Re sharing here because it doesn't seem to show on its original blog.
Where to begin? Two weeks on and I’m still not quite sure where Zeke’s eventful birth story starts. Does it begin with May 8, when I thought he’d arrive, or May 19th when he should have arrived?
My due date came and went, after weeks of thinking that he would arrive early I was surprised (and a little disappointed… I was ready to meet my baby!) with every day that passed.
At every prenatal appointment I was told that the baby’s head (we were waiting till birth to find out the gender) still hadn’t descended into my pelvis at all, despite the optimal foetal positioning I had religiously been practising. Zeke had begun to work his way around to a left anterior position, (he had spent the last few weeks posterior) but was more than happy floating up high… well away from my cervix.
I had a number of chiropractic appointments in the last few weeks, in order to prepare my pelvis and hips, and received the wonderful news that everything there was stretching and softening well and physically I was in great shape for labour and birth… turns out the baby had inherited daddy’s stubborn nature!
41 weeks came and went too… the midwives were concerned as the head was still high, I was not dilated much (about 1cm) and Zeke obstinately had his hands jammed up by his face making it impossible for him to fit into my pelvis. After a check up and an ultrasound it was decided by the Birth Centre GP to induce at 42weeks exactly… June 2nd
This was a hard decision for me, I had planned a natural birth, possibly in the water at the Birth Centre, and induction would mean I would be transferred to the main maternity ward instead. Zeke was healthy and well, he had plenty of fluid around him, and his cord and placenta were in great shape. However physically I was exhausted… my hips and back hurt constantly and my entire body had broken out in a stress rash… a sign that it was overworked and if I didn’t do something soon I would not only be tired, but sick as well.
Given that Zeke was well, but I wasn’t it felt like a selfish decision to induce. If he was fine and obviously not ready to come out, why force him… but on the other hand, I was so tired (I was barely able to sleep for more than half an hour in a stretch) how would I cope with possibly another week of pregnancy and then labour? After many talks with my mother, my partner Ryan and my doula Julie I decided for my own well being to go ahead with the induction rather than wait for spontaneous labour.
Julie especially was great in helping me make the decision. She understood both my desire to have the natural birth I planned, and the eagerness to JUST HAVE MY BABY…. NOW! She explained the pros and cons of transferring to the main ward, and what induction would involve, and generally made sure I wasn’t making an uninformed decision. It was with her counselling and advice I finally felt comfortable with the decision to head in at 7am Monday June 2nd for induction, and allowed my appointment to stay on the record.
This didn’t mean I was just going to sit around the house and wait for Monday morning though! I had two acupuncture appointments, which triggered some decent Braxton Hicks contractions, stayed as upright and mobile as possible – shuffling around the house with sciatic pain – ate curry, a very long drive on a bumpy road, had hot baths and generally sent as many loving labour vibes to my belly as I possibly could! However the only thing I achieved by this was a hole in our wallets, a near-empty petrol tank, a constant need to soak in the bath to relieve my back pain, what must be a huge water bill and a lot of curry!
After a sleepless night on the Sunday, Ryan and I dragged ourselves out of bed to call the hospital and confirm they were still ready for me to come in for induction. We were given the all clear, so after a couple of quick phone calls to our parents, a brief text to Julie letting her know we were heading off, and a think about breakfast, I couldn’t eat due to a combination of anxiety and excitement, we did one last check of the car and headed off to the hospital.
Despite my inability to eat breakfast, I still felt thoroughly queasy during the ride and ended up vomiting into an old Hungry Jack’s drink cup! How very glamorous, and what a way to start the day! It had been some weeks since my last bout of morning sickness (at about 18weeks), and the need to constantly have a ‘munt bag’ (an old plastic shopping bag) in the car had long since passed… or so we thought! Ryan pulled over into a (thankfully empty) industrial estate where I left a lovely offering in their gutter and we continued on our way… keeping the cup with us just in case my nerves got the better of me again!
We arrived at the hospital and headed straight upstairs to the maternity ward where we were shown to a delivery room and checked in. They checked my blood pressure (I remember it being remarkably high for me… I think it was 110/60… nervous much?) and other stats, and asked me something I would come to answer what felt like hundreds of times over the next few days… “What are you allergic to?” Answer: beestings, nickel and peanuts.
