labour | A Mummy Too

Labour, pain relief and a whole lot of guilt

9 January, 2012 By Emily Leary 22 Comments

Will it hurt, mummy? – JD, 3

One Born Every Minute returned to Channel 4 last week and I shared my thoughts about dads in the delivery room. The next episode – due to screen on Wednesday 11th January at 9pm – is all about pain, so here’s my story of pain, relief and guilt.

Growing up with three siblings – two older, one younger – I was quite comfortable with the idea that my mum had been pregnant and given birth, and she was quite comfortable talking about it, so from a young age I knew that it was painful, but I also knew that she did it with just gas and air every time.

What this meant is that I grew up fully expecting that when the time came to have babies, I wouldn’t need pain relief, and that asking for it would make me something of a failure – not that mum ever conveyed that message, I’ve just always tried to live up to what I think is a very high standard set by her: a strong, kind, single mum who gave us everything – still gives us everything – and asks for nothing in return.

So came the day in late 2007 when I went into labour for the first time. I woke up to find that my waters were breaking slowly and contractions were about 20 minutes apart and not painful so much as uncomfortable. “This will be ok,” I thought. How naive!

Now I don’t really want to get into the detail of what happened over the next 24 hours as I don’t want to frighten first-timers. I’ll just say that due to a combination of bad planning and bad luck, I ended up nowhere near the hospital I’d been to throughout the pregnancy and instead at a horrible hospital which – I kid you not – was suffering from a bluebottle infestation and had spatterings of who-knows-what over almost every wall. And yes, this was a UK hospital.

Anyway, after many hours on a public ward – alone as it was after visiting hours – I just couldn’t cope anymore. I’d only dilated 3cm and I was exhausted. Vomiting, bleeding and frightened, I hadn’t been given any gas and air and was finally given pethidine. I lay there, cursing myself for my failings and begging the midwives to check me again. The next time they did, JD was almost in the world and I was moved into a delivery room with minutes to spare.

Years later, I still felt guilty for ‘giving in’ to pethidine, so when I fell pregnant with Little Miss J, I wrote on my birth plan that I wanted to do it without any painkillers.

Little Miss J’s birth story was entirely different: a happy, comparatively calm affair, quicker from start to finish and much less distressing. So why then, did I end up having pethidine again? Well in the heat of those contractions, when I learned I was only 3cm dilated and things seemed to be following the same pattern as last time, it finally dawned on me that a) I’d forgotten how much it hurts and b) having pain relief isn’t a crime!

So I took the gas and air and I welcomed the pethidine. I know that it’s supposed to slow labour, but for me it seemed to speed up dilation hugely. I don’t know why – maybe when I’m in that much pain, I fight it somehow. Who knows.

So my message to mums who desperately want a natural, drug-free birth: good on you, fantastic, well done. But if when the time comes, you’re struggling and want pain relief, don’t feel guilty, don’t feel that you’ve failed. You’re doing something incredible and if you need help, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.

Episodes on One Born Every Minute can be watched online at www.channel4.com/oneborn. Read more posts about labour and pain management over on Netmums.

Filed Under: Parenting Tagged With: delivery, guilt, labour, One Born Every Minute, pain, pain relief, pregnancy

Let’s hear it for dads in the labour room

2 January, 2012 By Emily Leary 12 Comments

You’re doing amazingly. Everything is going to be ok – Mark

One Born Every Minute returns to Channel 4 on 4th January at 9pm with an episode all about dads.

Recently, I published Little Miss J’s birth story, so first, an abridged recap of just how amazing Mark was that night/morning:

I coped with contractions for that hour by walking away from and back to Mark. I’d pace away from him as a contraction subsided and when I made it to the wall, pace back and collapse into his arms as the pain kicked in full strength. I put my whole weight over his outstretched arm at the peak of each contraction – good job he’s strong! [...]

All I was aware of was Mark’s hand, the rail of the bed I was gripping it against, and the sound of his voice, telling me that I was “doing amazingly” and that, “everything is going to be ok”. I’m so grateful to him for that. [...]

She was delivered onto my stomach at 8.22am and Mark cut the cord. “It’s a girl, right?” I asked. Mark nodded happily.

Mark and I have barely slept since that night, but I thank him almost daily for all he did. He was my strength. So here’s my (non-expert) advice to any expectant dads feeling nervous about their role when the time comes:

I know you’re scared, and you’re right to be. If you’re going for a natural birth, your partner is probably about to experience the worst pain of her life and if you’re having a cesarean, then a pretty serious operation is yet to come.

