Bessie
15-07-2006, 15:09
Long post warning! sorry!
As my due date neared, my BHs started to become stronger and more painful. I had a few false starts but nothing to merit calling the hospital. Then on Tuesday night, I started to get some pains while watching “Prison Break”. I ignored them as much as possible and stretched out on the sofa as I wasn’t missing the last-but-one episode. That night I went to bed and felt pretty sure things were happening, but I thought I’d best try and get some sleep or I wouldn’t have the energy for labour. I got just a few hours sleep, what with contractions and waking for the loo, then decided at about 3am that this was “it”. I woke up hubby and we went through to the lounge room and lit the fire. I lit candles and he timed contractions and noted them down for me. I found I wanted to be upright and the contractions were so much more bearable if I rocked my pelvis. I tried sitting down occasionally, but that seemed to increase the pain. I also tried bathing and I would lean forward when a contraction came and DH would rub the lower part of my back, either side of my spine, with bath oil. Then I had some more time back in the lounge room and rang my mate at about 7.00am to see if she could take the kids into school and daycare. I also tried using the tens machine, which definitely took some bite off the contractions, although I found I was going to the loo all the time and having to make sure the wires didn’t get in the way!
It wasn’t until later that I got my show, at 9.20am. After my1st labour, I’ve always been a bit scared of blood, but this was mucusy and we rang the hospital for advice at around 10.00am. They were jam packed with women, and once the midwife had determined it was the show and not blood, she told me to stay at home longer. I had really mixed feelings about this as I was beginning to wonder if I could continue to cope with the pain at home, but also knew that my best bet at having a VBAC was to stay home as long as I could. I freaked a bit, then got on with things, put some music on and continued with the pelvic rocking. I was getting quite tired at times and so would sit down to rest between contractions, moving quickly over to the piano to lean over it when a contraction came on. At this time my contractions were around 5 or 6 minutes apart and DH was giving me a running analysis on whether they were getting closer together or not, which I got mildly irritated with…. I didn’t hit him though!
At some point I then got into a nice warm bath again. The pains were 5 or 6 minutes apart, when suddenly there was a really weird popping noise, with pinky water which gushed up out the bath slightly (sorry tmi)… my waters had broken in the bath at 11.20am. Now the pains started to come every 3 minutes I thought I’d best get out of the bath and DH rand the hospital. They were now happy for me to come down so I shakily got myself dressed and we hunted around for bits and pieces we’d taken out of the hospy bag. The car felt really hot and uncomfortable and I had to ask DH to slow on the freeway. The pains were also much worse, although I had the tens on, I couldn’t move around and the pains were going into my back. I checked into the maternal foetal assessment unit and they had my notes ready. I declined the wheelchair, preferring to walk to the ward, I wasn’t being a martyr or anything, it’s just I couldn’t bear to sit down any longer and knew that being upright would put as much pressure on my pelvis as possible.
At the admissions place they quickly worked out I was in fairly strong labour, “just look at her face”, then the doctor came and put a cannula in my arm… this was because I was a VBAC and it’s policy to have that needle there in case they need to administer drugs quickly. I felt very disorientated and really didn’t like having to sit, so got up again when I could. I was then transferred to a labour suite, which was very bright, white and clinical. I had to lie on my side on the bed while the monitors were strapped to my tummy and the middy caught up on my notes. I seemed to have quite a few contractions before I summoned up the confidence to ask if I could change positions. The midwife fetched a bean bag and I knelt over that. All the time, I felt really conscious of the machines and bright lights, which I found very off putting after my more intimate home environment. The contractions slowed down during this phase and I was beginning to really go into myself. Thankfully my husband spoke to the midwife and told her that my contractions had been much closer together before, and he suggested getting me back onto my feet. I wasn’t sure as I was starting to feel very tired, but once standing and leaning on him, I felt much better. We turned our music on and at about that point I realised that this was the room I’d be having bubs in, I’d thought perhaps it was an assessment room since it looked nothing like the more homely rooms we’d seen on our hospital tour. At this point I was using entonox, and another midwife took over. She re-positioned the monitoring belts and read my birth plan.
