Nicole and Adam
I woke in the early morning light to a new sensation. In my half-awake state it felt as though there were a wave of energy passing through the room and over me, washing from my feet to my head, lingering longer as it passed over and through my womb. “Hmm,” I thought, “this could be it. Better take a look at the time, so if another comes along I’ll know what to say to the midwife”. I was also only barely awake, and thinking that the next one would probably come along in about 10 minutes, realised if I fell asleep between times, I wouldn’t know the spacing. I peered at the clock- 5am. I snuggled back down in the duvet, but had barely closed my eyes before another came along. Can that be right? Less than 3 minutes apart? And how long are these things lasting, anyhow? 45 seconds! I started doing the yoga “ocean breathing”, and felt completely comfortable and at ease. So perhaps just strong Braxton-Hicks? Even though up to now they had been completely sensation free? I stopped breathing through a surge or two, and felt immediately crampy and uncomfortable. I looked at my watch again – 25 minutes or so of consistent 3 minute apart surges, lasting at least 45 seconds each. Time to wake Adam up.
I asked him to do the timing as well, just to check, and also got up to move my bowels. I asked him to wait before calling Liz just in case I was confusing digestive cramps with proper contractions (!), but I knew right from the start that it was all happening. They continued as before, unabated, completely comfortable as long as I kept breathing.
Adam phoned Liz at 5:45, and she said she would be on her way, just to ring her if they stopped or spaced out further. I felt sort of calm and excited at the same time. Any anxieties or fears I had had up to then just melted away. “I’m doing this” I thought “finally, I’m doing this, and it’s all going to be fine”. I was full of confidence and felt strong and powerful and not exactly in control, but up for any challenges that might lie ahead.
Adam got up to start filling up the pool, and after a short while, rather than stay in bed on my own, I relocated to the “birthing chamber”, aka the foaling box, and snuggled into a nest of duvets. Knowing that Liz was on her way, and confident that we really had started on our journey towards birthing our baby, I took off my watch and threw it onto a straw bale. Adam made porridge and tea, and although I had to pause for the surges, both went down very well. I snuggled back down, noticing that the feelings were getting stronger and more intense, and that the gaps between them seemed very short. I had thought I might bounce around on the birthing ball (formerly known as the gym ball), and do some yoga to while away the early hours, but neither felt appropriate. I felt I had to concentrate on the breathing. This definitely passed the “can’t do anything else at the same time” criterion, that Liz had mentioned for the contractions, not because they were too painful, just that in order not to feel them as painful, I had to breathe, breathe well, and get the timing right.
The sound system decided not to recognise that it had a cd in it, and we had to use a portable one, the one I’d been using for all that relaxation and affirmation practise over the last few months. The thermometer also turned out to be broken. Neither felt like a particularly good start, but at least we had power and hot water, which given the floods that were sweeping the county at the time, were not guaranteed!
I didn’t know what time Liz arrived. It was very reassuring to have her there, although I hadn’t been worried, as I knew we were still a way off. I got the sense that she was perhaps expecting a slightly different scene, and she said something like “not breathing that baby out quite yet, then?”, but when she felt the surges and timed them, she seemed happy that it really was all happening. She said wonderfully encouraging things, like “ooh, that was a good one”, and “what an efficient uterus!”, and “what a wonderful baby-birther you are”. She checked the baby’s heartbeat, which was strong, and had good variability, and also my blood pressure and pulse. Having seen me the day before and noticing a bit of a raise in my blood pressure, she said “I should have taken more notice of that – often a sign that something is imminent”. With all the breathing and relaxation, however, my blood pressure was low – 90 over 50, and my pulse was down to pre-pregnancy levels, of around 52 beats per minute. “You’re beautifully relaxed” she commented.
I was vaguely aware of her sorting things out – she’d brought down the equipment that had been stored in the studio. I had meant to say “don’t bother with the entonox” because I knew I wasn’t going to use it, but it was one of the first things to be brought down. I gathered she was probably preparing the resus station for the baby should he need it, and various other things. I had taken great care not to look too closely at the very medical looking stuff in the boxes, just in case it put me off at all.
She also took the time to remind herself about the various Hypnobirthing terms and to read the scripts and affirmations – some of which she found very moving. I was reminded of the day Tara had read us “the mother’s conversation with her unborn baby”, and the Daddy’s promise, and how we had all come out of the relaxation with wet faces!
We had brought a bucket into the foaling box for me to pee into to save having to keep going into the house, but for as long as I felt mobile it seemed like a good opportunity to get up and move around from time to time. The weather was miserable, but never seemed to be raining heavily when I needed to nip to the house. The pool had been ready for a little while, so after a quick wee, I climbed in, and it felt wonderful. Lovely warm water and that welcome feeling of weightlessness. The surges continued as before, not abating, probably even getting a bit stronger and closer together. “Good sign” I thought, knowing that if I had got in too soon, there was a chance that the water could actually cause the surges to stop. I didn’t feel the pool made much difference to the intensity of the surges, at least, nothing like the difference the breathing made. I tried another surge without breathing through it, and caught a glimpse of how I would be feeling if I weren’t in such a deeply relaxed state. I was feeling a bit hot, and drank plenty of water while more cold water was added to the pool. Liz took my temperature, and was a bit concerned that it was a little high, given that the baby’s temperature would be a degree more than mine. So I got out for another wee, and spent some time curled up in the duvets again. By this time, the candles were lit, the incense was burning, the amazing opening flower lights were on, and the music was playing. Whilst Adam had been out doing something – perhaps helping bring the horses in – or getting something, Liz had changed the music, and the player had decided to work normally again.