You can’t take the pain away. You can’t help medically. But you can be the support she needs. You might feel useless. It might seem, from the outside, like there’s nothing you can do, but on the night, just being there will help.

Talk to your partner, discuss what you both want to happen. Understand her fears, share your own, and learn what sort of support she wants, knowing all the time that it could change on the big day.

I’d told Mark that I wanted him to hold me, but in the end I didn’t want to be held at all. I didn’t want to feel restricted from moving, so instead I clung to him, leaned on him, even pushed against him while he stood fast, supported me, stayed calm and promised me that everything would be ok.

I don’t believe you can plan a labour. What’s decided rationally is so different from how you’ll both feel in the moment. Mark listened. He cared. And that’s what got me through. You can make a difference.

One Born Every Minute is on Channel 4 on Wednesdays at 9pm, starting 4^th January.

Episodes can be watched online at www.channel4.com/oneborn. Read more posts about dads and labour over on Netmums.

Filed Under: Parenting Tagged With: birth, dads, labour, One Born Every Minute

Little Miss J’s birth story

7 December, 2011 By Emily Leary 17 Comments

Is the baby going to pop out? – JD, 4

After sulking my way through the final weeks of pregnancy, things finally started four days before my due date.

I’d had contractions since 7pm that evening, but with some false alarms punctuating the preceding days, I didn’t believe I was in labour. By midnight, the contractions had stopped and we went to bed frustrated and disappointed.

It’s really happening!

I woke up at 3am with a stronger contraction and as I got up to go to the loo, my waters broke. It was really happening!

I squeaked and shook Mark awake – I was shaking with a mixture of nerves and excitement. Mark and I stood giggling in our bedroom, gathering together the last few bits for my hospital bag and trying not to wake JD who was snoring quietly in the next room.

Mark wanted to call a taxi straight away but the contractions, although only four minutes apart, weren’t yet agonising so I was determined that we wouldn’t do anything until mum was here and I’d given JD a goodbye cuddle. I didn’t want to be rushed. A little bit of fear was setting in and I wanted to give my beautiful boy a hug.

I called my mum – she’d be round in five minutes. I whizzed about getting washed and changed. Mum arrived and we called the taxi. It was supposed to arrive in 15 minutes – about 3.40am.

I crept into JD’s room and gently stroked his hair. He woke up and smiled at me. I kissed him and explained softly that his grandma was here and I was going to hospital with Mark to have the baby. He smiled brightly, asked a few very sensible (and hard to answer) questions about what would happen. I gave him a hug (as best I could over my huge bump) and promised I’d see him in the morning.

Standing on street corners

So there Mark and I stood, on the street outside our house at 3.40am, listening to the village silence and whispering like wayward teenagers. I don’t think I’d been outside in the early hours since JD was born. With the cold air hitting my lungs and Mark’s arm around my shoulders, it felt more like the end of a night out than the start of labour.

4am and the taxi hadn’t arrived! By this time I was getting cold and the contractions were getting strong enough to double me over with very little break between them. I was in terrible pain and Mark was geting worried but I couldn’t stop laughing. The pain combined with nerves I guess.

Mark call the taxi firm who revealed they’d be another 15 minutes! Mark explained I was in labour and got a satisfying, “flipping heck!” reaction from the man on the other end of the line. Five minutes later, a lovely taxi driver arrived and got us to the hospital in ten minutes without speeding.

Getting lost

4.15am and we were buzzing our way into the maternity ward. We hadn’t had a look round beforehand and I hadn’t paid much attention to the signs when we’d had prenatal checks, so we got a bit lost. I’d calmed down in the taxi but waddling around the maze-like hospital, intermittently doubling over in agony, set me off on a fit of giggles again. Yes, I know, weird.

Very soon after, we found our way on to the ward and were shown to a lovely room. With JD, a tough birth story I’ll share another time, I spent all but the last few minutes of labour on a public ward. The sight of a clean bed and bathroom to myself brought on some relieved tears. The midwives were all amazing and I felt positive and ready to deal with whatever happened next.

By 5am the pain was almost impossible bear but I spoke with the midwife and agreed to stick things out until 6am, at which time she’d check how far I was dilated and we’d go from there. I wanted to go without pain meds if I could.

