After what seemed like forever bouncing on birth balls and wandering around a hospital having to stop every minutes or so because the contractions were coming so frequently I didn’t actually get a break between them. I went back and was basically internally freaking out as I had been warned that the stuff they used to induce me can cause the uterus to basically lose its shit and contract too many times. I was 1 contraction per 10 minutes off needing to have it removed and they were getting so painful and happening so quickly I started to lose my shit a bit. Not complete, melt down type losing of shit. More like a silent ‘fuck my life’ ‘I don’t think I can do this” stage of labour.
I was moved to a delivery room because the heat and intensity of the contractions was sending my anxiety mad and the midwife must have felt sorry for me haha. Anyway, the delivery room was like heaven compared to the ward and by this time I literally couldn’t give a fuck about anything I just wanted this baby out. I was strapped to monitors most of the time because Lily was IUGR so needed to be kept an eye on and I remember all I wanted to do was get off this fucking bed and into a birthing pool. I was told I could stay in it until I was in active labour (that part killed me because after a good 6 hours of contractions ever 2 or so minutes I had progressed 1 shitty little centimetre) and I was willing to try fucking anything to stop the pain. I even asked for an epidural but because I wasn’t in active labour (fml) i wasn’t allowed. The sensor things kept losing her heartbeat every time she moved and the midwife wasn’t happy with the trace and bless her, she stood for ages holding the bloody thing against my bump to desperately try and get a decent trace so I could get into the pool she was running. It was decided then that if I hadn’t progressed any more soon then I would have my waters broken and the dreaded drip.
Fuck knows how long later and still no decent trace and i had been in every position possible and it just wasn’t happening. The pain at this point was near unbearable and any moment now I was going to completely lose control and every ounce of a shit I had. My lovely midwife suggested a TENS machine, well, half a TENS machine. They only had one shitty one that only had the bottom pads but it helped for about half an hour before I had it on the highest electrocution setting and it wasn’t even touching the pain. Meanwhile, still no decent trace. I turned over in a half arsed attempt to find the heartbeat again and ended up throwing up in my hair instead. Also in a bowl. Managed to not chuck up everywhere which was a bonus. Props to me there I guess. Also props to my wonderful. amazing, Ben who took the sick bowl off me and also removed the puke from my fringe.
While this was all happening I began to feel baby’s head move, it felt almost like she was slow motion trying to shoot out of a canon (canon being my vagina). It felt like I needed to push but because I was only 3cm about half and hour earlier I thought I was imagining things. I told the midwife and she agreed to examine me again so off she went to get some gloves and she told me if I felt like I needed to push just go with and see what happens. Now, because my pregnancy was high risk because of baby being IUGR it had been agreed, weeks back with my consultant, that once I was in active labour the room would basically be swarming with doctors and paediatricians so my midwife also called for them too.
It was such a strange feeling, with Eloise the first pushes felt involuntary and more like spasms but with Lily I felt like I was more in control. Whether that was because they weren’t as surprising the second time around, I don’t know. Anyway, I pushed. Not a lot happened apart from me thinking I’d end up shitting myself or something. Midwife was still getting her stuff sorted to examine me encouraging me to keep pushing just to see if it got me somewhere. Second push I felt my waters go, now my midwife was moving a bit faster. Third push and out came her head followed by the rest of her just as she had got her second glove on and she just about caught (yes, caught) baby as she flew into the world. The brigade of doctors arrived shortly after and my midwife announced “she’s had it!” which was followed my a lot of shocked faces. Baby was checked over and everything was fine! Panic over! I felt like I could finally breathe after just under 9 months of worrying and the last 8 weeks of “she could be born at any minute. The twice weekly CTGs, the bleed, the hematoma, the weekly scans and countless AAU visits in between, the steroid injections, the reduced movements, the increased movements, finally it was over and my baby was here! And she was healthy!
Lily Rose was born at 17:29, at 38+2w, weighing 5lbs 7.5oz, on a chilly afternoon in January.
One minute the second stage of my labour was according to my notes. ONE FREAKING MINUTE. I went from 3cm to baby shooting out in less than an hour.
I whipped my top off for some skin to skin and to breastfeed her for the first time. She didn’t take to it quite a quickly as Eloise (who still had problems), she struggled to latch a lot more and I panicked a bit at first because I was expecting her to latch better than she did (she still has a terrible latch thanks to a lip tie). Proud Daddy (who I couldn’t have done it without, sarcastic, annoying jokes and all) then held her whilst I birthed the placenta (which actually came out this time! woo hoo).
Despite this being my second labour I felt like I coped with the pain better the first time. Whether being blissfully ignorant/5 years younger helped me last time I don’t know but fuck me was it painful! I swore blind that she would be the last one because absolutely sod even contemplating a third baby after that! Fast forward 15 months and I’ve forgotten completely how painful it actually was and we are planning on another one at least.
I hope you enjoy the vlog/watching me in the most pain I’ve ever felt in my life and have a good chuckle and me looking like dog shite on toast. You’re welcome.