a bit, but a whole pineapple in one sitting. It was only after nothing had happened that a quick check on the Internet revealed that you'd have to eat 7 for it to have any effect. So never mind labour kicking in, I was more worried about getting diarrhoea! Anyway, I digress.
I'd thought it might be a good idea to have company with mum staying, it was only at the point of worsening contractions that I was starting to reconsider. Mum started to flap a little and speak in hushed tones to Richard. Whispering around me (especially about me) makes me cross. She in turn started to work Richard up into a small flap and then the two of them together started to talk hospitals. Now I had paid attention to the antenatal classes when they said "don't go in too early, you'll only get sent home" and against my better judgement (and mainly to shut them up) I agreed and we all hopped into the car and drove to hospital.
Arriving at hospital we were taken into a waiting room and I knew then it was too early, I was far too 'with it' and calm to be in 'real' labour. A midwife came in, assessed me and told me I was only 2 cm dilated. However I could go onto the labour ward to see how I progressed.
Now, I had planned the birth carefully (as many do, mainly to feel like you may have some control over this impending scary moment that is approaching). My birth plan was detailed, downloaded check boxes from the Internet and I'd wanted a water birth. There was only one birthing pool in the hospital and it was only available if a) it was empty (of course, I'm hardly likely to want to jump in with others am I?!) and b) has staff who have been trained how to use it. I was delighted when I was told it was empty and I waddled down the corridor into a wonderful room with the pool. I was told I couldn't get into the pool until I was at least 4cm so I had to be patient. At this point I wanted it to be over, the contractions since leaving the house were all over the place and not consistent and the pain was strong in some and excruciating in others. I spent most of the time pacing around. I distinctly remember wearing a silky maternity skirt with big pink Toates Toastie socks on which looked frankly ridiculous, but for those who have done it - you'll know you don't care at that point. I waited in the room for 4 hours with intermittent checking from midwives. I eventually got given two options, go upstairs on the ward to wait for my labour to get out of the 'latent' phase or go home. We opted for home.
At home we all tried to sleep. I tried to sleep through the contractions and I was aching. The last few weeks of my pregnancy had been agony for my hips and especially now they were being stretched apart by a little head they were almost unbearable to put any weight on. This latent phase was getting really boring. It continued and mum and Richard continued to whisper and flap. I had a warm bath (supposed to reduce the pain) but I found the whole thing very . . undignified as I lay there on my side at 28 years of age with my mother and husband both standing over my naked body. The bath didn't help.
After one contraction that seemed to last forever, I was almost upside down over the arm of the sofa gripping very tightly into Richard's arm. I decided that it may now actually be time for hospital, if only to get the journey out of the way. It was 30 minutes by car and for the last few hours I'd not been able to sit upright during a contraction. Finally made it back into hospital, met by a very rude midwife who, if I was a rougher bird and not have been requiring her services I'd have punched her in the face. She was obnoxious to Richard and mum and extremely patronising to us all. I thought I was nearly there, but was crushed as she announced I was only 3cm. I waddled back to the labour ward and was once again lucky enough to get into the birthing pool suite. Whilst coping with the pain, the midwives tried to make me have a multitude of drugs, all of which I'd clearly refused on my birthing plan. I stuck with my rented TENS machine from Boots and a Magicool spray. I had now reduced clothing to a maroon vest, no bra and no knickers. I waited another 4 hours only to be given the same options after having not dilated, go home or go up to the ward. As it was night time, no longer was Richard allowed to accompany me, he'd have to go home. I was very scared I didn't want to be alone at all, but my desire not to get back in the car was greater, so at 10pm Richard and mum left for home and I was wheeled upstairs to a ward.
The ward sounded busy but in fact was quite empty, it was very dark as the lights were all out. I was introduced to the nurse who'd be looking after me and shown to my bed. There was one other woman on the ward of eight but I couldn't see her, only hear her. She sounded as if she was in absolute agony and I spent the next few hours hearing her buzz for help and pleading for gas and air, both of which was refused. I was very scared by now. I could hear the nurse moaning that they were short staffed, moaning about people calling for help that didn't need it. In typical fashion I felt myself not wanting to bother them with my trivial problems and didn't call for them at all.
My contractions were really strong but I was so exhausted I kept falling asleep as soon as they stopped. I couldn't see a clock so I didn't know what time it was or even more importantly how far apart my contractions were or how long they lasted. I was still using just a TENS machine and Magicool spray. All I kept thinking was they felt bad but they didn't sound half as bad as the other woman on the ward and they were fobbing her off. Eventually the nurse came to check on me as I'd been making noises while she was checking the other lady. She checked and said I was almost fully dilated and it then became a bit of a rush to get me back downstairs to the labour ward.
