Sharing my birth story

It is probably important I start at the beginning, the start of parenthood, the moment I became a Mother.

Another reason for writing this is it was one of the best pieces of advice I received post-birth. I was sat at home, I had a newborn baby next to me, and I had just gone through a fairly traumatic experience, a completely new experience, and I didn’t know how to deal with everything going through my mind.

My neighbour, a paedetrician, checked in via Whatsapp and said to me it was important to speak about and share my birth story. That I needed to share it in order to process it.

Here it is below, and afterwards I’ll explain why writing this down really helped me. (and if you don’t want to read it you can just scroll through to read the reasons)

I started contracting on Saturday 2nd May at midday. I waited until 7pm that evening, decided I was in quite a lot of pain and made my way into triage. Unfortunately I was not what they term ‘active labour’ so I was sent home around 9pm.

At the time of birth, the UK was in complete lockdown, unfortunately each time I visited triage I had to say goodbye to my husband and waddle my way in to the maternity department. When it is your first baby, you’ve never experienced this before, the best way to describe how I felt was quite simply, absolutely terrified.

I went in again at 3am, and was sent home at 5. Although the pain was increasing, the baby was back to back and labour still had not progressed enough to admit me into active labour. Yet again I was sent back to the car park where my husband was eagerly waiting for me with any update of news.

I did not sleep a wink. I tried the bath. I tried my tens machine, white noise, anything and everything. 9:30am Sunday morning I told my husband, we’re going back there, I’ve waited as long as I could and I need help. Again as we arrived at the hospital, I said goodbye to him, confident things were progressing. Each time I said goodbye I was hopeful this was it, but also so emotional that I was having to say goodbye to the one person I needed by my side more than ever.

After another hour passed and he hadn’t heard from me he called the triage department (as there was security on the doors preventing him from entering), they said they hadn’t assessed me yet but I had fallen asleep so they’ve left me to rest. Little did I know how much my body was trying to gain some energy for what was to come.

Another assessment, same response, no progression. The midwife could see the disappointment in my face, I burst into tears and told her I didn’t think I could go back home and come out again. She told me to go for a nice walk outside as the rest of the hospital was locked down due to Covid.

I met Mike in the car park and we walked around the grounds of the hospital for hours. I lunged, skipped, hopped, everything. Pausing only to breathe through a contraction and pinch my husband so he could feel the pain too!

2pm, I am 4cm and I am told I’m going to be admitted. (I don’t even know if I was 4cm, but after seeing me so many times, I don’t think the midwife was telling me to go again!)

I still feel one of the hardest parts of labour was having to be in and out of the hospital without Mike by my side. He had been to absolutely every appointment with me up until lockdown. I had never felt so alone. I really needed the emotional support from him. No one should be in there alone. Whether it is a scan, a midwife appointment, a blood test or labour. Who ever has decided this rule, I can guarantee you has never been in that situation. Finally, he was allowed to be with me.

At 2pm I was moved to the birthing suite, I have never seen Mike turn up so quickly with all of our bags. I was ecstatic! Things are happening. Or so I thought! I was giddy, telling Mike we’re going to meet our baby today. We sat chatting, eating through our massive snack bag, and anticipated the hours ahead.

The birthing suite was great, the midwives couldn’t have been lovelier, and apart from a Covid test mid contraction (pretty horrific where I ended up squeezing & pinching the midwife and later having to apologise!), and seeing a lot of PPE you wouldn’t have known we were in the middle of a pandemic and the hospital was in complete lockdown.

Unfortunately it was taking 4-5 hours at a time to even progress 1cm. The baby was back to back, and the pain was getting worse. Mike was holding a hot water bottle up against my back, and the midwife had essential oils on tissues surrounding my head. They were all trying their best to help me, but nothing was happening.

They broke my waters to try to move him along, but his positioning meant I wasn’t continuing to dilate any further. At 11pm they recommended, as I’d been in labour for so long and hadn’t properly slept since the Friday, to try something to increase the dilation. I went over to the delivery suite. Weirdly I insisted on walking rather than being pushed in a wheelchair, I think I thought sitting down was going to slow things! No one argued against me because no one does when you’re in labour, I think I could have suggested many things and Mike would have nodded.

In the delivery suite they suggested an epidural and a hormone to make me contract as they were slowing down. I had always been quite wary of an epidural, however it was the best thing for me as it meant I could get some rest and be able to build some energy ahead of having to push.

7am Monday, I got to 8cm dilated. I was over the moon, I kept saying to Mike, we’re actually going to meet him soon!

My excitement quickly curbed when the doctor entered the room to tell me they were really conscious that every time I contracted his heart rate was dipping. The midwife and doctor proceeded to have a disagreement across my bed on whether to continue the hormone which was keeping my labour progressing, or stop the hormone to stop the fluctuation in his heart rate. I completely understand these discussions were necessary, but I don’t think they quite knew how much their language panicked us.

The doctor said I had 2 hours to get to 10cm otherwise they were taking me into surgery. At 8am, I had shooting pains down the right hand side of my back, the epidural had to be adjusted and topped up.

10am, I’m given an extension, one more additional hour to get to 10cm.

I am now under Doctor led care. The baby is still back to back star gazing. Every contraction is causing his heart rate to completely drop. I hear the doctor call for support, I have suddenly gone from midwife, my husband and myself for the majority of my experience to 12 people in the room preparing for my delivery. The doctor made the decision he had to get the baby out immediately and he was going to try an instrumental delivery. He shouted to get a paediatrician in here for delivery immediately.