20 minutes later the obstetrician arrived and performed THE MOST PAINFUL internal exam I had had to date… it was her doing that I would later announce that I’d “rather have a caesarean than another internal exam!” I had had two exams in the past week, both of which I found uncomfortable, but bearable, but this OB rammed her in fingers without any warning, which had me squirming back up the bed trying to get away. In retrospect she had all the grace and delicacy of a rugby player tackling his opponent at the waist! She said I was still 1cm dilated but my cervix was much softer, and inserted the prostaglandin gel. It immediately started some decent cramps, a lot like period pain, but felt stronger (alternately not having had any for some months may have been why they felt so bad.) As soon as they started the only thing I wanted to do was get off my back, but I had to stay put for half an hour or so, so the gel had time to soak in or something.
Those 30 minutes were SOOOOOO slow, but once I was on my feet again it was much better, my back and butt hurt a LOT less than when I was lying down. I was able to waddle around, and went out to the courtyard in the hospital a few times and while Ryan fielded phone calls, I leant on the fence around the fish pond and watched the carp swimming around, relaxing as much as I could and stared at ‘Tumour Fish’… the biggest fish in the pond with these weird growths on its body! ‘Tumour Fish’ became a good friend and distraction during the 3 or 4 trips we made down to the courtyard… he gave me something else to think about!
After a while (an hour or so I guess, maybe two, I really didn’t watch the clock… I know I ate some lunch at some point) we called mum as Ryan was hungry and had no cash, and the hospital cafeteria didn’t have an ATM, so she came to the rescue, also bringing me fruit in jelly – which I didn’t eat in the end – and some drinks, which would be ignored in favour firstly of iced water (the drinks mum had bought weren’t cold) and then “Julie’s drink”… not 100% sure what it was, but it was yummy and had something that really helped keep me going… I think it was basically an electrolyte powder in water, but I really enjoyed it, particularly the slight fizzy-ness and had a bit of a sook later on when I was offered water instead of the drink when Julie was out of the room!
My sciatica kicked in a little while after mum left, and I began to have trouble with my leg aching, which made it harder to walk, and I began to spend contractions kneeling on the floor with my head in Ryan’s lap. My back had begun to ache too, I think at this point Zeke began to rotate back into his pregnancy preferred posterior presentation, away from the optimal LOA positioning I had spent the last week trying to coax him into! After requesting a – lukewarm and thoroughly useless – heat pack, I asked Ryan to call Julie and get her to come in… I was getting pretty anti-social as the contractions (though mild) were coming fairly close together and I didn’t want to talk to anyone on the phone – a sign that I was definitely feeling a bit crappy, I usually have constant verbal diarrhoea! Mind you, even going to the loo was a bit of an effort, the cramping made sitting on the toilet very unpleasant, and going itself impossible, so I would kind of hover and wait for the cramp to pass.
The midwives were in and out through all of this checking how often the contractions came, and I complained about the heat pack. I was brought a new one, which wasn’t much hotter, but helped ease the ache in my right thigh. They offered me the opportunity to go into the ward instead of sitting in the labour room, but I said I would be happier in private and where I had a nice birth mat to kneel/lie/flop on, a toilet that was actually in the same room as I was, and a bigger floor space to attempt to waddle around when I could.
Julie arrived not long after that, and massaged my thigh for a while which helped more, she had also bought her own heat packs which she heated herself and made them MUCH hotter – lovely! This allowed me to get back up on my feet, and after (grudgingly) allowing the midwife to strap on battery operated CTG receivers we padded up and down the hallway, stopping to lean on Ryan when another contraction came and rocking my hips, with Julie guiding me to rock clockwise as I seemed to have no sense of direction!
