History Repeats.

It all begins at 2.26am the morning of 6th September 2009. My first contraction (that I was aware of) woke me up then and, about an hour after that, pockets of my waters started to trickle out. We phoned the emergency triage number after an hour or so to see what to do & they sent 2 midwives out. My contractions were every 2 minutes & lasted approximately 30 seconds. The first midwife arrived at 4am & the other about 45 minutes later as she had to travel from further away.

Typically, as soon as they arrived my contractions stopped. They were both totally flummoxed that I hadn't been induced and said they'd be much happier if I went to the hospital for a CTG (belt monitoring of baby & uterine activity) later that day as anything over term + 12 is outside of ordinary midwifery apparently - bear in mind at this point I was term + 13! We agreed to this & they left. As soon as they'd gone my contractions started again with much the same timing as before. I was pretty tired by about 6am so went back to bed & the contractions petered out until about 10am when I got up again & got ready to go to the hospital for the CTG which was scheduled for 11.30am. My contractions had started again with the same timing & strength as before & didn't let up this time.

Getting to the hospital was an experience - contracting in the back of a car isn't great. We got to the hospital & realised we'd left my maternity notes at home - D'OH!!! Simon nipped back to get them & I carried on eating my breakfast that we'd brought with us in the bowl (standing up outside - how oppressive is the waiting room on the labour ward??). Simon came back & we went into one of the consultant lead care rooms. I have to say that the midwife support worker that "checked us in" was bloody awful. No people skills at all. The midwife, however, was lovely & couldn't really understand why the other midwives had wanted me to come in!! Anyhoo...1/2 hour on the monitor & everything was fine.

By now I was pretty tired & still having contractions which were getting stronger now. The midwife examined me and found that I was 3 centimetres dilated which was kinda disappointing as I'd been up so long! I thought about what Rebecca (our NCT teacher) told us about labour -  it's like a trip to London on the M1; some days you get there in record time, other times you stop & start all the way & you can even give up, turn around & come back.

We made the decision to stay at hospital as the pool room was free. The awful midwife support worker came to take us down to midwife lead care. She opened the door and said "ready then" as I was obviously in the middle of a contraction. Did I look fecking ready?? Off we went thinking everything would progress &  the Wiggler would be with us soon. How wrong can you be? Got into the midwife lead care room & contractions stopped. I got really, really REALLY upset & wanted to go home. About 3 hours later the midwife suggested a hot bath to see if we could speed things up which I did and was in it (which is called Diana, by the way) for about an hour. When I got out I was only 4 cm!! Crushing. By now I was exhausted and really tearful. Mum had gone home to let the dog out and it was just me & Simon. We talked with the midwife & the doctor who explained that it was what they call an obstructed labour. With great sadness we decided to move back to consultant lead care & go on a drip  of synthetic hormones to get things going.

Back in consultant lead care I'm crying pretty hysterically, or as hysterically as someone who has had 4 hours sleep & been awake  for about 17 hours can cry. We had the loveliest midwife called Steph. I'm eternally grateful to her for being so nice. She put me on a belt monitor. When asked what my thoughts on pain relief were I found the words "I'm not sure I can cope with the pain if I go on the drip so I'd like an epidural" coming out of my mouth. She said it's what they'd recommend as I was so tired. I ended up being on the monitor for a good 2 or 3 hours again when she came in asked if she could put a clip on the Wiggler's head as she was concerned about his heart rate dropping during contractions. Again, grateful for NCT class attendance as we knew what it was for and why it was a good idea. So she did that, all the time still waiting for someone to come & put a cannula in my hand before the epidural could be administered. She suggested that I start using some entonox as the contractions were getting quite strong now. I'd like to say that it's bloody marvellous stuff, although it does loosen your tongue and make you feel drunk :-D

Wiggler didn't like that at all. His heart rate dropped dramatically & Steph came rushing in, told me to get onto my side & then told Simon to pull the red cord behind the bed. The next thing I know is the room is full of people in scrubs all talking medi-speak deciding if I should be prepped for  caesarean. Wiggler's heart rate calmed down, or rather sped up so they backed off a bit, but decided to get a blood sample from his head. Joy. Off came the bottom of the bed & out came the stirrups. Steph tells me to keep sucking on the entonox like there's no tomorrow which I do,  thank goodness for that stuff. I still hadn't had the epidural, or got the cannula. The light wasn't working & I wasn't very dilated so the doctor couldn't get said sample :-(It was like having the mother of all smears, or a lifetime's worth of smears in one go.