It wasn’t until I got home and spoke to Mike about the experience that he explained how frightened he was. Everything had been calm and then suddenly it felt very panicked and nothing that we had prepared for. I understand medical professionals are extremely practical, but I wasn’t prepared for the language they were using and how critical it was they delivered our baby immediately.

12:27 Monday 4th May our little Sidney Coco Ellwood Stratton was born weighing 7 lb 3oz.

He was absolutely fine, sorry, he was absolutely perfect!

A slight delay and then a perfect cry. The relief and the emotion filled me. Our little boy was here, on my chest, and staring up at me. He still makes that cheeky same face when I’m feeding him in the night, a little check to see if I’m there with him.

Unfortunately despite two injections my placenta never came, the doctor gave the umbilical chord a tug and it snapped. He had his head in his hands and told me he was going to have to take me to theatre to remove it. I had to say goodbye to Mike and Sidney, and I was taken down.

On the way to theatre I started projectile vomiting. I think it was pure exhaustion, and the injections to make my stomach contract the placenta out. The doctor had stitched me up already so all this had to be undone in theatre for the placenta to be manually removed.

Theatre didn’t go to plan, and what was supposed to be a few minutes was over an hour. Mike was with Sidney and our midwife was running back and forth giving updates. Because I am super awkward in awkward situations, whilst I’m in theatre, legs open wide on stirrups, and experiencing complications I decide to be MISS CHATTY CATHY and I am asking every person in that room how they are, where they live, what they like to do at the weekends. Anything to detract from the position I’m in.

Not long after, I’m wheeled back to the ward and reunited with my husband and baby boy. I never want to be separated or without them again. They are my unit. My team. I’m filled with emotion knowing what we’ve all just been through together and this new, deep found love and admiration I have for them both. My boys. Our family.

That’s my birth story. Now, why am I sharing it with you?

I am writing it down, not to claim that it was traumatic, or more traumatic than anyone elses. I am writing it down because writing it down, and sharing it to close friends helped me so much after my birth. There were moments when I was really scared, and absolutely terrified. Moments I just couldn’t make any decisions and just looked at my husband for help and guidance. There were days after when I thought back to birth, or something triggered the experience and I felt myself choked up and stupidly thinking what if it hadn’t all been ok in the end or if the doctor hadn’t intervened.

Birth is such a huge event, even if it goes to plan, it is so important we talk about it and we process it.

My birth wouldn’t be labelled as traumatic, but it still rocked me. Even if it had have gone to ‘plan’ I still think it is important to write it down and to share it.

I did so much research in my pregnancy but I fully expected a low intervention, drug free, birthing suite delivery. I had a beautifully crafted birthing plan that I gave to my midwife, not only did it not go to that plan, all that happened was I practically played birthing bingo. I was encouraged to write this plan, I put it off for ages because I knew in my head nothing actually goes to plan. I was asked at appointment after appointment whether I had written it or not yet. I should have instead been told that nothing really does ever go to plan and to just know all of the options. To embrace labour.

I should have been told it was a mental game. That I would need to prepare for changing scenarios, overcoming new and unexpected hurdles. Instead of running away from other peoples birth stories with the notion of ‘no birth is the same’ I should have armed myself with other peoples stories and prepared myself that everyone experiences their own birth story.

I knew about different birth possibilities but I wasn’t prepared for a different birth scenario.

Writing has helped me process mine and I hope if my birth story even helps just one person then that’s everything I could hope for and more.

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Why share your birth story?

Help encourage other mothers to be

Each woman who shares their birth story, shares their knowledge that may just help the next person. For example, whenever I enquired about epidurals from people around me I received negative responses. The decision to have one wasn’t really a decision, it was a necessary in order to manage the constant contraction in order to progress his birth. After now having one, I will tell people with confidence how much it helped me and enabled my baby boy to enter this world. Right now we’re in the middle of a pandemic, time with midwives etc are limited, you could really help someone right now from sharing your experience.

For those listening, there’s much to draw on to help them prepare for their own informed and empowered birth experience. However it may unfold. 

For yourself, to find your own healing

This goes back to my initial reasons for writing this blog, a problem shared is a problem halved. Sharing something helps us connect, helps us let go, helps to empower us. It helps so an event does not sit in our minds, it isn’t allowed to build against us or cause anxiety. When you’re already navigating those post natal hormones and emotions, you need to let it out and enable your healing process.

Recounting your memories helps you sort through your emotions and brings out whatever you may be struggling with. Taking away some of the power from painful experiences and allows acceptance and peace closer.

It was only yesterday in the local park whilst I was pushing Sidney on the swing that I overheard two Dads discussing how one of their partners was now 24 weeks pregnant and still not over the trauma of her first birth. His words were, ‘I just don’t think she has ever spoken about it properly or processed it”

Memories

Especially with baby brain! Having that memory for your children is very special so that one day you can talk to them and reflect. Imagine in years to come and your daughter might be pregnant, how reassuring it may be for her to hear of your birth story and how you got through it.

So as you tell your story, or write about your experience, suspend all judgement and just let the words flow. Whether a writer or not. Dig deep and write. From recent experience all I can say further is, it helps. It is healing.