Birth Story

There have been several defining moments in my life; but none that I have been so overwhelmed by, nor under-prepared for, than the birth of my son. Indeed, I was not really prepared for the pregnancy test to turn positive. I had never planned to be a mother, and I had no idea how I would cope. I began, as I suppose most people do, by registering with the midwife at my local health centre. At this point, I was hoping for a home delivery.

I did not have a particularly enjoyable time. As my pregnancy progressed, my nausea progressed with it, I started having some horrible shooting pains and my nerves began to fail me. NHS staff were helpful, but busy and overstretched. My consultant was concerned that I was "not sufficiently excited to be having a baby", and in view of this, my age (35), an increased risk of bleeding following the birth and the fact that it was my first baby, advised that I should deliver in hospital. With all this laid before me, and the pains becoming almost intolerable, I became convinced that I could not 'do' labour at all. I requested a Caesarean. My consultant suggested an independent midwife.

Meeting Lynn changed pregnancy from a nightmare situation to an experience which, if not pleasant, was at least tolerable. Having discussed my situation at length, she agreed to a home delivery. She supported me during some of my most frantic weeks, assuring me that I was normal. She introduced me to Sharon, another very special midwife, who would back her up at delivery. After speaking with both of them, I became convinced that I wanted a water birth, so we hired a birthing pool which took up the majority of the space in our dining room!

The last two weeks of my pregnancy were the best. The nausea had finally gone, I had hired a TENS machine which was controlling the shooting pains, and apart from my concerns about delivery and motherhood, I felt really good. I was quite pleased to go past my due date.

Following a day of 'niggling' pains on Sunday 7th April, I woke on Monday at 4.30 in the morning with what felt like a violent contraction. This one took me by surprise, and at first I panicked, but having connected the TENS machine, the following contractions were no worse than a bad period, and I was able to doze until 6.00am. Lynn had advised me to eat, so I got up, had breakfast and watched a magnificent sunrise on the day that was going to change my life. I did not feel scared any more; I knew I was coping. We had all agreed that I could change my mind at any time and be transferred to hospital, and Lynn would come with me, but in my heart I knew that my baby would be born at home. I sat looking at one of my cats curled up in the base of the empty pool, and at last I began to feel excited.

The day wore on. Lynn arrived at lunchtime, by which time my waters had broken (a vile 'popping' sensation that made me feel quite dizzy because I am a drip!), she and my husband Martyn plotted about when to fill the pool, and the contractions became stronger. Because I was at home, I felt free to behave the way I wanted, and Lynn melted into the background, leaving Martyn to support me. I was free to walk around the house and garden, and eat what I wanted (grapes). Lynn was there to answer my (many) queries and concerns, and I trusted her. I think the combination of these factors brought me through the first stage of labour, with the TENS machine providing some pain relief.

At 6pm I was in the water. I wanted the temperature kept down, and having advised me that it was cooler than recommended temperature, Lynn once again conceded to my wishes. The water helped in a different way to the TENS machine; the distraction of the little electric impulses had gone, but in its place was relaxation, and the freedom to move. I also felt strangely 'covered up', and not at all embarrassed (as I had thought I might be). The pain was worse now, and I felt that I was only just coping, and that I could not take much more, when all of a sudden came the urge to push.

People tend to look at me strangely when I say that pushing was fun, but it was. The pain was now more in the background, and I focussed much more on the work required to push the baby out. I could feel his head 'turning the corner' and then frustratingly slipping back again, and I began to concentrate entirely on holding it in position. Throughout my labour, the only assessment tool used that impinged on me was a Doppler machine to listen to the baby's heart. The midwives had a waterproof one, but the batteries ran out, and my only real moment of panic came as Martyn left me to try to find some replacements. Sharon and Lynn were very good at keeping monitoring unobtrusive, so that I could continue to focus wholly on my efforts to push. As I became slightly downcast that I was not getting anywhere, Lynn encouraged me to feel for the baby's head with my fingers. This I did, and was surprised at how far I had progressed. I decided to redouble my efforts, but this conviction was coloured by a fear of how the birth was going to feel.

I need not have worried. I felt the birth of the head, but it did not really hurt. I could feel the baby moving now, and it sort of dawned on me that this was someone else, someone alive and separate to me. Lynn advised a nice slow push to finish the job, and the next thing I knew, she was urging me to pick up my baby. She had to say it twice, because I did not quite believe her. I looked down, and there he was, blinking at me from the bottom of the pool. I lifted him out, and Sharon asked 'what I had got'. "You're a boy" I said, but no one heard (did I even say it aloud?) and I had to repeat myself - it was really nice to discover this for myself and not to be told.

I will never forget that night. The room was lit with just a couple of lamps, my cats were watching through the patio doors to the conservatory, Martyn was sitting in front of me looking exhausted (after hours of feeding me grapes) but amazed. When I finally climbed out of the pool, I too felt exhausted, and in fact I was unable to climb the stairs to bed. Lynn remained with us until around 4.30am, and then we were alone together, just the three of us, sleeping a little (but not much) in my lounge. This was one of the best bits - no separation, and no strangers intervening. Martyn and I lay on our respective sofas and watched our new baby son.