It was then the decision was made to deliver him by emergency caesarean section. Finally the cannula went in to the side of my wrist (after some sort of conversation with the anaesthetist about the weedy veins on the back of my hand) & a blood sample taken for whatever reason. I'm still on my side breathing constant entonox. Not really sure what happened, but everybody left & I was told I'd have a spinal instead of the epidural. We waited about 10 minutes for them to take me to theatre. Steph came to get me & allowed me a few massive gulps on the entonox before we left. Once in the operating theatre it took what seemed like forever to get the spinal done & I was still contracting quite heavily. Simon says the noises I was making were awful. Sitting up for the spinal was grim, but mercifully it kicked in quickly. After that the screen went up & the top half of my body was shivering like a thing possessed! I felt OK though, tired, but OK. Simon came in in scrubs (I remember thinking he looked really good in them!) and sat next to my head. Then the pulling about started & the next thing I know I hear a cry. I thought "Oh, there's a baby in here" and then it dawned on me that it was our baby :-) Having waited the duration of my pregnancy for him to be born it was very strange to know that I was going to see him for the first time very soon. Steph took him to do whatever it is they do with newborn babies and then brought him over to Simon. We'd agreed about 1/2 an hour before it all kicked off that we liked Isaac as a boys name, which is good because we'd been undecided until that point.

I was stapled up and wheeled into recovery where Steph put him onto my chest for some skin to skin and to start breastfeeding. It was difficult to hold him so that he could feed properly because I had the cannula with a drip on the side of my wrist & something else on my forefinger measuring something else, plus I couldn't sit upright because of the operation, but we managed a little. We were in there for about an hour and then 2 porters came to wheel me up to the maternity ward.

Nothing had really sunk in and everything was surreal to say the least. Mum & Simon stayed until about 2 and then the midwives asked them to say their goodbyes. I was so wired that I hardly slept all night; I was too busy looking at my beautiful little boy. Plus I was  too awash with hormones and drugs to care!

And so that is how, at 11.42pm, weighing 8lbs exactly, Isaac Andrew came into the world; the same ugly route as his mother. It's not as I'd have liked, but he's alive and healthy - for what more could I ask?

He sleeps next to me in his pram as I type these words. It's taken about 3 days with 5 or 10 minutes snatched here and there between feeds and sleeps. I'm eternally grateful to the powers that be that he's here. I'm gutted that my body seemed to fail so hideously in its performance of such a natural and instinctive task, but it all seems an awfully long time ago now as Simon and I look to the future with our son.

On being "overdue" and consultant appointments

I'm thoroughly unimpressed and more than a little angry.

Simon & I have just been to the hospital for a consultant appointment. From what the midwife said I understood that the appointment was to arrange a monitoring plan for if I go more than 12 days over the scan due date. To a certain extent it was, but it was more a scaremongering and arrogance offensive. Her face was incredulous and disdainful the whole time that I was giving reasons why I didn't want to be induced. When I asked her why only 4% of babies were born on their scan due date and queried the research stating that a first time mother's gestation period is usually longer than 40 weeks she, very thoughtfully, explained to me that the baby was ready to come, but wouldn't because it was because my body that wasn't primed for birth as I hadn't done it before. This is why I need to be induced, because nature has it wrong.

WHAT??

How the hell has the human race coped so far if first time mothers bodies aren't primed for birth? How did people ever give birth before the advent of modern medicine? I CANNOT BELIEVE THE AUDACITY!!

Her use of language was appalling, in that at no point did she say I had a choice in the matter; I had to make her aware that I knew this and only then did she begrudgingly agree with me. Turns out she wasn't even a consultant, but a registrar!! I pointed out that if I was induced I wouldn't be able to give birth at home, which is what I want. To this she replied, "well if we induce you you'll have to be in hospital for us to deliver you anyway".

WHO'S DELIVERING THE BABY???

Unless it's a c-section then I assume it'll be me delivering, thanks very much.

