My Birth Story

Disclaimer- It's not my goal to 'share the terrible'. I know birth is so often depicted as grueling and painful and that the media contributes so vastly to our anxieties around giving birth. I don't want to be just another person sharing a scary birth story and I urge everyone- especially those expecting- to seek out stories of positive experiences. The fact that they have to be sought out isn't because they are an extreme rarity, but because they don't offer shock value.

Okay so to begin, I guess I should have already shared my birth experience by now- maybe within the first month rather than over a year later but here it goes...

It was about 5pm on Wednesday 5th August 2020 when I first felt a few sharp pains but, at around 8pm (which was 8 hours after my sweep and about an hour after finishing the Chinese we ordered) it started; oh how it started. The ‘I think this baby is back-to-back’ nonchalant comment made by my midwife that morning would soon feel less like a tiny footnote and more like an all-block capital headline defining my birth experience. It did not start off ‘measly’ and contractions were not far apart as I had been led to believe; it was intense from the get go. I instinctively began hurling myself about looking like some misshapen, defective slinky just bouncing around the fucking room in an attempt to find comfort. I was bending over and rubbing my back like I was trying to start a fire, curling up tightly on my side like a fetus (just not MY fetus apparently) but the pain would not ease. I assumed this was labour- I mean what else could it have been- but it wasn't until I was squatted down in the bath wailing noises I didn't even know humans could make, that my partner called through to say that back-to-back babies can create back contractions rather than abdominal. Hearing that felt so significant; I realised this was going to be my labour and honestly it was kind of frightening. Though we had planned to labour for as long as possible at home, my contractions were already every four minutes and intense. The closeness of them (and P A I N) definitely rang alarm bells so we called the hospital and at 1:30; we were in the car and on our way to have a baby!

I had a reasonable expectation of what I was going to experience- or at least I thought I did. I had spent a lot of time researching my options and had written a very thorough birth plan, making everything as clear as I could out of my biggest anxiety which was just not being listened to. I had also spent my nights for the past month sitting with an inflatable birthing device up my vagina and listening to my partner explain the intricacies of my pelvis and how the muscles around my uterus work. Before even experiencing it, I felt I was somewhat of an expert at birth- and yes that confidence was somewhat (greatly) misguided but if I’m being honest, the positivity it brought is something I am still grateful for now. If anything, I’m glad I didn’t spend months dreading my birth but rather I was really excited for it.

As I said, my birth plan was thorough. I mean at least one whole page of it was just me trying to stress exactly how important it was not to say and do certain things that I may find triggering but I had also written what I had hoped for and what was a last resort. To be brief I had asked for a water birth in the birth centre, I had requested to not be offered any ‘pain relief’ and was aiming for a natural birth, and I definitely didn’t want to give birth on my back or have an episiotomy. The other things that were of great importance to us came after delivery which was that we wanted to discover the baby’s sex ourselves, wanted delayed cord clamping and wanted plenty of skin to skin. After the experience I had, I will always advocate for the importance of a birth plan. Whether you can really ‘plan’ these things or not, being informed and expressing your preferences really does matter.

When we arrived at the birth centre I felt a little calmer. The room was lovely and quiet and, though in pain I did manage to relax a little by sitting on a birth ball. It was definitely soothing and maybe I’m not remembering the pains very well but at that point I’m convinced I felt a little more sure of myself again. For that very brief moment, I think I’d regained some positivity despite the shock of contractions and I felt less frantic. Unfortunately this was short lived. After only 5 minutes, the midwife came back to tell me I wouldn't be able to give birth there and wouldn’t be able to have a water birth. The reason for this being that I had gone into hospital a few times with reduced movements that led to measurements indicating slowed growth. This was mainly down to prenatal anxiety (and I would learn that the measurements were way off anyway) but regardless she told me I couldn’t have the birth I wanted. I will always tell people to go to hospital if they’re concerned about movements and I don’t regret taking precautions but, had I not ended up taking intervention in the hospital anyway, I think I’d be more bitter about missing out on that birth environment. Things were already going wrong and I suddenly felt a wave of true sadness. We got into the new hospital room, I waited for her to leave and I just burst into tears. I wasn’t even heart set on having the water birth but now I had been moved from where I was comfortable and things were already changing. It felt heavy. That disruption will have no doubt had an effect on my state of mind; I don’t know if it was a significant effect but of course it made me unhappy and that’s not ideal when you’re trying to release oxytocin. I spent a good while after being relocated repeatedly asking if there was any chance of me being able to return to the birth centre after monitoring- it didn’t happen obviously but thinking back I was clearly unhappy with where I’d ended up.

