Posts tagged labour

Birthing Experience No. 2 and Other Stories

I say and other stories because I can’t seem to manage making a quick comment without giving a horrendously long back story.  This basically covering my arse for any prolonged waffle that ensues.  I don’t know how much I can say about birthing experience no. 2 because for a lot of it…well, let’s just say it wasn’t a normal day in the life of Claire.  For many months, I was adamant that I was not going to be having a birthing experience no. 3 but I’ve been quite broody of late so who knows.  Just to warn you I swear a lot while giving birth so don’t read if you don’t want to see my bad language.

 I was somewhat…hormonal for the whole of my second pregnancy.  I didn’t see my doctor until I was about five or six months along, I had only told my family a couple of months before that but they had already guessed apparently.  They could have told me.

Just want to interrupt to say something about my son.  He goes to speech therapy but he can say swear words as well as me.  He calls his private parts a penis and sometimes, if he wants to show off, he pulls out his waistband, points down and shouts, Look!  My penis!!  It can be a teensy bit embarrassing.  My partner is sitting beside me reading a newspaper right now.  He mentioned in a semi-quiet voice that a celebrity on the reality tv programme, I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here, had to crocodile eyes and some sort of animal penis in a challenge.  A little voice from the bedroom shouts out, “A penis?!  Where penis?  Oh my God!”  He doesn’t understand these words, he just likes to say them and I can’t tell him not to say that because I’m just happy that he’s saying anything at all really.  Anyway, my point is how is it, that a child can be in another room, not listening to adults talk yet manages to pick up on the one word in the sentence that you are least likely to want them to shout about??

 Back to my birthing story.  I know you are all going to be horrified but while I was pregnant, I didn’t go to the hospital until I was 38 weeks along.  I had a reason for avoiding the hospital.  I have a huge fear of blood tests, I feel weak talking about them, I used to pass out quite frequently at the mention of the “B” word, ya know that stuff that runs around your body.  Blech.  I already had a huge fear of blood tests but after my first son, I was determined to never get one done again because he was born a month prematurely on the day I was due one.  I was very stressed out at the thought of it for at least a couple of weeks beforehand and I am certain that it at least contributed to his early birth.

My doctor is a very nice man, I actually asked for him to be my doctor on my ante-natal visits because my mother had such great experiences with him.  He was incredibly understanding and unlike like some of the nurses, he could see that giving me a test would put me under undue stress and he didn’t try to force me into it.  He did tell me to pack my bags because I was ready to pop.  I had an appointment for a week later but he told me I wouldn’t make it.  He was right 🙂

I experienced Braxton Hicks for the last couple of months of my pregnancy.  People always say you know when it’s the real thing especially if you’ve given birth before but I sure as hell did not.  I had no idea because my Braxton Hicks felt like the real thing and therefore my real thing felt like my Braxton Hicks.  I had some pains one night, so I ran a bath to ease it as I often did.  That worked.  For a while.  Then I noticed the pains seemed to be quite regular.  I called my partner and told him I thought this was it.  He said okay, went back to bed and fell asleep.  Do you see the pattern here?

I stayed there for a while, got a whopper of a pain, had a show, got out of the bath.  This was at about half six or seven.  I forget.  Time wasn’t relevant for me at that stage.  Of course, neither of us had credit on our mobile phones so he ran down to the shop to get some, rang my mother asking could she take our son who was in the sitting room watching cartoons.  I was lying on my bed at this stage, actually afraid to move.  While he was gone, I suddenly felt like I had to push and my waters broke at that instant.  I had a real, oh, crap sensation.

He comes back, I say, my waters have broken, could you be an absolute dear and ring the hospital for me for I am unable to talk right now.  I communicated this using grunts and hand gestures but he understood me.  He gets me.  He rings the hospital and tells them the story.  They tell him to bring me in.

 I scream at him.  “Are you fucking stupid?!  I just told you my waters broke and I have to push, tell the fucking midwife that I have to fucking well push right now!  You twat!!”

So much love in our home.

He starts stuttering and tries to relay my message but I’m pretty sure the midwife heard my version.  She tells him to call an ambulance.  This bit I don’t get.  Why the feck can’t I ring a hospital and get them to send me an ambulance, do they not know I’m having a baby right now?!

He calls the ambulance.   The pain is unreal.  I’m cracking up.  “They better give me something, they better give me something…” became my mantra.  It felt like they were never going to arrive.  It felt like my body was actually ripping itself apart.  I nearly expected a scene out of Alien to take place in my bedroom.  Mr. Claire really outdid himself on the stupid comments that day.  Did he not learn from the first time?

He stands by the bed, looking at me, then says, “do you not want to get some more clothes on?”