The CTG was a pain in the ass! Zeke had never liked them (I had had 3 or 4 during the last 2 weeks and he had obstinately fought and punched at everyone, meaning it often took far longer than ‘normal’ to get a decent reading) and would continually move away from the receiver, causing the machine to beep loudly when it lost his heartbeat. This sent us shuffling back to the room so the midwife could re-position the receiver, and with Zeke’s heartbeat throbbing away, we’d set off again, only to have him move away and make the CTG start beeping again! Lather, rinse and repeat for some time. I also remember having an icy pole while walking, I think they were trying to ‘wake’ Zeke to see some acceleration in his heart rate, but he was more than happy asleep… and I was more than happy to enjoy the icy pole!
After an hour or so of walking around, still with a massive cramp down my leg, I was given another internal (why on earth did I consent to another one?) and was told that I had made little progress, I was about 2cm dilated by then but my cervix had effaced properly, and that the contractions were mostly caused by the gel so they wanted to send me to the ward. They also couldn’t give me another lot of gel or start the drip because the baby’s head was still too high. (All the loving vibes in the world don’t work when Zeke’s made his mind up!)
I really didn’t want to go into to the ward, I was sure for some reason (turns out I was wrong… and why would they have done that anyway?) that I would be put in a shared room and have no privacy, but as I really wasn’t making much progress, they were pretty keen to get me out of the delivery suite. Fortunately something ‘down there’ got the message, and another hour later, the contractions had really picked up I was declared ‘officially’ in labour and I started to have some trouble with them… making a bit of noise, and beginning to be uncomfortable in most positions.
It was during this point when the contractions really picked up that I was back on the CTG for a bit, other than the stuffing around needed to find Zeke’s heart I didn’t mind them too much, I enjoyed being able to hear his heart drumming away. Although given how high his head still was it was pretty counter-productive having to sit/lie for the duration, I probably would have been better off upright and moving around as much as I could. I think it was sometime around now that Ryan would later comment “Those contractions were going ALL THE WAY to the top of the chart!” My response “Don’t remind me! I could FEEL them!”
The midwife on at the time offered me a bath, which I jumped at the idea of, and she went to run it while I hugged heat packs, and tried to take the pressure off my back. There was a bit of messing around with the STUPID #%^$%@ CTG machines again before I could get in the bath properly, and then once I had, the tape they used to stick the receivers on dissolved, so they had to tape them on again, then Zeke moved… then the glue wore off… finally they used the elastic stretchy bands they normally use with great success, they had only not wanted to use the bands because having wet fabric would be ‘uncomfortable’… when my whole belly was already immersed, go figure?
At last I could relax in the bath, I can’t really be sure if it helped with the contractions much, but finally having all the weight off my back was fantastic, I immediately felt better. I lay in the bath for a while, sipping Julie’s drink, rocking my body in the water and moaning through the contractions. The midwives brought my dinner in, so Ryan ate the meat portion, declared it bland and unappealing, and fed me bits of the vegetables in between contractions. Lying in a hot bath and being fed a – surprisingly tasty – roast potato was a lovely feeling! By then I was communicating in shorter or one-word sentences, and so Ryan fed me to the chorus of “More!” “Wait!” (when I had a contraction) “No peas!” “More?” “What’s left?” and finally “More!”
Mum came in to say hi, and greeted me with “How are you doing kid?” I don’t remember this (Thanks to Julie’s notes!) but it certainly makes me laugh now. Coming in to see your daughter in labour and calling her kid! She told me afterwards that I seemed to be quite good, working with the contractions and very calm. She didn’t stay long, and would end up hanging in the emergency waiting room till the early hours!
To help avoid drugs, (I was beginning to struggle a little as the bath cooled) Ryan was also using an acupressure point on my hand to dull the pain, which seemed to help, although there would be a bruise for a few days afterwards! I had brought a bunch of my favourite music, but didn’t feel like any of it, however I began to make my own labour ‘soundtrack’ with my short requests, rhythmical moans, and attempted amusing commentary. The ‘music’ in the instance of acupressure being; “Yes, squeeze! Harder…ouch! Keep squeezing! Ouch!” The acupressure had to be very firm to be effective, and Ryan would always ease off when I complained. I guess it meant he was squeezing REALLY hard if I took a break from moaning about the contraction to say ouch about my hand!