To our surprise, the new midwife really liked our birth plan. We’d included quite a lot of detail as we’d experienced quite a bad birth first time round, then a much better VBAC. It was a very low-intervention plan and this fitted in with the midwife’s philosophy, so we seemed to hit it off. She even chatted about birthing upright, which I wasn’t that keen on as I couldn’t imagine having the energy to stand and give birth as I was already tired. However, I thought it was pretty cool she was willing to try different things.
This midwife checked my dilation after a fairly quick hop back onto the bed. I was 5 cm dilated, which I found a bit gutting as I imagined I’d made a lot more progress. I kept needing the loo as I’d drank lots of water, so the two midwives found a new way of attaching entonox tubes together so I could take it in with me. They also scoured the ward for the remote telemetry monitor, so after a few contractions, I was fairly free to move, although the belts still felt a bit bulky.
We continued on with the labour and my contractions became closer again. At some point a supervisor came in and looked at the foetal heart traces and made some really negative comments about the foetal heart being “a bit tacky” which I assume means Tachycardic, or some abnormal heart rhythm. She also told my midwife to put me on a drip for fluids. Its funny how during labour someone can come in, make a few negative comments and totally change the atmosphere in the room, before leaving. However, it was a relief when she left as the midwife and DH just encouraged me to drink lots of water instead.
Although I generally trusted my midwife, there were still moments when I felt distrust. This is hardly surprising after a negative birth experience plus knowing that as a VBAC, there will be times when medical people will err on the side of caution and are having to adhere to standard hospital practices. I had to keep ignoring these negative thoughts and kept asking DH to pray for me or focused on my music, which helped me to chill out.
Later on during the final stages of the first stage of labour, came the time when I felt the most anxiety and panic. I was checked for a second time and it was discovered that I was 9 cm dilated or so, but there was a cervical lip which refused to be pushed back by the midwife. I could barely communicate with my DH and it was then that I began to wonder if I’d end up in theatre. Every contraction was wearing me out and it became a battle to hang on in there. I could hear the midwife telling my DH that the baby would be born really soon, but the time felt like forever. She asked me a few times if I wanted to push, but I just didn’t have that feeling yet, so they laid me down on my side.
At some point, I felt a slight urge to push, perhaps my anxiety before was part of the transition, and at this point I found it very hard to start pushing… I couldn’t pinpoint how to do it and felt that there was no use. The midwife took the gas off me and whispered to DH that I had “gone on strike”, which was quite true as now I was thinking that I could do with a CSection, although I never said this out loud, I was feeling really sick and tired of being in labour and felt like giving up.
Eventually I managed to focus on pushing, after a bit of moaning out and winging and feeling very upset my gas had gone. This seemed to go on forever (in comparison to my last labour) but I realised that the midwife was trying her best to follow my birth plan and was allowing my perineum to stretch, to minimise the risk of me tearing. I had to grab one leg and hold it up in the air and found the whole position uncomfortable. After a while, I had to shift onto the other side. I have no idea how long I was pushing for, although DH reckons it wasn’t that long. Eventually bub’s head came out and the midwife tried to manipulate her body out, but she wouldn’t budge. It turns out that she stuck her elbow out while coming down through my vagina and managed to tear me internally.
Once bub was born the midwife gave her straight to me. She was all warm, sticky and messy, covered in gunky vernix and some meconium, but this was a wonderful experience I hadn’t had before. We cuddled up in the warm hospital blankets and I fed her for the first time. The midwife left us quite a long time, which was lovely, and also meant that bub got all her cord blood since the cord wasn’t cut until much later, which was again part of our birth plan. I agreed to the injection to expel the placenta since I was so worn out and wanted to get the final stage over and done with. When this was done, DH cut the cord (which is amusing as the cord had already been cut nearer to the placenta) and later bubs was checked and weighed while I showered.