Where did he think the baby was going to come out of, my mouth?  By the way, I had to force him to ring the ambulance and let them in.  He wanted me to walk down the stairs.  Walk down the stairs from the top floor while a baby was just about to come out of me??  Idiot!  Why did he not want the ambulance people to come in?  Because the flat was a complete mess.  Great.  I was too far gone to be ashamed.

The ambulance crew arrived.  5 minutes after we called them.  A man and a woman.  They stood there, looking at me, debating amongst themselves whether they had time to take me to the hospital or not.  I gave a couple of hard pushes, nothing happened, I started to doubt myself because those two couldn’t tell if I was about to have the baby.  I freaked out.  “Oh my God!  You two don’t have a clue what you’re doing!!  Jesus, help me!”  I screamed at them.  I felt like something was wrong.  I don’t know how or why, I just didn’t feel like things were right.

The paramedics got all jumpy and started pretending to do stuff.  I told them I was going to make it easier for them.  “I’m not moving out of this bed, we’re having this baby right here.”  Please remember my darling little boy was still patiently watching cartoons in the next room.  On my first labour, Mr. Claire was really useful, he calmed me down, helped me along.  But this time he was useless.  He kept wandering off and I had to shout at him to get back in.  Everytime I asked him for ice or “For the love of God, do something!” he would ask sulkily what he was supposed to do.

I now pity the paramedics, I was a monster.  I asked them for some precious gas and air.  They seemed relieved to just have something to do.  They fought over who could go and get it and who was stuck with me…glaring at them.  I know this sounds long but from first push to last it was only about 30 or 40 minutes.  I sucked that gas and air dry by the way, they had to replace the canister for me 🙂

Things get a little bit wierd now.  They tell me I passed out and the paramedics didn’t notice until Mr. Claire told them.  They started to panic, they could see the baby, they got the forceps ready.

My weird ass version of events:

 I fell under, into darkness.  There was no pain, it was peaceful.  I smiled to myself because I knew what I had to do.  A spectrum of sound slowed down everyone’s speech but I knew that they had already finished talking.  The words were drawn out for so long but I knew that when the sound stopped, everything would be over.  I was preparing for one last push.  I could hear the voices again, panicking, they didn’t know I was in control.  I heard the word “forceps” and realised I had to get back before it was too late.  I held on tight and pushed my daughter into the world.

Back to reality (aren’t you relieved):

They told me that I woke up pushing just before they tried to assist me.  They had tried to wake me but couldn’t.  The cord was wrapped around the baby’s neck.  It was very fortunate that I hadn’t gone into labour by myself or my daughter could have died.  I shiver when I think how close it came.   I wanted to stay home but girl paramedic said we had to go.  I couldn’t give birth to the placenta so had to wait til we got to hospital.  I couldn’t stop shaking.  It was a freezing february morning when they carried me and my daughter out to the ambulance.  I was so cold but I was so happy it was unreal.  It was pure bliss. 

In the hospital, the midwives all thought I was off my head because I had just given birth at home but I needed gas and air to help me sit through getting a needle.  Everything after that was a bit of a blur.  It still felt like a dream, it had been too easy.  I felt like I was going to wake up and still be pregnant.   They put me in a room on my own, took the baby for a long time then gave her back and left us alone for two days until we went home.  It was brilliant.  I hate nurses messing around near me so to be left pretty on our todd was heaven.  The bad part was my son.  He had been scared when I was taken to the ambulance.  He wouldn’t even look at me when he visited me in hospital which was a bit heart breaking but he was back to his old self when I got home.

I have never tried to explain what birthing experience no. 2 was like because it was completely surreal.  My baby was a healthy 8lbs 8oz by the way.  And she was beautiful.  And she was a good baby.  And I was the luckiest Mammy in the world.


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Birthing Experiences and a Random Irritation

That kind of sounds like I have an itch…Hmm…Just wanted to complain about dealing with teenagers for a minute 🙂  I know I sound like a grouch but for heaven’s sake is there something they get fed in school that turns some of them into whining, ungrateful brats??  I confess, I was probably the same when I was about 15 or so, maybe this is payback.  Since I left school, I’ve always seemed to have some kind of dealings with teenagers, my first “real” job was supposed to be an office job but ended up with me dealing with the teens because I could manage them.  I couldn’t really but I was the youngest staff member so they could relate and some of them did go back to school or make good choices.  But there is always a few.  A few that no matter what anyone does, they have something to moan about.  I’m being quite vague today, aren’t I?  But I sometimes get irritated in a vague sort of way…:)

 Alright so, back to business, now I forewarned you that I was thinking about talking about my birthing experiences.  I love hearing about other people’s but I think it’s the type of thing that only someone who has gone through it can be interested in.  I’ve been trying to think of how I can relay the tale but I’ve hit a bit of a wall so I’m just going to let the rambling do the work!