At 5am (6/08/2020) I asked for paracetamol and cocodamol. I still didn’t want anything more but the pressure was getting too much and it was already so tiring. I had been awake from maybe 9am the day before and had been through so much already. It was taking its toll. I didn’t think that the tablets would work, I mean if they won’t soften a headache they were going to do fuck all for this but I guess I’m still glad I gave them a go considering I initially wanted a natural birth. At 9am I said I needed something else and they gave me pethidine. This did something, albeit mild. I was injected in my left leg and really more than anything it just made things feel weaker for a bit and so once this had worn off I asked for it again. There might have been something better but at this point I didn’t even care- I had tasted a slightly milder labour and I was not ready to go back to whatever hell I was experiencing before. It was the one thing I knew I didn’t mind and the one thing I knew was at least somewhat lessening to the pain so I was injected with another dose; this time into my right leg but it failed.

Had I been level headed I might have done a better job of going through my options but I can’t properly describe what happens to your mind and body during the throes of labour. You’re just sort of living every minute as it comes and the rest of the world is a blur- thinking with a level head was not an option. I now had my second midwife and she would prove herself to be a nightmare. She was quite young and so maybe new to the job and, though I thought they had all taken the time to read my birth plan, it seems upon reflection she didn’t.

At 10:30 I agreed to the epidural- something pre birth I had decided I didn’t want but because it’s a needle in the back I figured it actually might be the best bet considering the location of my contractions. Ideally she would have explained the ins and outs of the medication as I had requested in my birth plan but she didn’t. Not only that but she tried to ask me who I would like to administer the meds and, when I was in too much pain to respond due to a contraction, she continued to talk through it until I eventually shouted the name of one of the doctors she had listed. This might not bother everyone but again, when I very clearly stated ‘do not talk through contractions’ in my plan, it made my fucking blood boil.

When the doctor came he basically explained the stuff I already knew about the epidural. The one thing I didn’t know but could have done with someone warning me about was the catheter. Is that common knowledge? Probably but I hadn’t intended on having the epidural and from the research I did it was never mentioned. I mean it makes sense now but again, in the throes of labour I couldn’t really think straight. I hated that catheter; it was so uncomfortable and considering the epidural failed it was so not worth it. One side of my body (again the left- clearly there was something wrong with my right side that day) went numb which did feel significantly better and made the next 4 hours or so much easier but for some reason, in a sciatica-sort of fashion, whatever pains I had in the left of my lower back transitioned to the top of my right leg. They thought I must have had some tissue blocking the meds from reaching that area which meant I then had someone come and start removing and reinserting the needle to see if it made a difference, which it didn’t. I had been poked and prodded at for no reason and I was ready for that chapter of my labour to be over, but instead I was then left with a tube shoved up my piss hole unable to move and it was so uncomfortable.

At some point whilst waiting for the epidural to wear off (or maybe before I had even had the epidural, my understanding of chronology during this time is wavey) the worst part of my birth story took place. The midwife must have been doing a check or something and I don’t remember the exact context but I remember the pronoun. ‘She’ she said, There were so many things that could have been said that would have been imperfect or made me feel icky when reflecting on my birth but I was in so much discomfort they’d have gone over my head at the time, but not this. We hadn’t found out baby’s sex and I had also mentioned multiple times in my birth plan that we wanted to discover the sex for ourselves and that it should not be made into a big deal. I picked up on it right away and so did J and she apologised and said she didn’t know the sex but just used the pronoun. She then used it again later on and I called her out on it. I did think had she actually known then she wouldn’t have been daft enough to say it again but it upset us regardless. Of all the things I went through in those 27ish hours this is the one that hurt; this is the one that still hurts sometimes. When we eventually met our daughter that evening I know that, even with all of those emotions and relief, that midwife’s mistake still lingered and honestly, even though it now doesn’t matter, I think I hate her for it. That should have been an entirely happy moment but it felt like she had dampened it a bit; not ruined it of course but like she had stolen something from us. I get that most people won’t relate to that because nowadays gender reveals and pinks and blues are so normal and surprises are less ordinary but it mattered to us and she didn’t respect that. I looked it up multiple times and also asked midwives I know who assured me that she wouldn’t have known and that she clearly just chose a pronoun which does offer some comfort, but it doesn’t give us back our birth experience. Yeah I do hate her for it.

When she handed over to the next midwife I was relieved to see her go; we both were. I guess she must have been my midwife for the longest if they work 8 to 8 but like I said I really don’t have a clear memory of time; it all just feels like one blurry mess. I only know the times of drugs and things because J wrote it all down. So now it was 8pm I guess and I didn’t know it but there was a lot to come in just the 3 hours and 47 minutes before my daughter would be born. I had already been given an oxytocin drip a few hours earlier to help speed up the process- another little needle and this one was in my wrist right near the bone, or it was in my hand? I’m not sure. I had two things inserted in that area eventually so it was one of them. The other thing was Remifentanil that I had started at 7pm.