A test of (Mark’s) strength

I coped with contractions for that hour by walking away from and back to Mark. I’d pace away from him as a contraction subsided and when I made it to the wall, pace back and collapse into his arms as the pain kicked in full strength. I put my whole weight over his outstretched arm at the peak of each contraction – good job he’s strong!

At 6am, as the midwife returned as promised, I was vomiting – a good sign, she said. As she checked me over it was hard not to writhe in pain. I’d stayed positive until that moment, but then she broke the news that I was only 3cm dilated. I burst into tears and told Mark I couldn’t do it, I was going to need pain killers.

My midwife agreed that pethidine was the way to go, but it would take an hour to arrive, so she passed me the gas and air. I’d given up on pacing by then, and stayed on the bed, clutching Mark’s hand and breathing the gas slowly. At one stage, I breathed in too much and the room took out a loud, pulsing buzz for a few seconds – scary.

The really tough bit

During that hour, they fitted a heart monitor as they were concerned Little Miss J might be too small. The panic that news set off in my head made that hour seem like five. Mark and I told each other it would all be ok. And it was! The results were all good – she was doing fine.

At 7am, the midwife confirmed I still hadn’t dilated much and gave me the pethidine. The pain was so overwhelming by then, I didn’t really know what was going on. All I was aware of was Mark’s hand, the rail of the bed I was gripping it against, and the sound of his voice, telling me that I was “doing amazingly” and that, “everything is going to be ok”. I’m so grateful to him for that.

The pethidine kicked in quickly and I don’t have much recollection of the hour that followed, other than that the pain didn’t feel reduced, but I was calmer. While I writhed in my own little world of pain and pethidine, there was a shift change and two new midwives introduced themselves.

A sprint finish

As they discussed the plan for managing me, I suddenly felt the urge to push. I must have been quite drunk on those pain meds as apparently Mark and the midwives had to tell me six times that the baby was crowning before it registered. I thought I’d remember what it felt like, but turns out I’d forgotten. One word: OW!

According to my medical notes, this stage of labour lasted a whopping seven minutes! With JD, I’d pushed for 45 minutes. With Little Miss J, I mostly breathed through it, with only two active pushes for the head and one for the body.

She was delivered onto my stomach at 8.22am and Mark cut the cord. “It’s a girl, right?” I asked. Mark nodded happily. The sonographer at our five month scan hadn’t been able to confirm the sex, but I’d been sure from the start that we were having a girl. I could feel my cheeks turning hot with pride. I just gave birth to our daughter!

I looked down at this incredibly beautiful little bundle and felt deliriously happy. Little Miss J amazed my by starting to wriggle up my stomach, reaching out a hand in search of a feed. I took her to my breast and she fed immediately. I felt so proud as I kissed my wonderful husband and we looked down at our new, perfect daughter.

Filed Under: Parenting Tagged With: birth, birth story, labour, maternity, pethidine

Birth plan – essential or pointless?

26 September, 2011 By Emily Leary 14 Comments

Please write any birth preferences you may have – NHS Maternity Records

I’ve been persuaded to write my birth plan. I’ll be 37 weeks pregnant on Friday so I guess it’s now or never.

Why did I need persuading? Well my first labour wasn’t a pleasant experience. It wasn’t at the hospital where I’d planned to have JD and it was dirty and understaffed. Nevertheless, I took a beautiful baby boy home, so since then I’ve figured it may as well be left to chance.

Lately though, the ‘birth plan’ pages in my maternity notes have been looking at me accusingly, so I asked around on Twitter for others to share their thoughts (big thanks in particular to @zsk @doc1online and @JanMinihane).

The consensus was that the midwives won’t have time to read it and things probably won’t go entirely to plan, but it’s useful to have everything written down in one place, if only to help focus your mind on what you want, and as a reference for your panicking partner if he’s asked to make any decisions ;)

So here’s mine…

Support in labour?

I’d like my husband, Mark to be there
If something goes wrong, or I get scared, I know from last time that I’ll want my mum there too

What will I bring with me?

My hospital bag is already packed with clothes, toiletries, decaf tea bags, soya milk and a Kindle for me, plus her first outfit, blankets and some changing kit
I’m really not fussed about music, the pain will be quite enough to think about

Things I’ll do to cope / relax?

I’ve been a bit lax – no NCT classes. I just want my husband there, that will keep me calm
To be allowed to walk around a lot
Access to a bath would be good – splashing water over my stomach really helped with the contractions last time