As my due date neared, my BHs started to become stronger and more painful. I had a few false starts but nothing to merit calling the hospital. Then on Tuesday night, I started to get some pains while watching “Prison Break”. I ignored them as much as possible and stretched out on the sofa as I wasn’t missing the last-but-one episode. That night I went to bed and felt pretty sure things were happening, but I thought I’d best try and get some sleep or I wouldn’t have the energy for labour. I got just a few hours sleep, what with contractions and waking for the loo, then decided at about 3am that this was “it”. I woke up hubby and we went through to the lounge room and lit the fire. I lit candles and he timed contractions and noted them down for me. I found I wanted to be upright and the contractions were so much more bearable if I rocked my pelvis. I tried sitting down occasionally, but that seemed to increase the pain. I also tried bathing and I would lean forward when a contraction came and DH would rub the lower part of my back, either side of my spine, with bath oil. Then I had some more time back in the lounge room and rang my mate at about 7.00am to see if she could take the kids into school and daycare. I also tried using the tens machine, which definitely took some bite off the contractions, although I found I was going to the loo all the time and having to make sure the wires didn’t get in the way!
It wasn’t until later that I got my show, at 9.20am. After my1st labour, I’ve always been a bit scared of blood, but this was mucusy and we rang the hospital for advice at around 10.00am. They were jam packed with women, and once the midwife had determined it was the show and not blood, she told me to stay at home longer. I had really mixed feelings about this as I was beginning to wonder if I could continue to cope with the pain at home, but also knew that my best bet at having a VBAC was to stay home as long as I could. I freaked a bit, then got on with things, put some music on and continued with the pelvic rocking. I was getting quite tired at times and so would sit down to rest between contractions, moving quickly over to the piano to lean over it when a contraction came on. At this time my contractions were around 5 or 6 minutes apart and DH was giving me a running analysis on whether they were getting closer together or not, which I got mildly irritated with…. I didn’t hit him though!
At some point I then got into a nice warm bath again. The pains were 5 or 6 minutes apart, when suddenly there was a really weird popping noise, with pinky water which gushed up out the bath slightly (sorry tmi)… my waters had broken in the bath at 11.20am. Now the pains started to come every 3 minutes I thought I’d best get out of the bath and DH rand the hospital. They were now happy for me to come down so I shakily got myself dressed and we hunted around for bits and pieces we’d taken out of the hospy bag. The car felt really hot and uncomfortable and I had to ask DH to slow on the freeway. The pains were also much worse, although I had the tens on, I couldn’t move around and the pains were going into my back. I checked into the maternal foetal assessment unit and they had my notes ready. I declined the wheelchair, preferring to walk to the ward, I wasn’t being a martyr or anything, it’s just I couldn’t bear to sit down any longer and knew that being upright would put as much pressure on my pelvis as possible.
At the admissions place they quickly worked out I was in fairly strong labour, “just look at her face”, then the doctor came and put a cannula in my arm… this was because I was a VBAC and it’s policy to have that needle there in case they need to administer drugs quickly. I felt very disorientated and really didn’t like having to sit, so got up again when I could. I was then transferred to a labour suite, which was very bright, white and clinical. I had to lie on my side on the bed while the monitors were strapped to my tummy and the middy caught up on my notes. I seemed to have quite a few contractions before I summoned up the confidence to ask if I could change positions. The midwife fetched a bean bag and I knelt over that. All the time, I felt really conscious of the machines and bright lights, which I found very off putting after my more intimate home environment. The contractions slowed down during this phase and I was beginning to really go into myself. Thankfully my husband spoke to the midwife and told her that my contractions had been much closer together before, and he suggested getting me back onto my feet. I wasn’t sure as I was starting to feel very tired, but once standing and leaning on him, I felt much better. We turned our music on and at about that point I realised that this was the room I’d be having bubs in, I’d thought perhaps it was an assessment room since it looked nothing like the more homely rooms we’d seen on our hospital tour. At this point I was using entonox, and another midwife took over. She re-positioned the monitoring belts and read my birth plan.