Julie had taken a break while mum was gone and at some point my drink had run out… not good, labour is thirsty work! The midwife kindly refilled my glass but when it was next offered, I was extremely disappointed to taste only water, and other than a small initial sip I’m pretty sure I refused any more drinks until I had Julie’s Drink back! I remember telling Ryan very clearly after pulling my head away with a jerk that “Don’t like it!” and “Want Julie’s Drink!” (Particles had all but escaped my vocabulary by now.)
Julie came back after a while, and heated the water in the bath a bit more. I very clearly remember saying “It needs to get hotter or I need to get out!” I really was very demanding! Once the bath was hot again, she encouraged me to get up and move a little. After floating and being so weightless, the pain immediately became unbearable and I began to get upset, asking Ryan and Julie to make it stop, as soon as I moved to kneeling, the pain in my back just went crazy! They very lovingly encouraged me for a while, using the small bloody show in the bottom of the bath as a point of how much work my body was doing, and I worked with them a little longer. The heat and steam of the bath was making me woozy and my back was hurting fairly consistently all the time, and increasing during contractions. My stomach hurt too, but the back pain was my main issue, after weeks of pain because of being pregnant I just couldn’t cope with anything else in that area hurting.
Not long after that the steam and heat started to bother me too much and I started to lose the plot a little, crying instead of moaning and not moving at all when another contraction came, so Ryan asked for a few minutes alone with me. I think I may have asked for him at the time. Before she and Julie left, the midwife on duty (Helen) offered some gas, and I mumbled something inconclusive about my natural birth plan, followed by something to the effect of “Oh god, make it stop!” Helen said she would set it up for me, but I didn’t have to use it, this seemed a fair compromise, as I hadn’t decided either way.
Ryan encouraged me a little more, but I’d had enough of the bath by then, and demanded “OUT!” so with Ryan’s help I got semi-decent again. (I think the staff were relieved I’m pretty sure I had heard another woman wanted the bath then too.) Meanwhile I complained about each contraction, and we (sort of) discussed the option of using the gas, my head was begging for it, knowing I was exhausted and in pain but part of me still begged for the drug-free birth I’d planned. By sort of discussed I mean I went back and forth going, “I want gas, I want no drugs I want gas…” etc while Ryan listened and rationalised each point as it repetitively came up.
Finally we went back to the labour suite where the gas had been set up, as had the birth mat next to the bed. I have a feeling this may have been Julie’s doing knowing I wanted to stay off the bed, but REALLY needed to at least kneel (if not flop) to take the weight off my back. On seeing the mat, I did just that – flop! A contraction made gravity hurry me along, and I hit my knees pretty damn fast. The increased pressure on my back again sealed the deal in favour of the gas, and Helen told me how to use the mouthpiece. I think I moved to sitting with my legs crossed like they have you do at school and gave the gas a go. It had a funny taste, I’m not sure if it was the plastic mouthpiece or the gas itself, and it made me thirsty, but once I got the hang of it I definitely felt some relief.
I sat on the floor for a little, while Ryan stretched (he’d been sitting hunched up next to the bath for almost two hours) and cuddled me. The contractions were tricky to pre-empt so that the gas could kick in, as there was very little warning before one hit full-force. I remember sitting there, with my eyes tightly shut, internally counting my breathing in for 5 seconds, out for 5 and in again, knowing by that third count of 5 the gas should be taking effect. That really worked, and those three counts of 5, seemed far shorter than the “15 seconds” I had been told to wait for relief. It certainly didn’t take all of the pain away, but made it bearable, as I was sitting with my weight on my hips and barely noticed. Julie put the heat packs back on and I settled into my little counts of 5.
After a while I began to get restless again, as my front started to hurt worse and began to yell at the mouthpiece rather than breathing in the gas, and having to pull it out to suck in air. Ryan tried to keep me focused on the right pattern, but I would rarely last more than one or two contractions before loosing my rhythm again and shouting into the tube rather than breathing in. Julie suggested I got up to use the toilet. It had been only 10 minutes, since I started the gas, but felt longer. The gas has a wonderful way of warping time. I apparently resisted the idea for a while as you can’t take the gas to the bathroom, but hobbled up and went. I learned two things, firstly if cramping and toilets are unpleasant, contractions and toilet seats are a HELLISHLY uncomfortable combination – so, like earlier in the day, I sort of hovered over the toilet seat. Secondly, contractions and a full bladder are equally unpleasant and I felt considerably better after going.