How cared for and reassured I felt by this woman.

The funny thing is that if I'd agreed to have the induction date booked for 5th September and not gone, they couldn't have done a thing about it & I wouldn't be going through all this crap right now. I sort of wish I hadn't agreed to the monitoring because I can feel myself getting more stressed out about it which is exactly what I wanted to avoid by having a home birth and isn't going to help natural labour in the slightest. At least I don't have to go back to hospital until 4th September now.

Why are medicals so ignorant and disrespectful of people's choices?

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!

She also swept my membranes...that was pleasant.

On a more positive note, I dearly love the site homebirth.org.uk. It is a wonderful reminder that people give birth at home every day and that many of them are more than 42 weeks pregnant when they do so. The page about being "overdue" is inspiring and makes me feel better about this morning's debacle.

Sanity project dies a death

I woke up this morning at 4.13am. As I couldn't get back to sleep I decided to get up and carry on with my crochet project of the past week (the Froufrou cardigan from Debbie Stoller’s The Happy Hooker).

This is the company I had.

Out for the count, with snores

Clearly Rinny can't hack lack of sleep. I wonder how having a newborn will affect her? Hmm...

I called it my sanity project because it has literally been savings my sanity since I ran out of things to do at home while on maternity leave and I'm apparently not a nester (not yet anyway - I did wake up today with maniacally obsessed thoughts of hoovering, dusting and baking, but as the day progressed I just couldn't be ARSED!!! Saying that I made cookies this evening :-)) I've unpicked bits of it a few times because my pregnant eyes have misread the pattern/stitch instructions, but all was going well and nearly finished with only a modicum of sleeve concern. Today I sewed the seams together. I put it on to realise that a) the sleeves are waaaaaaaaaaaay to long and wide (as I'd suspected), b) I'd misread the pattern early on and made the back 21 rows too long so that c) the front pieces and back pieces were different lengths and what should be a fairly flattering wrap over cardi looked more like a dressing gown created by Mrs Weasley. Needless to say there isn't any photographic evidence of my monumental blunder apart from this:

Cardi is no more

I'm now debating whether to make it again using different measurements to or use the yarn for something else. I suspect I'll make it again, but not for a while. I'm somewhat deflated and feeling the need for more hats in different colours!

On a completely different note, I read somewhere that raspberry leaf tea can be frozen as ice cubes to suck during labour which struck me as a brilliant idea, but thought they might get a little cold and mouth hurty, so I made lollies using my new ice lolly moulds instead! They are nicely frozen and ready for labour. They even have drip catchers with straws on the bottom :-)

The Wiggler has definitely Wiggled™ its way further down; I feel a little like I've got a small honeydew melon (forgive the fruit metaphor, but it fits the bill weight/size wise) in my pelvis. Brains are heavy I suppose. It's further down than yesterday and more forward, any further &  it'll be falling out! I guess that's the idea (!)

Nothing else to report!

Pre-birth ponderings

Before I went on maternity leave I asked a work colleague why she thought labour was called labour to which she replied "because it's very hard work". I like this description and think that her words were chosen well. She could've said "because it's painful" or something else to describe the physical sensations, but she chose to articulate the effort involved instead which I applaud. In her article "The Language of Birth", Alyssa Colton talks about the words used to describe the sensations of labour and childbirth. This sentence in her opening paragraph encapsulates well what I feel before the Wiggler arrives - "Though on some level I was scared, I think I was more scared by all the medical horrors that could happen. As I did more research, I understood that many medical complications are brought about by the practice of medicine itself." I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little anxious about the whole "pushing a human out" to quote Mr Jones, but I know  that in having the Wiggler at home I've made the right decision for me to be most mentally comfortable during the process. Which leads me onto...

In my last post I said I felt the hospital labour ward made me feel uncomfortable and I've been wondering why. Thousands of women given birth at the hospital each year so it can't be that bad, right?  Wrong! I happened upon this article by Michel Odent. While quite lengthy in its entirety, the following is what I found most interesting (please excuse the American spellings, I only cut & paste!):

"The human handicaps [surrounding birth] are related to the huge development of that part of the brain called the neocortex. It is thanks to our highly developed neocortex that we can talk, count and be logical and rational. Our neocortex is originally a tool that serves the old brain structures as a means of supporting our survival instinct. The point is that its activity tends to control more primitive brain structures and to inhibit the birth process (and any sort of sexual experience as well).