They phoned Richard at 3am and told him to be quick. He is very proud that it took him and mum only 20 minutes to get from bed to dressed and in hospital in 20 minutes. (Now if you've been paying attention you'll know it normally takes at least 30 minutes, when ready to go).
I was back down in the familiar surroundings of the labour ward but this time I was not going to the birthing pool suite, there was no one around who had been trained how to use it so I was doing it 'straight'. I'd been so close so many times that I'd completely forgotten how to do labour in the 'normal' way and hadn't brought the sheet which demonstrated the best positions to sit and stand in. My midwife was grumpier than all of the others and didn't talk much. Meanwhile I was in the worst amount of pain I'd had so far and I wanted silence while I coped with it.
I was given gas and air and it made me feel sick. I wondered if I'd have experimented more when I was a student if I'd have been able to cope with it a little better.
Richard and mum arrived in the room, looking very dishevelled and quite frankly shit scared. Richard immediately came over to me and I had another contraction. I was kneeling on the bed, facing the wall with my arms up and over the head rest. I was coping well until . . . THUD. The world literally dropped beneath me (at the worst possible time, mid contraction). It was Richard, who had in his exhausted state wanted to rest his legs while standing up and pressed the lever to drop the bed. This was bad but he did it again before the labour was over!
In efforts to mend the bed, the midwife went to get other midwives to come and help. A midwife who looked like the nurse character from Catherine Tate's show arrived (again mid contraction) and started to press and push all the levers and I pleaded with gas tube in mouth and through the pain to please stop. The bed eventually ended up being left in a seesaw effect with the top of the bed tipping up any time the bottom of the bed was lent on. Which became quite comical really, as I lay there with (by this point) just my vest on, tipping up and down.
So, by this point we were in full labour. Richard looked exhausted and his one story is that I nearly drew blood as I squeezed his hand during a contraction. I do remember squeezing as I pushed and he removed his hand abruptly, uttering some obscenity. The first midwife we saw in the hospital told him to remove his wedding ring so he was warned. Besides it is really only fair in the grand scheme of things, he should be thankful he is not African or whichever culture pulls their partner's testicles during labour.
A lovely doctor entered the room and said "I hear you're having a baby today". She was there as I was pushing but obviously not doing it correctly and they warned me that if I continued to push in my head I may burst the blood vessels in my eyes! Well I thought I was pushing down properly but this was harder than it sounded. All I could hear was the sound of tiny babies crying from other rooms on the ward, I was so close but still so far. I desperately wanted to make it to that point but it felt like it was so far away as my body was not doing what I wanted it to.
Then the midwife said she could see the head, I was delighted I felt like I was making progress. I was alarmed when she said she could see hair, I was a baldy until the age of one so I never imagined having a baby with hair to start with. Richard was offered the chance to see but stayed well and truly at the cleaner end, but mum took up the opportunity and added it to her lists of 'have dones'.
* The following may be a little graphic for the faint hearted.
The doctor returned and told me that I'd have to have an episiotomy - that
definitely wasn't in my birth plan. In fact it was the thing that scared me more than anything else. But after a small squeal and sob, I looked into Richard's eyes and knew that it was for the best.
So within minutes a swat team of doctors in surgical get-up marched in and got to work. They moved so fast it was terrifying but probably for the best as it didn't give me much chance to think about what was happening.
Since I've been little I've always been the type of person to
need to know what is happening to me, I
have to look at my blood being taken, watch the dentist's every move and this was not the time to not pay attention as this was in a place I didn't want to be messed with! I remember clearly exclaiming and questioning the young doctor as she picked up a huge tube and started to come towards me "What's that? and where is it going?". I'd been given a local anesthetic and the strangest sensation was not feeling the cut but the blood trickle down and off the bed. A 'Kiwi' was used, a new form of ventrouse to help pull the baby's head. It was a white plastic ring with a yellow spongy centre with a split in it, I remember thinking it looked like an accessory from the Lakeland Plastics catalogue. After a few pushes, I heard a baby cry and this was no ordinary baby - this was
MY baby. Relief swept over me as it was all over and the cry was just perfect and sooo reassuring. They announced we had a baby girl and suddenly Richard's face was the biggest I'd ever seen it as he came right towards me with tears in his eyes, relief in his voice and trembling all over. I think we both shared the same thought - Thank goodness for that - we'd still never agreed on boys names and I think secretly we'd both wished for a girl but never said in case it wasn't. But it wasn't over for me, and as delighted as I was, with new baby put to my chest I had one eye on her and one on the rest of the procedure by the doctor. Who after stitching me up, poked a finger up my bum to check she hadn't sewn that too! Blimey, what a birth.
Now I'd been told "Labour is called labour for a reason - it is hard work" many times in my final weeks and they are not kidding.
It was all over and now we had turned from a couple into a family. Matilda Grace had arrived. From our room we could see the sun rise and it was a wonderful day that I shall never forget.
