The Bobsy is 18 months old, so her birth story isn’t quite as late as The Boy’s was. Nor is it as dramatic. It was almost perfect in the end.
The Bobsy was sort of planned. Yet not quite. I had had a coil fitted but it fell out in December. We decided that we’d probably like to try for a baby at some point soon so I would just go on the pill. Then, the pill turned me into an absolutely crazy person. I was hormonal, upset and generally pretty unhappy (not to mention fat!). It didn’t agree with me at all.
We got engaged in January and booked the wedding for October. But, no one wants to marry a hormonal nutcase and I certainly wasn’t enjoying being one so I came off the pill. We talked about it and the decision we reached was that I was very unlikely to get pregnant straight away and if I was a few weeks pregnant at the wedding it would be fine.
I got pregnant that week. Perhaps even night! Obviously! Our scan revealed that I was due on November 13th. Hunky Husbands birthday. Our wedding was booked for October 26th. The Boy was nearly 3 weeks early. Panic!
We decided to do it anyway. We didn’t want a big wedding so went ahead and had the most wonderful day.
The rest of the pregnancy was great. I had morning sickness again, some indigestion and really struggled to stand for long as I had awful varicose veins left over from the first time. But, it was good. I enjoy being pregnant.
The week I was due I had a lot of Braxton Hicks. Every day, husband went to work and I worried I was going to go into labour alone. One day he was that worried about me Husband secretly rang his mum to come and keep me company.
On the 12th I had a bath and watched a film on Netflix. Got out and lay down on the sofa. I’d been having Braxton Hicks all day but nothing major.
My waters broke while I was watching Emmerdale on the sofa. I went to the toilet to make sure. At this point, I was pretty scared. I didn’t want to be induced again.
I rang the hospital and husband. Both of whom asked if I was sure it wasn’t wee. Having been in this situation before I was quite calm. The hospital told me they were very busy and asked me to wait an hour before going in. But that was fine, I wasn’t expecting anything to happen.
I started packing some stuff. Contractions started. Quite mild to begin with, but every 5 minutes. Husband got home, we made sandwiches and finished Emmerdale. Contractions were becoming closer together so we decided to get going.
There was a huge storm that night and we were sat in traffic for ages. I had an app (things had got high tech since my first birth!) to time contractions. They were getting close. It was starting to become unbearable. A little part of me worried we wouldn’t make it, but I knew that wasn’t likely.
At the Hospital
When we finally found a parking spot near the hospital it was raining like crazy so I wanted to time it just right. We sat in the car until I’d finished a contraction, then attempted to peg it into the hospital before another. Failed!
We went to the same triage room as when I’d had The Boy nearly five years before but weirdly I remembered nothing. I hadn’t got a clue how to get there or where I was meant to be. It was totally different to the first time. The little room was packed.
Most women were sat chatting quite comfortably with their friends or partners but a few of us were clearly in active labour. To start with I sat down and moaned a little bit but after a while waiting I couldn’t stand it anymore. I got up and started walking up and down the corridor, leaning on husband during the contractions. There were still women in front of us. I was going to give birth in the bloody triage room.
Getting a Room
We were finally seen at 9 pm having been struggling in triage for an hour. I was examined. Again, I was expecting a good 9cm. 4!! My first thought was “oh god they’re going to send me home” but, the midwife said that because my contractions were so close she didn’t think there was any point and they’d find me a room as soon as possible. She apologised for the wait but explained that it’s often busy in storms. Apparently, the air pressure can start things off. I’m totally not sure if that’s true or just something she said to make me feel better, but hey, Bobsy Stormborn?!
We got taken to our own room shorty after and I finally took my jeans off. I remember being so happy to take my jeans off. I didn’t bother putting my PJ bottoms on but did change into a vest and baggy t-shirt.
It was around 9:30 and I had a good hour bouncing on the ball, quite happy with how things were going. I remember needing a wee all the time and being scared I wouldn’t be able to get back up!
I find there are many bits in labour where you think “God this must be it. It can’t possibly get any worse” and then it gets worse. For me, this is marked by how much I move. In the beginning, I was happy to sit through contractions. Then I had to get up and walk around. Then I found the ball. Finally, when I crossed the next pain threshold, I lay down on the bed and couldn’t get back up.
I hit the gas and air at around 10:30 and tried to get comfy in the bed. I kept asking husband to talk to me to distract me but bless him he had no idea what to say.
At 11 pm the midwife returned. We hadn’t seen her since we got settled in our room and I’d quite liked being on our own. With The Boy, I had people there the whole time because of my induction so this birth felt very different.
She asked me how I wanted it to go. I said I didn’t want an epidural because it hadn’t gone well the first time. But apart from that, I didn’t mind.
At midnight, I started to feel that weird bum pressure. It wasn’t too bad, but definitely there. I hadn’t been examined since 9 pm and 4cm but the midwife was happy and told me to do what felt right. I didn’t want to push yet, but I could feel things starting to move down. At this point, I asked for an injection. It sent me very funny!
During contractions, I was in agony still, trying not to push yet, it didn’t feel right. But the pressure was becoming unbearable. However, I must say I loved the “you do what feels right” approach. As soon as the contraction finished, I was absolutely off my face. Slurring, having a 10-second nap, totally gone with the fairies. It was great!
I was examined at 2 am when I said “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I feel like I’ve started to push. But I don’t know if I should” she told me I was 10cm and I’d done everything perfectly. I hadn’t got a bloody clue what I’d done but was relieved all the same. I’d been squatting till now, but turned to lie down for the hard work.
So, the real pushing started. It was fine to start. After 90minutes, however, it got hard. I found I could push to a certain level, then they’d say “just a little harder Donna” and I’d throw up everywhere. Just that little bit more mixed with my drugs and my stomach couldn’t cope. I was sick with every single push. I couldn’t do it.
At this point, I started to panic because of what had happened the first time. They warned me that after 2 hours they would start to think about giving me some extra help. I remember a more senior midwife check. I overheard her say “have you spoke to mum about an episiotomy” and I shouted “it’s fine. Just do it if you need to” so they did.
Then Husband fainted.
No, really. Well not quite. But he went very pale so the midwife made him lie on the floor. I remember after a few pushes now I could see her head. I looked over to husband on the floor and said “I can see her. She’s got loads of hair” and he said, “I can see too”.
Once I’d seen her, the next few pushes were easy. I needed my Bobsy. She popped right out. She was given straight to me and literally clamped on for a feed within seconds. Couldn’t have been easier. They stitched me up, brought us both some tea and toast and left us in the room for a few hours. I fed Robyn and showered. We even had lunch in there I think. We weren’t rushed up to a ward at all.
I had wanted to go home straight away but her temperature was a little low, so they kept us in for a day so she could be in a heated cot. But, she was fine. Fed well, sleep loads. A totally different birth, and first day to Michael.