Chaletgirl

There’s something a bit strange about being induced. There’s no dash to the hospital, no middle of the night calls to get Mum to come and mind Henry, no waters breaking in public places. No drama. No surprises. Or so I thought.

In the end, I was induced because I was tired of being pregnant, I was overdue, and my obstetrician had a weekend away booked for his wedding anniversary. Not that I knew that at the time, but, hey, since it was our wedding anniversary on that same weekend, I could fully understand.

So, in we went on that mild Wednesday night in December. I had made it to Henry’s preschool Christmas concert that morning, and the three of us had been out for lunch and really enjoyed our last day as a family of three. My Dad was at home minding Henry and my husband and Mum were both on standby to wait for labour.

When the midwife checked me, she found I was already 3cm dilated. She was concerned that if she gave me the Cervidil as was planned, to ripen the cervix and get things moving, that labour would happen very quickly, during the night, instead of 10-12 hours later as planned. A quick call to my obstetrician confirmed that he didn’t want to be out all night to go ahead in case a theatre was needed in the middle of the night.

The midwife suggested gently that I would probably go into labour overnight all by myself. I told her she was kidding. This child wasn’t coming out that easily. I suspected I had been 3cm dilated for some time, and she was still very comfortable in there.

In the end, they offered me sleeping tablets to get a good night’s sleep and they would see me in the morning. My husband said I jumped at the offer of sleeping tablets just a little too quickly…..but seriously, would you knock them back at 9+ months pregnancy? I would have thought they were a big no-no whilst pregnant, but if someone wants to hand me a good night’s sleep on a platter with glass of water, then count me in.

In the morning, the same midwife was surprised that nothing had happened overnight and I tried to hide the smug smile that clearly said “I told you so”. (It was becoming apparent that being 9+ months pregnant was making me a little on the grumpy side).

My Mum and my husband arrived early, at about 6am, probably less surprised that nothing was going on, but excited and ready for our big day. By this stage I was 4-5 cm dilated, but still with no painful contractions. It was my turn to be surprised, because I remembered the pain that I went through in Henry’s labour to get to 4cm and it was at this stage that I was begging for “the man with the big needle to get in here NOW”.

I don’t think I mentioned this before, but I was adamant about not having an epidural this time. I felt that they slowed things down last time and made a bigger drama out of Henry’s birth than needed to be. He ended up being delivered by forceps, a common occurrence after having an epidural, and I wanted to do it my way this time.

My obstetrician arrived at about 8:30am and we had a quick chat about the plan for the day. He was going to break my waters, give me a few hours to go into labour on my own, and if that didn’t work, he would pull out the heavy drugs and get things moving. At 8:45am he broke my waters in a great gush. At 9:00am Mum left to get coffee refills and we sat and waited.

By 9:15am I was in labour and Mum was surprised to find things happening when she returned. I might have been firm about the epidural, but I was begging the midwife for gas by about 9:30am. (Isn’t that gas great? Almost convinced me that recreational drug use has it’s merits).

Once I got on the gas things were a bit blurry for me. I liked that I could still feel the pain so I knew what was happening, but the gas played with my head so it didn’t seem so bad. I got into a good rhythm, starting early in the contraction and dropping it just past the peak so I could ride it out without feeling sick. A few times I misjudged the peak and stopped the gas a little too early, and holy crap that hurt.

I remember having a few more internal examinations. One pronounced me 6cm dilated, and the following at 7cm just as I told her she had better not say 7cm – I wanted to hear 8cm. She looked at me for a moment and then said. “Well, 7-8cm. I’ll give you your 8″.

At that point they called my obstetrician to return. I remember it was 11:00am. The midwives seemed surprised that things were moving so quickly until I slurred “talk to Mum about her second labour”. All eyes turned to Mum and she said “one hour from waters breaking at home to birth”. Then nobody seemed surprised in the slightest.

My obstetrician returned by 11:30am, amidst my concern about whether he would take the motorway or not, and how fast his car was. It seemed the most important thing in the world at that time. Love that gas.

He did another internal, and that’s apparently when things started to go a little awry. There was some head shaking and a few ‘oh dears’ and “OP” muttered. I wasn’t aware of any of this, luckily, but I know it caused some anguish for my husband and, particularly, my mother.

It turned out that Emmeline was in the “Occiput Posterior” position. Which basically means she was still head down, but facing up, with her back against my back. Apparently it results in a much more painful and usually much longer labour as the head is not designed to come out that way. Also the hard part of the skull ends up grinding against the mother’s tailbone – instead of the soft, squashy face. Yikes.

I wasn’t aware of the implications of an OP birth, which I think is very much a good thing. I was just told that she was the wrong way around, and I was flipped onto my side to try and turn her. When it came time to push, she wasn’t ready, but I was, and I do remember my body trying to push her out to no avail. I was worried that my pelvis wasn’t opening up, but I was assured that I was past that stage.

I don’t remember when, but she did turn around, the correct way, at some stage and then I got to push for real. She was out, face down, to the point of her forehead, and then, my husband told me later, she did an 180 degree swivel and was back to face up. At that stage there was nothing to be done about turning her. I remember that she was stuck between contractions at some terribly painful point (I reckon it was widest point of her head) and I thought that was almost unbearable. However I could hear my obstetrician say that I was in a very painful place right now and I swear I loved him with all my heart for understanding that without me needing to say a word.

Another 2 contractions and finally she was out at 12:42pm after just 3.5 hours of labour.

Emmeline at 12:48pm

She was all appropriately gooey and bloody and just beautiful. Before long she was latched on and feeding away, to my great surprise. She seemed to know exactly what to do. Eventually she was taken away for weighing and measuring and checking and we were (again) surprised to find she was a hefty 8lbs 13 oz, or 4.0 kilos exactly.

The next day, my obstetrician’s fill-in (who I was quite familiar with from the episode in hospital with the bleeding) came to visit and was very impressed to discover I had delivered a 4 kilo baby, OP, with no epidural in 3.5 hours.

“Aw, shucks, it was nothing”, I said modestly.

“You should have 6 babies if you can deliver them like that,” he said.

“Shhhh!! Don’t let my husband hear you say that!!” I exclaimed. Six! The man had clearly been spending too much time around that gas machine.

I guess if she had been the right way up it would have been a lot quicker, but I am very grateful as I have since heard many stories of 30+ hour OP labours. And who knows if it really was more painful? With Henry I only gave a few feeble pushes before the forceps were brought in, and I had had an epidural. So I had nothing to compare this labour against. Yes, it was very painful, but, hello, it’s childbirth and it’s not supposed to be a walk in the park, is it?

But, yes, as I told my mother just two hours after Emmeline arrived, I would do it again. As much as it hurt, I loved it. It was an incredibly empowering experience.

I know that I could never have done it without my husband and my Mum who were amazing supporters through the whole experience. I know that it wasn’t easy for them to see me like that. They had no gas to blur any reality. But I was very, very conscious of both of them, on either side, helping me and encouraging me, and for that I will be ever, ever grateful.

Emmeline

Originally uploaded by chaletgirl13

We’re home. All good. More soon.

Thank you for all your lovely messages while we were in hospital.