I have two children, my boy is three, my girl will be 9months on Monday, woo!  While I was pregnant with my boy, I absolutely loved being pregnant, loved being kicked, I did everything right, was extra careful and did absolutely no exercise.  It’s hard to want to move when you resemble a small yet rotund elephant.  I had horrendous morning sickness and crazy back pain straight away that lasted pretty much til I gave birth.  I had a show at 30 weeks, went into hospital for the night, got some steroid injections to help the baby’s lungs develop quicker – just in case.  But it was all part of the parcel, I used to love snuggling into Mr. Claire when the baby would kick hard and the power of them would wake him up, that used to amuse me a lot.  I had a lot of time on my hands because I had to give up work 🙂

At 36 weeks, I got up out of bed at about 1am to use the bathroom.  On the way there, I flooded the floor.  First reaction – what the….?  Second reaction – omfg!  Woke up Mr. Claire who told me to go back to sleep.  Woke him up again, made him look at the evidence.   He nodded and agreed that I didn’t, as he thought, wet mysef.  Nice.  Thanks for that.  He then put on a video of Indiana Jones, got into bed and started snoring again.  Then I started to get pains.  I gave him a quick elbow in the back, he said ok, hold on and found me a pen and a puzzle book, got into bed, went back to sleep.  

 I gave him up as a lost cause and decided to try and time my pains.  I’m not so good with this bit.  It never makes any sense.  A while later the pains became a bit…ouchy.  I woke him up again and said he better bring me to the hospital right now or else.  He rang my mother (who was drunk by the way) and asked her was I serious.  She started giggling (on account of being drunk) and told the rest of the house who got all over-excited.  She told him he better bring me to the hospital right now or else (I presume this was between the hiccuping) and then said sorry, Claire, I can’t go with you, I’m drunk.  Yes, I sort of guessed that when you started giggling.

So he ran around and tried to repack the hospital bag – the bag we had already repacked every week of my pregnancy and still didn’t have ready.  Being two complete idiots, the smallest vests and babygros we brought were aged 3-6 months.  Yes, seriously, like I said we were both idiots and people kept telling me I had to be having twins or a monster of a baby.  Turns out it was neither but people say things, when it’s your first time, you listen.

So we went outside and tried to hail a taxi.  It was sort of hard to do this when I kept doubling over in pain and refusing to move.  The pains were pretty close together, it wasn’t pretty.  Of course, we managed to get the one male taxi driver who had given birth himself…Oh, yes, apparently giving birth isn’t so bad because “we’ve” done it four times already.  Screw you taxi driver, you try dealing with a contracting womb while a dumbass taxi driver talks crap to you.  I wanted to hurt that man…so bad but I decided not to do anything that would affect my chances of actually getting to the hospital.

 This is looking like the longest post ever, sorry about that…

So, we got to the hospital, I’m in bits at this stage, grinding my teeth and muttering something about chopping up taxi drivers, my waters have apparently not flooded my flat enough, they have to embarrass me whilst I’m wearing pale coloured bottoms in the hospital too.  My mother had rang the hospital I think, bit vague on this but whatever, they were waiting for us.  So they hurried me in…then left me in an office.  Um…

We sat in that stupid office with me leaking on the chair for about ten minutes, then someone came in and gave us forms to fill.  Are you freaking kidding me?  I’m about to pop a baby onto your precious faux leather chairs that are easy to wipe down!  They brought me to another room.  Wow, that was such a calming experience.  While we waited there, we could hear the sounds of screaming women all around us.  I’ll never forget those screams, the most terrifying sounds I’ve ever heard.  Ever.  Even scarier than that bit in Salem’s Lot.  We looked at each other, pale faced, I could see that Mr. Claire was just as terrified as me and for the first time in my whole pregnancy, my whole 8 months of vomiting when I drank even water, 8 months of back pain, 8 months of waddling around like a heifer, he looked like he felt sorry for me.  Breakthrough…Seriously…

They took me into a room and examined me.  One foreign student midwife that was an angel in the darkness, one bitchy toerag midwife that I should have punched in the face.  They got sort of panicky when they found out I was prematurely in labour. “Yes, but only a tiny bit premature,” I said.    Apparently that didn’t matter much.  They wrapped all kinds of crap about my stomach, I felt totally strapped down but it was nice to hear the baby’s freaky heartbeat.  I suddenly got the worst pain ever in my life and the student foreign midwife showed me how to breathe through the pain.  The other one sneered at me and said, “Eh, what are you going on about.  You’re not having bad contractions yet.”

 Excuse me??