To our surprise, the new midwife really liked our birth plan. We’d included quite a lot of detail as we’d experienced quite a bad birth first time round, then a much better VBAC. It was a very low-intervention plan and this fitted in with the midwife’s philosophy, so we seemed to hit it off. She even chatted about birthing upright, which I wasn’t that keen on as I couldn’t imagine having the energy to stand and give birth as I was already tired. However, I thought it was pretty cool she was willing to try different things.
This midwife checked my dilation after a fairly quick hop back onto the bed. I was 5 cm dilated, which I found a bit gutting as I imagined I’d made a lot more progress. I kept needing the loo as I’d drank lots of water, so the two midwives found a new way of attaching entonox tubes together so I could take it in with me. They also scoured the ward for the remote telemetry monitor, so after a few contractions, I was fairly free to move, although the belts still felt a bit bulky.
We continued on with the labour and my contractions became closer again. At some point a supervisor came in and looked at the foetal heart traces and made some really negative comments about the foetal heart being “a bit tacky” which I assume means Tachycardic, or some abnormal heart rhythm. She also told my midwife to put me on a drip for fluids. Its funny how during labour someone can come in, make a few negative comments and totally change the atmosphere in the room, before leaving. However, it was a relief when she left as the midwife and DH just encouraged me to drink lots of water instead.
Although I generally trusted my midwife, there were still moments when I felt distrust. This is hardly surprising after a negative birth experience plus knowing that as a VBAC, there will be times when medical people will err on the side of caution and are having to adhere to standard hospital practices. I had to keep ignoring these negative thoughts and kept asking DH to pray for me or focused on my music, which helped me to chill out.
Later on during the final stages of the first stage of labour, came the time when I felt the most anxiety and panic. I was checked for a second time and it was discovered that I was 9 cm dilated or so, but there was a cervical lip which refused to be pushed back by the midwife. I could barely communicate with my DH and it was then that I began to wonder if I’d end up in theatre. Every contraction was wearing me out and it became a battle to hang on in there. I could hear the midwife telling my DH that the baby would be born really soon, but the time felt like forever. She asked me a few times if I wanted to push, but I just didn’t have that feeling yet, so they laid me down on my side.
At some point, I felt a slight urge to push, perhaps my anxiety before was part of the transition, and at this point I found it very hard to start pushing… I couldn’t pinpoint how to do it and felt that there was no use. The midwife took the gas off me and whispered to DH that I had “gone on strike”, which was quite true as now I was thinking that I could do with a CSection, although I never said this out loud, I was feeling really sick and tired of being in labour and felt like giving up.
Eventually I managed to focus on pushing, after a bit of moaning out and winging and feeling very upset my gas had gone. This seemed to go on forever (in comparison to my last labour) but I realised that the midwife was trying her best to follow my birth plan and was allowing my perineum to stretch, to minimise the risk of me tearing. I had to grab one leg and hold it up in the air and found the whole position uncomfortable. After a while, I had to shift onto the other side. I have no idea how long I was pushing for, although DH reckons it wasn’t that long. Eventually bub’s head came out and the midwife tried to manipulate her body out, but she wouldn’t budge. It turns out that she stuck her elbow out while coming down through my vagina and managed to tear me internally.
Once bub was born the midwife gave her straight to me. She was all warm, sticky and messy, covered in gunky vernix and some meconium, but this was a wonderful experience I hadn’t had before. We cuddled up in the warm hospital blankets and I fed her for the first time. The midwife left us quite a long time, which was lovely, and also meant that bub got all her cord blood since the cord wasn’t cut until much later, which was again part of our birth plan. I agreed to the injection to expel the placenta since I was so worn out and wanted to get the final stage over and done with. When this was done, DH cut the cord (which is amusing as the cord had already been cut nearer to the placenta) and later bubs was checked and weighed while I showered.