Nature found a solution to overcome the human handicap in the period surrounding birth. The neocortex is supposed to be at rest so that primitive brain structures can more easily release the necessary hormones. That is why women who give birth tend to cut themselves off from our world, to forget what they read or what they have been taught; they dare to do what civilized women would never dare to do in their daily social life (daring to scream, to swear, to be impolite etc.); they can find themselves in the most unexpected, often primitive quadrupedal posture; I heard women saying afterwards: ‘I was on another planet’. When a labouring woman is ‘on another planet’, this means that the activity of her neocortex is reduced. This reduction of the activity of the neocortex is an essential aspect of birth physiology among humans.

This aspect of human birth physiology implies that one of the basic needs of labouring women is to be protected against any sort of neocortical stimulation. From a practical point of view it is useful to explain what this means and to review the well-known factors that can stimulate the human neocortex.

Language, particularly rational language is one such factor. When we communicate with language we process what we perceive with our neocortex. This implies, for example, that if there is a birth attendant, one of her main qualities is her capacity to keep a low profile and to remain silent, to avoid in particular asking precise questions. Imagine a woman in hard labour, and already "on another planet". She dares to scream out; she dares to do things she would never do otherwise; she has forgotten about what she has been taught or read in books; she has lost her sense of time and then she finds herself in the unexpected position of having to respond to someone who wants to know at what time she had her first contractions! Although it is apparently simple, it will probably take a long time to rediscover that a birth attendant must remain as silent as possible.

Bright light is another factor that stimulates the human neocortex. Electroencephalographers know that the trace exploring brain activity can be influenced by visual stimulation. We usually close the curtains and switch off the lights when we want to reduce the activity of our intellect in order to go to sleep. This implies that, from a physiological perspective, a dim light should in general facilitate the birth process. It will also take a long time to convince many health professionals that this is a serious issue. It is noticeable that as soon as a labouring woman is on ‘another planet’ she is spontaneously driven towards postures that tend to protect her against all sorts of visual stimulation. For example she may be on all fours, as if praying. Apart from reducing the back pain, this common posture has many positive effects, such as eliminating the main reason for fetal distress (no compression of the big vessels that run along the spine) and facilitating the rotation of the baby’s body.

A feeling of being observed can also be presented as another type of neocortical stimulation. The physiological response to the presence of an observer has been scientifically studied. In fact, it is common knowledge that we all feel different when we know we are being observed. In other words, privacy is a factor that facilitates the reduction of neocortical control. It is ironic that all non-human mammals, whose neocortex is not as developed as ours, have a strategy for giving birth in privacy - those who are normally active during night, like rats, tend to give birth during the day, and conversely others like horses who are active during the day tend to give birth at night. Wild goats give birth in the most inaccessible mountain areas. Our close relatives the chimpanzees also move away from the group. The importance of privacy implies, for example, that there is a difference between the attitude of a midwife staying in front of a woman in labour and watching her, and another one just sitting in a corner. It implies also that we should be reluctant to introduce any device that can be perceived as a way to observe, may it be a video camera or an electronic fetal monitor."

WOW! How amazing is that?

The final paragraph that talks about the feeling of being observed hits on the head exactly what I've been feeling about hospital birth, and birth in general if I'm honest. The thought of strangers watching me sends shivers down my spine and makes me feel somewhat queasy. To think that all this time I thought I was a little weird for wanting to be alone when I gave birth. Turns out the doctors are the weird ones for wanting to frighten the bejesus out of women in the name of medical paranoia. I know monitoring serves its purpose and millions of babies are alive today thanks to medical intervention, but for non-complicated pregnancies...? Simon even said that if he was a woman, he wouldn't want to give birth in a hospital!

So anyway, I now have a few more pointers for my (incredibly loosely drawn up) birth plan :-)

For those of you who are still with me, check this out! It makes perfect sense that if the same parts of the body used for sex to stimulate orgasm are used for the delivery of a child, why can't childbirth be orgasmic? Maybe it's the medicalisation of a non-medical situation that holds so many back?  Pregnancy has been around much longer than doctors! I'm hoping that because I'll be at home in familiar surroundings, with minimal neocortical stimulation (!) I might enjoy the Wiggler's arrival. Here's hoping!