My one regret is that I didn’t punch her.  Luckily the angel kept me calm, I wanted her to stay with me. Anyway, I told the cranky toerag that actually, yes, yes I was having bad contractions.  She didn’t believe me.  With a bored sigh she asked me did I think I should be examined.  I was like, well duh.  So she *roughly* examined me, made me cry out in pain, then said I was 3cm dilated.  To be honest, I was like, is that it?  But they rushed me down to the delivery room. 

On a side note, my mother was 8cms dilated with her youngest before they agreed to examine her, the tossers.  If they’re busy, they try and persuade women that they aren’t in labour, the mad cows.

So, I had to leave my angel behind and was brought into a nice delivery room.  Peaceful atmosphere, it was quite nice.  There were two lovely midwives with me taking care of me but they strapped me to the bed too.  I would have liked to walk around a bit or something but they were still all panicky for some reason.  The pain got worse – at one weak point I begged for some pain relief.  “Anything, for the love of God, anything!”

They showed me the needle for the epidural.  “Um, actually, maybe anything except that.”  Why would anyone ask for a huge needle in their spine??  They offered me gas and air, bliss…I felt like I was drunk, I had to keep my eyes closed because the room kept spinning.  I was exhausted at this stage.  We got to the hospital about three and it was now 5 or 6 in the morning.  They started to ask me why I was using the air when I wasn’t having a contraction.  To be honest, I was asleep with the thing against my face but they didn’t notice, hehe.

It finally got near enough time to push, the midwives had asked Mr. Claire to take some clothes out for the baby and then left us alone for a few minutes.  In the middle of a BIG contraction, he picks up two vests and asks me which one should he leave out.  “I don’t give two fucks which one you pick, leave me the fuck alone!” I growled.  Actually I must have shouted because the midwives came running back in as if expecting to see a new baby on the bed beside me.

Soon enough, I begged them to let me go to the toilet.  The midwife told me she didn’t think I needed to go to the toilet but I disagreed.  She said she thought I would just have a baby on the toilet but she let me go but I changed my mind at the thoughts of actually moving. 

I soon felt like it was time to push, it’s funny how your body knows what to do.  But I kept it quiet, I needed a few minutes to get used to the idea first, then I called the midwives back in.  They positioned me on my side and made me hold my own leg in the air.  That was mean.  I was tired.  Did I have to do all the work? The pain was pretty bad but pushing made the pain a lot easier, it was like pushing the pain away.

I said before I was an idiot, I meant that, I didn’t even know that you only push during a contraction.  So, armed with some new information, I gripped onto Mr. Claire and focused on him only, I didn’t even hear what the midwives were saying to me anymore.  He told me that they could see the head but everytime I stopped pushing, it went back in a little bit.  I was like “Oh.”  And pushed as hard and long as I could three times, then at 8:08am my son shot out, tearing me completely and sending some sort of liquid – I dread to think – straight into the midwife’s mouth.  I saw this and was like wtf?  I swear, I didn’t even realise the baby was out at that stage, I didn’t even know he was a boy, I was still wondering what flew into the midwife’s mouth.  I didn’t even notice them pull the afterbirth away. But she was nice, she stayed til after her shift to be with me. 

Suddenly the room filled with people.  A doctor brought in about seven students to see my baby who was being cleaned up and dressed.  He was showing them how to check a newborn.  Who, by the way, weighed 7lbs 1oz.  He was beautiful, absolutely gorgeous, I was so blown away, I even let Mr. Claire name him. But I was only allowed hold him for a couple of minutes because they wanted to let the student stitch me up, thanks again for that lads. Mr. Claire got to hold the baby for about two hours while I used gas and air to get stitches. It was horrible and seemed to last forever. There was also a witch of a midwife who kept coming into the room, looking and making faces, I really wanted to hurt this one, especially later when she gave me a suppository (sp?) without even asking. That really pissed me off. Apparently, I’m a very angry person 🙂

They took my baby to the neo natal unit because he wouldn’t feed and he stayed there for two days. It was pretty horrible so I can’t even imagine how the parents of long term residents feel. I asked them could I go home every single day but I had to wait five days before they let me go. They treated me okay in the hospital but I couldn’t wait to take the wee fella home where I could be comfortable. I had a nice surprise because Mr. Claire had finally sorted out the place and it looked lovely with the crib set up and stuff. Even though I was exhausted, I sat up at night just staring at the baby, watching him sleep. I was just amazed by him, it was great. He was totally worth the horrendous pain!

I didn’t even mean to talk about this, I meant to talk about giving birth to my daughter at home! I guess I’ll have to save that one for tomorrow or something. Sorry for the long ass detailed post, it’s the first time I’ve really written about it. 🙂

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