(Please ensure you scroll to the bottom of the page for the link to Kaitlyn's New Blog)
Before retiring this blog, and starting up a new one all of Kaitlyn’s own, I thought it only right that I capture the experience of the labour considering the investment (both financially and time wise) I made in the event. This is quite a long entry, but as the memories are already beginning to fade, I need to capture it somewhere to laden Kaitlyn with guilt when she is old enough to understand.
On the Monday morning, my first feeling that baby may be on the way, was during my swim. My swims were usually the time I felt completely relaxed and calm, however that morning I felt uncomfortable in every position, and was not interested in anything more than walking laps of the pool.
The next hint arrived at about half two in the afternoon, and for those of you with a weak stomach (or the boys for that matter), skip the next paragraph now…
At this point, I lost what they call the mucous plug – trust me, you don’t want any further details. And accordingly to the books, this event can be a sign labour is imminent, or can be an indication it is at least another couple of weeks away.. After I got over the initial excitement, (and put down my book) I rang Ash who was his usual nonplussed self, and then Mum who just about jumped out of her skin proclaiming Ash needed to come home immediately as the baby was only seconds away from being born – talk about two extremes!
The rest of the afternoon was spent preparing a lovely moussaka for dinner, and completing the ironing. I should have known something wasn’t quite right as the only way I could complete the ironing in comfort was to lower the board to the height of my birthing ball, and sit on the ball to get it done.
When Ash arrived home, I was feeling somewhat uncomfortable, but I managed to get through the moussaka (yes it was lovely) and then took Ash’s suggestion to have a bath. At this point I still wasn’t convinced labour had started, or perhaps I was determined to prove Mum wrong (i.e. her prediction that the baby would arrive that week).
Ash started timing the pains at around quarter past eight and at that point they were coming regularly, about four minutes apart. I guess the two of us remained in Denial Town, as it took at least half an hour of debate before agreeing to call the hospital to work out if we should come in, at which point they told us to get ourselves in there.
I don’t think either of us will forget that drive in a hurry. Ash had to pull over for each contraction – not that I think it made ANY difference. At one point I yelled at him to stop driving on the ‘bumpy ‘side of the road, and demanded that he change over the clearly smoother lane.
On arrival to the hospital, I was too embarrassed to bring my labour bag up to the maternity ward, convinced they were going to send me home. Instead, we were strapped to the monitor, and started waiting. The strange thing is, even at this point, Ash and I were questioning whether we were actually going to be staying!
We finally realised it was really happening when the first examination revealed we were 2 – 3cm dilated, and the contractions began kicking into gear!
Over the next couple of hours, I spent a lot of time in the spa, and on the floor on all fours. I was pumping the gas like crazy, but at almost every contraction was being told by Ash and the midwife how to use it correctly. To be honest, it wasn’t the gas itself that I needed, but the distraction of biting down on the mouthpiece. I didn’t appreciate the many questions being asked of me, and certainly didn’t appreciate Ash’s jokes about whether I wanted my stress balls now or later. Rather, I spent most of my time with my eyes shut, somewhere off in another planet.
The next examination showed we were 9 – 10cms dilated, following which my waters broke. And from there it was up on the bed to begin the pushing phase.
It’s amazing to think that you have reached the threshold for the most pain ever, and then all of a sudden, the pain ramps up to something even worse!
I was completely exhausted at this point I was heard to say things to the effect of:
“I can’t do this” – heard at least once per contraction
“I just want to sleep”
“I don’t want to be here anymore”
“Can’t you just pull it out?”
“How much longer?”
Ash was remarkably quiet at this point, except to offer the occasional word of encouragement, while I think I may have offended my midwife on multiple occasions. We proceeded to push for about two hours – it could have been much quicker but I was determined not to take the advice of the midwife as to the best position to push in (it all seemed to hard at that point).
We finally “crowned” and then it was downhill from there. When Kaitlyn was put on my chest, it took my breath away. I looked up to Ash who was crying, and I just couldn’t believe it was all really happening.
It is such a life changing moment, and a time when you take a look around and decide your life is complete – at that point in time, there isn’t anything else you need or want.
So, while there were no drugs or medical interventions, there was the need for stitches (ow!) I couldn’t be happier that the labour went as well as it did, and while the money spent on birthing balls, stress balls, massage oil, etc may have been wasted, the ipod went down very well – with the midwife and nurses commenting on my excellent song selection.
And that’s my birth story, a suitable point at which to end this blog and begin a whole new one just for Kaitlyn. Here is the link to her new site:
http://kaitlynparmenter.blogspot.com/
Our growing baby...