Labour ward tour

As the title suggests, we went on a tour of the labour ward.

Quite simply, it has confirmed with concrete certainty in my mind why I want to have the Wiggler at home. I understand that hospitals are a necessary evil, but childbirth is one of the most natural things in the world and, to me, the hospital is one of the most unnatural places in the world (when you stop to consider some of the things that happen in them).  The midwife lead rooms were OK, all 4 of them (!). By OK I mean quite big, had a birthing ball & a birthing mattress (about which a highly *informed* father-to-be commented "I'm not being funny, but what's with the big spongy thing?" Ugh.) The consultant rooms were really poky and the amount of equipment present in each room was baffling! There were several waiting rooms, very few of which had windows. It seems the fact that all rooms have televisions is a plus point and was highlighted as a benefit? I suppose it is to a certain extent, but good grief - really? There weren't any pictures on the walls and it was so sterile. I know it's a hospital and it has to be, but the children's ward is bright & colourful - do labouring women not need nice surroundings? Oh, hang on, I guess that's where the TV comes in right?

I'm sure the midwives are all lovely & do everything to make your labour/birth go as smoothly as possible and you can take your own things in to make it more your own, but I honestly felt uncomfortable walking around the ward; not a place I'd like to bring the Wiggler into the world. I'm probably only seeing the negative side of things and quite possibly being difficult because I don't like doing things that many people do in the usual way.

I know you aren't in control of your labour and it all just happens, but I don't think I'd feel like I had any control in the hospital with bleeping machinery and unfamiliar people watching me from a different room ready to rush in with more machines at the drop of a hat. I'm sure others find this reassuring, but I have faith in my body and ability to deliver my baby. Thousands of women have done it over the years in much more challenging conditions and I find it quite insulting that the medical profession seems to have lost sight of this. Maybe I'm just anti-institutionalist? I know there will be two strangers in my house (i.e.: the midwives), but they'll be in my house - it's my baby after all!

Saying all that, I may have to eat my words and go into hospital. Here's hoping not and also hoping I don't have to be induced! I really don't want that. Really, really I don't.

 

Pre-booking session

We went to our pre-booking session today. Essentially it was a group session where a midwife support worker runs through the basics (no yummy cheese (i.e.: brie, stilton etc), no pate because of the mould (there's mould in pate?? I'm so glad I'm vegetarian!!) and the like. She also gives us a feck load of forms to fill in so the midwife doesn't have to do it in the booking session. It was quite a lot to take in, but...I am a geek and have read up a lot already so most of it was old news. I bought Your Pregnancy Week By Week by Lesley Regan. It's really helpful and totally non-patronising, unlike some of the other books I've browsed in Waterstones (such delights as "let's face it, there's nothing much you can do while you're pregnant so you may as well eat!" er...no). I thought it was all rather marvellous until I read the section on pain during labour and felt pure panic wash over me right down to my toes. All I can say is, man it's gonna hurt like hell. As much as I'd like to feel nothing I don't think I would want an epidural. How much of an experience can that be - being told when to push because you don't know? I'm sure there will be a load more bumph thrown at me by midwives etc about my options for pain relief, different types of birth etc. Bring on the raspberry leaf tea!

Talking of bumph, there wasn't half a lot of adverts in one of the packs she gave us today. One thing I found really grim was a little card saying "the first time you saw me" with a space designed for the first scan image which is very twee and quite a lovely idea if it didn't have Pampers plastered all over it. Even Mastercard are at it! There's much encouragement to join "the best Pregnancy, Baby and Parenting Club - Bounty" which, as far as I can tell, means you get a load of free samples of baby products full of horrible chemicals, most of which I have no intention of using! Like...Pampers. Uh...LANDFILLS ANYONE?? So anyway, I might give that a miss and speak to people I meet along the way.

The next appointment, by which time we must have done our homework, bring on the forms, is 20th January. Hopefully Simon's work aren't stingy about giving him the time off. Hmph. Stupid work.