Whenever I went into the house, I stole a quick glance at the clock, and was always surprised at how much time had passed. I had read the bit in the Hypnobirthing book about time distortion – being able to experience 20 minutes as 5 minutes, and I wonder if that’s what was going on, or if in fact just being so relaxed meant that time passed so seamlessly. Certainly, not looking at a watch all the time helped. Adam made a prediction at around 11o’clock that it would be a couple of hours more, and I didn’t feel that was unrealistic at the time, but as Liz pointed out, we can know where we are at any given time, but not what the rate of change will be, which appealed to my mathematical side! Of course, we didn’t know where we were exactly, since we hadn’t gone for any internals…
It seemed like things continued smoothly and progressively for quite some time, with the surges getting stronger and closer together, quite a few of them back to back. I had a bit of yoghurt around lunchtime, and threw it up soon after. Another encouraging sign, I felt. And good practise for letting go and not feeling embarrassed! After about 10 hours of things feeling pretty much the same – just progressively more intense - it seemed to change – the surges felt less “lifting”, and more like downward pressure. I think I should probably have started the birth breathing a bit earlier than I did, and made that in-breath sharper, because the long slow in-breath became more painful, and harder to sustain. I had to concentrate in between times as well as just during the surges; otherwise I couldn’t quite maintain that state. I remember the music being incredibly helpful, and Adam’s quiet reassuring presence being pretty much essential. On the odd occasions where he left the room, I felt very uneasy. Liz suggested that if I were happy to do so, a quick internal might be a good idea, just to see where we were at. Although she could feel the contractions clearly, and they seemed very efficient, there was the distinct possibility that I might not actually be in active labour. I was pretty sure that he was making his way down, and that we were getting quite close, but I also wanted to know where we were at. So Adam escorted me to the loo, which made everything get more intense and was probably the closest I got to losing it and he had to be quite firm with his “breathe!” commands! Then Liz did a quick check. At this point, the surges were back to back, so finding an appropriate moment wasn’t that easy. I did have that thought of “what if I haven’t dilated at all? How long could I continue this for?” and for a fleeting moment thought I would ring up the hospital and get them to arrange the anaesthetist for the epidural, but by the time we did the internal I had got my thinking back on track to stay at home even if we were a ways off. In any case, I was thrilled when Liz said that not only was I fully dilated, but that he was well on his way down. In fact, she invited me to check, and I could feel that there wasn’t far for his head to come. I slid gratefully back into the pool for the next stage.
From now on, I only felt uncomfortable at the start of every surge, when I would feel a slightly panicky “Oh God, here we go again” feeling, but after the initial few seconds, I would feel fine. I focussed almost entirely on letting go. Opening. That old affirmation “as my labour advances, I go deeper within to my birthing body” kept surfacing. And surprised me a bit, as I hadn’t expected really to do so, I thought I would be a bit more active at this stage. I opened my bowels several times, and was pleased both that it didn’t mortify me, and also that I was able to let go so easily. I could feel that I wasn’t getting in my own way, that having strong pelvic floor muscles wasn’t working against the smooth descent of my baby.
I felt that I pushed him out rather than breathed, but the midwives later assured me that what I had done didn’t fit their definition of pushing… But I could feel my body expelling him, just like retching, but in the other direction, and I went with it and helped it along a bit. I was particularly keen to join in with my body because I experienced no discomfort at all when I was engaged this way. I moved onto all fours, and then, as suggested, brought one leg forward –which happened to be a yoga move I was pleased to have practised. I could feel how effective it was in helping him down, and brought the other leg forward too. I could feel he was on his way out. Liz suggested I reach down and feel, and there was this strange fleshy part of his head, not at all what I would have expected. For a moment, I thought he was behind some part of me, but when I thought about it, I couldn’t think of any anatomical part of me that would be in his way like that. He did that thing of appearing and then disappearing a bit, but every time he was getting closer. Then everyone was panting for me and getting me to wait, but I was a little impatient, and with the next expulsive wave went with it, thinking “no, it’s fine, he’s nearly here”. A burning tearing sensation made me realise that waiting would have been a better option! But a moment later, his head appeared, looking waxy and whitish under the water. Everyone assisted me into a lying back position, while I waited for the next expulsive wave. It seemed like quite a long time, I guess it just seemed odd for him to be half in and half out like that, and much as I knew the placenta was keeping him oxygenated, it still felt odd. Liz said “ok, with the next one it’s really important that you work with it to help him out”, so I really bore down and he shot out across the pool. I don’t know who picked him up and brought him to my arms, only that suddenly he was there. He cried lustily and I knew he was alright.
We couldn’t stay in the pool for long for fear of chilling him, so I was helped out fairly much straight away, and before I even sat down and curled up in the nest of duvets, the placenta came out. Adam, our son, and I curled up in the duvets, and were all immediately warm and comfortable. Once it stopped beating, Adam cut the cord, and we could snuggle more easily. I didn’t inspect the placenta, but was pleased to hear it was very healthy. All that breathing must have helped keep it well supplied with oxygen!
About half an hour after he was born, Marley latched on, and fed well. I had one of those amazingly delicious and restorative cups of tea. We went into the house and I showered, then we had toast and more tea and snuggled into bed. Mum, Maggie and the boys arrived back from town, bearing flowers and gifts. A couple of hours later I had dinner with the family, Shepherd’s Pie (veggie, of course), with Marley in my arms, a small glass of champagne to celebrate, learning how to eat one handed!