Nearer the end of my labour- around hour 25 I began to shit. If you’ve never gone through labour before or had a vaginal birth then, like me pre pregnancy, the risk of shitting yourself might have come to mind and made you cringe-a lot. Like the thought of going through something that embarrassing probably felt or feels so much worse than any pain you could be going through. And maybe you have given birth and you did shit yourself and had to call your midwife to clean it up and you still to this day feel weird about it, so hopefully now I’m going to make you feel a little better by sharing my experience. I don’t know if it had something to do with labouring in my back that caused such an explosion but somehow, despite the fact I hadn’t eaten since my contractions really started, I managed to shit for what must have been an entire hour. Every single contraction, a few minutes apart left me emptying my bowels and I know they say not to feel bothered by it because the midwives have ‘seen it all before’ but there’s got to be a first time and, judging by her reaction, this was definitely that for her. She left the room at one point and I’m absolutely certain it was just to go and spill the tea with the other midwives about what the fuck was going on with her patient. The real ‘telling’ moment that she didn’t know how to cope with the sheer mass of feces it that, because it was coming out so often, she kind of gave up with changing the mat every single time (because I was only going to go and shit again in a minute or so) and so, as a result, I spent about 45 minutes of my life, 45 minutes I can never undo, curled over to the side whilst the father of my child rubbed my back and wiped my shitty bum. But I digress.

After that whole thing, I recall being so sure that I had a giant turd still stuck in my bum and so I couldn’t possibly give birth until I had passed it. I know they say giving birth feels like you need a poo but I thought they meant the need to push not like my kids head was in my actual anus. It just felt like a huge log lodged up there and my partner was even like ‘babe, I think that’s baby’s head’ and I was shouting ‘no it’s not I need a shit’ and I’m laughing writing this because HOW EMBARRASSING! Okay I’m not really that embarrassed but such a face-palm moment that I was literally about to give birth and I thought my baby’s head was a massive ball of shit. At least pooing myself meant I was getting closer to delivery and when you get to that point you’re so ready for it all to be over that you can’t possibly care about whatever gross stuff you’re doing.

Like I said I was getting closer to giving birth and the want to push was getting stronger with each contraction. I started to move kind of frantically. I mean it felt frantic but it was all within the bed; it was just the most and fastest I'd moved in quite a while. I had medical staff panicking as I wrapped wires around me and tugged them as I moved; risking tearing them clean out of my body. I just didn't care. I ended up in a squat position which was far more comfortable but I had very little strength and my daughters head was yoyoing. In out in out and as hard as I tried to hold her in position whilst breathing her out I just didn't have the energy- no doubt a combination of being awake for the past 36 hours, being pumped with multiple heavy drugs and of course all the emotional weight. I'd been at this for a long time and, upon reflection I wish I had just been stronger. It's hard to remember exactly how strong I actually was and to remind myself that I wasn't a failure but birth trauma is a strange thing. As I was clawing the back of my hospital bed a woman entered the room and informed me that she had read my birth plan and she understood it wasn’t what I wanted, but that it was becoming 'necessary' to have an episiotomy.

Everyone talks about how motherhood changes you and it definitely does but, because people don’t really talk about their birth stories (at least not thoroughly), you don’t get to truly understand or appreciate what giving birth does to you. Good or bad or more likely a complicated and indescribable mixture of the two, birth is transcendent and magical and phenomenal. No matter how you do it, your own personal birth is incredible. Reflecting on my whole labour and birth I get mixed emotions. Sometimes I feel as though it was such a beautiful experience and it makes me tear up with happiness; other times it hurts my chest to think about how different it could have been, how it could have been a lot more peaceful and how deserving I was of that. Although every minute was significant to me, those last few moments of my labour in particular are now a detailed part of who I am. As I lay there (yes on my back, the one position I didn’t want to be in) with my legs lifted in the air trying so hard to push my baby out before I was going to be cut, there was nothing tactful or sensible about it, it was just pure primal instinct. I knew I was too tired and I didn’t care about my partners feelings as I grabbed hold of him and shouted when he told me I could do it. I did feel helpless and I was desperate to avoid the episiotomy but I was ready to be done now and finally meet our baby. I don’t really remember the injection to numb me and I didn’t feel being cut open though J swears it was not pretty, but I remember the forceps. Oh forceps. After everything I’d been through I guess one more pain on top isn’t anything really but I thought she was going to just tear me open. And I know I was already torn open but like my insides. It was a split second of pain but I screamed out. For that short instance I really contemplated whether it was possible for your vagina to become so stretched that it just breaks open.

We had a head. She was facing the right way as, at some point during labour she had turned around; the contractions just didn’t move with her. I thought it was so tiny to look at. I guess because it had felt so big inside me that looking at a little baby head sticking out from in between my legs just wasn’t what I expected. Her body shortly followed and time stood still. Only briefly and surprisingly not just because I now had a baby, but because of her dad's face. The short moment as they grabbed her in a towel to pass her to me and I lay back in relief and looked at him and with tears in his eyes he told me he was so proud of me. And just like that it was as if nothing had happened. I felt the effects of it all but all the pains and discomfort and frustration all just floated away with just one look at him; he was so happy. We held our baby and checked the sex. We had a daughter and she was beautiful. So small and squishy.