Before the birth of my son, I was riveted by reading beautiful stories of mother’s having extraordinary natural deliveries and wonderful experiences. I hoped for the same, yet, I can not recount an easy nor a fast labour, but it certainly was something to be marvelled.
A word of warning, however; if you are currently expecting and are prone to being anxious about labour, I would suggest you not read on. In fact, if you are averse to TMI, then this might not be for you.
I was admitted into hospital on Sunday 26th May and at 9 pm the induction process began. After a few trips in and out of the hospital, the doctors had finally decided to induce labour due to concerns about pre-eclampsia. (For more details about my pregnancy and lead up to induction you can read my Pregnancy Post https://thewholesomehome.wixsite.com/thewholesomehome/post/pregnancy-a-love-hate-relationship)
By this stage, I was unbelievably ready for this child to be born. My feet were swollen to almost double their normal size and my skin across my stomach was so tight that I thought it felt it would burst if this pregnancy went on any longer. Most importantly, though, I couldn’t bear to wait any longer to meet this little baby!
Because of very unsteady blood pressure, I was constantly monitored and checked throughout Sunday night. By the following morning, we had all hoped that things would be moving along but I had not dilated at all. Contractions were coming on about every ten minutes but, for the most part, I found them quite manageable. By midday, they had begun to be much closer together, but still not very regular. By now I was having to concentrate in order to breathe through each pain. The obstetrician thought that by the evening I would have dilated enough to have my waters broken, however, I was only 2cm dilated. Yet, for me, things were becoming more and more intense. I had to walk around my room through each contraction that was now coming about every five minutes. After a shower and some Panadeine Forte, the midwives told me I had to try to get some rest. I half laughed at them, knowing how little sleep I had gotten the night before when the contractions were so much weaker. Nonetheless, I slept for about two hours before an extremely sharp pain tore at my stomach and I woke up with a start. My back was searing with pain and I knew I would scream out if I didn’t walk through this contraction. As soon as I stood up, I heard a small splash and I could feel something wet dripping down my leg. My first reaction was embarrassment, thinking I had wet myself when I suddenly realised my waters had broken. I quickly called the midwife who confirmed that it was my waters and it was time to move to the delivery room.
Chris (my husband) had been home during this time, trying to get some rest as we both knew he wouldn’t be getting much sleep over the next few days either. I tried to call him and tell him to get to the hospital as quickly as possible, but the phone rang out. I called again and he didn’t answer. A third time (in between contractions) and all I heard was his answering message. Finally, I called my mother to contact Chris. Ten minutes later he was by my side and helping me waddle to the delivery room.
As I entered the delivery room the midwife told me to try to get as comfortable as I could. I made way to an exercise ball and just as I went to sit on it, a massive contraction came on. With the pressure from the contraction and the bounce of the ball, my stomach could not quite handle it and I threw up all over the floor. After this, I decided that it was best to keep walking or stay on the bed. The obstetrician arrived soon and quickly examined me, realising that I was only 3cm dilated. There were constant concerns about my very high blood pressure at this stage, so it had to be regularly checked as well as being permanently attached to a CTG machine to trace the baby’s heart rate.
Slowly, the contractions became stronger and stronger and longer and longer but at the same time, the baby’s heart rated started to drop. For some reason, it would not stay regular and more professionals were called in to check the readings.
Meanwhile, I started to feel very dizzy and my temperature began to skyrocket. I was sweating too much and losing too many fluids as my blood pressure stayed very high. They attached me to a drip in order to maintain my fluids and an internal fetal heart monitor was inserted. It seemed, that every time I moved from my back, his heart rate would drop rapidly and show signs of distress. (Afterwards, I discovered that this was due to the cord being wrapped around his neck and every time I moved, it tightened). The problem with this, however, was that I had an excruciating searing pain across my back that only got worse when I laid down.
The midwives encouraged me, at this point, to have an epidural but I believed, wholeheartedly, that I could do it without it. Six hours went by with regular, powerful contractions but very little dilation. At 6 am I had finally reached 8cm dilated and the obstetrician decided that I could start pushing.
What a relief to think that I could physically start helping to get this baby into the world.
With every contraction, it became a mind game. The pain was overwhelming until I thought about the beautiful child that was coming closer with every push. Each time, I mentally focused a little harder.
My husband stood by me every step of the way, taking the full brunt of my hand squeezing (except when he would fetch more ice for me to crunch on).
Even in the heat of the moments, we still found time to giggle. One moment, I now recall with hilarity, was in the very middle of a mighty push. Whilst I was putting all my energy into this contraction, the back of the bed started to lift up and down, squishing me in the middle of it. I started accusing Chris of playing with the buttons but I very quickly realised that he was too far away from the bed for it to be his fault. However, as I could think of no one else to blame, I continued to beg him to stop. Finally, as the contraction subsided a little, I relaxed my grip, with the discovery that I, myself, had been moving the bed up and down.
Nonetheless, two hours of pushing passed and the baby’s head was still not engaged. By now, the hospital staff were a little more than concerned. They knew that some intervention was needed and quickly. By this stage, I was very inelegantly flat on my back with my feet strapped into stirrups. Initially, they tried to manually reposition the baby as he was trying to shoulder his way out, but this still did not bring him down. One step was left before a caesarean section. They decided to attach a suction cup to the top of the baby’s head and try to pull him out. With quite a lot of pulling, his head finally descended. A quick incision was made in order to prevent any further tearing (although this did not entirely work) and the doctor went back to tugging. Fifteen long minutes after intervention was used and two hours of pushing... a perfectly round little head started to crown and with one more almighty push and pull, his beautiful little body saw the eight o’clock sun.
The moment he rested on my chest and snuggled against my neck a feeling of complete elation and love overcame me. His tiny fingers curled around some stray strands of my hair and all my concerns of motherhood simply faded away. I became so aware, in that very second, that motherhood is a gift from God.
Throughout the entire active part of labour, my husband helped me meditate on Christ’s passion. That doesn’t mean at times I felt I was too exhausted to even think of pushing for a second more or that at some moments I nearly gave in to having an epidural. What it meant, however, was that my pain was put into perspective. I could think about the unimaginable suffering Christ endured out of love for us, His sinful children and remember that my pain will soon end and the joy of a child will make it so amazingly worth it.
I can not tell a story of an easy delivery. I can’t talk about a quick labour. What I can tell, though, is an incredible experience of the birth of our son that I would happily do all over again.
God gives us the grace to endure each day... and most especially to mothers.
Kommentare