This is the second part of my mini series of blogs I’ll be posting, about my experience from pregnancy to post-natal depression and how I’m trying to overcome it.
On the night, my water broke, I had woken from my sleep feeling like I had wet myself, I never had any pain, so I was feeling embarrassed, as it could have been the pressure of the baby moving onto the bladder. He was due soon and this night was matching more our dates than the midwifes, that thought hadn’t entered my head at that moment, but it had my partners. I had managed to get myself back to sleep and by morning my contractions had started. They weren’t too bad, so we got our hospital stuff together, prepared ourselves for the next time we came back home, that there would be another human with us, that would be dependent on us, for the rest of our lives, we loaded the car and headed to pick up my sister, who was meant to be my other birthing partner. Sitting in the back of the car feeling ok, but slightly overwhelmed that the day had finally arrived.
On arrival at the hospital, I was told that I needed to be 4cm yet and I should go home and come back a bit later, but instead of doing that, we had a walk around the hospital and after no more than 2 hours we went back in, and I was there and ready to be taken into the labour room. I wanted a water birth, but I wasn’t ready to go in there yet and was waiting in another room. By now the contractions where getting worse and they advised gas and air, which I tried but it made me sick, they asked me to keep trying it to help with the pain, but each time I would vomit. In the end I just gave up as it seemed it was making me feel worse, being sick then the actual contractions themselves.
It was time for me to enter that birthing pool, but I could feel something wasn’t right and just put it down to new feelings from the first time giving birth. I was in there for a good few hours I would say, and I actually fell asleep in the pool while having contractions. Eventually I had to give up on the idea of a water birth. I was then moved into my next room (number 3) that is where I am going to give birth or so I thought. As time passed and the baby no longer moving any further, I got that feeling again, saying to myself, my partner and nurses, that it doesn’t feel right, like he’s stuck. We let the nurses and doctors carry on with looking, prodding, adding wires and drips, as it is there job not ours. I just thought it must be normal to feel that way seeing as I was trying to push out a baby.
My sister had decided to go home at this point, as the nurses/doctors had mentioned that it would probably be morning before my baby boy arrived. By then it had been nearly 24 hours since my waters had broken. I was feeling tired, and I can’t even imagine how my partner was feeling, he stayed awake the night before. It was then that it all started to downhill, my blood pressure and heart rate had dropped and so had my baby’s. The next bit is a bit of a blur, but the need to get the baby out quick was becoming apparent. I was asked to push more and more, but it wasn’t making any different. A consultant came in and spoke to us and mentioned, that I would need an emergency c section or if I didn’t take that option, I could keep trying but it could result in the worst-case scenario, for not just one of us but both. Me and partner said we wanted the c section, but my partner wanted to make sure I wanted too, as it was me going through it. To think back now at what it must have been like for him, seeing his partner and unborn child in danger and chances of not only losing one but both of us and not being able to help the situation, must have been horrendous. I had some forms to fill out before I was allowed to be taken into theatre.
In the next one I will talk about the theatre and birth.
Till then see ya.