While I was in there, Julie told Ryan I’d be due for another contraction, and he came to support me. I remember thinking very clearly that I didn’t want anyone coming in while I was peeing, I didn’t mind being naked, crying or otherwise being a bit of a mess, but that was ‘my’ space, so I was grateful that he waited till I had finished, yes – I needed to go THAT much they could hear me loud and clear in the other room! He came in as I got up, and proudly pointed out to him more of a show in the toilet and on the paper, and I had barely flushed and staggered back toward the main room that my first contraction since going off the gas (residual gas in my system had made the first one in the toilet less intense) hit. Well, I couldn’t make it back to my mat in time, and I remember leaning on Ryan very heavily and making a whole lot of noise. Ryan later tells me that I screamed so loudly, half the maternity ward babies started crying after that! Now the labour suite and maternity wards are separated by fairly heavy doors, so if I made that much noise, I was really making an effort! (Not to mention how many babies would have had to have woken to cry loudly enough to be heard all the way over where we were!)
I was getting pretty tired by then, and really wanted to lay down, but being on my side wasn’t comfortable, any weight on my hips and back quickly became unbearable again, even when sucking on the gas, which I did like it was my only source of oxygen. So Julie and Ryan helped me get up onto the bed kneeling over pillows with my head turned to the side so I could suck away on the gas again. The gas made me pretty woozy, but it seemed to be doing the trick for a while, so I really don’t remember a lot of lying there using the gas other than the heat packs came and went and I think Ryan cuddled me for a while before taking a break.
A while after Ryan got back I’d decided I’d had enough. The gas wasn’t as effective as it had been, and I started to get angry and exhausted. I’d barely slept the previous night, and although I had been in ‘proper’ labour for only 2.5hours, I’d actually been having contractions for around 12 hours, and was thoroughly exhausted. Around now I think another internal was suggested and I got stroppy and flatly refused. I could feel that I hadn’t made much progress, and didn’t need the discomfort to be told the same thing again.
The staff were pretty insistent about the exam, and I really began to argue telling them that I would rather have a caesarean than have an exam, as I remembered how much the earlier ones hurt, and really did not want to go through that again. I had another breakdown saying I couldn’t do anymore, I was exhausted and I just needed sleep. Their insistence about the exam upset me, and in the end I wound up sobbing and begging firstly not for the internal, and secondly to just do a c-section so I could hold my baby. After some arguing we decided on a shot of pethidine, and while the needle went in I sucked on the gas like crazy… it stung like hell!
After 15 minutes or so of shouting at the staff because I couldn’t feel the peth working, the gas wasn’t enough and my thigh throbbed from the shot I passed out cold, my face planted on the pillows, and the mouthpiece for the gas firmly clamped between my teeth! Ryan said he gently took it out, but even as he did my hand tightened around the tube so he couldn’t take it away all together! Thus began what I call the ‘lost hour’ because I fell asleep so suddenly and heavily, still in pain, and woke up in the same position and in pain, I have no memory of the pethidine being effective. Ryan however tells me I lay there on my side, out cold and slept for at least an hour, while he curled beside me for a break.
The next thing I remember after being angry because the shot had hurt like crazy but I had felt no relief is waking up and jamming the gas back in my mouth in a hurry! Ryan went to visit mum in the ER waiting room while I lay on my side again in increasing pain, sipped more of Julie’s Drink and had the heat packs some more, a big one on my back, and a little one on my front which I remember hugging for comfort long after it was too cold to be of use.
I got up to go to the loo again before having another internal, agreeing mostly because by now I was too tired to argue, and also because I looked at the clock and was surprised at how much time had passed (it was now almost 1am, and I had been given the pethidine around 9) and I wanted to know too. There was a lot of mucking around while the staff, who had wrongly assumed I was mentally uncomfortable with the exam not that it HURT LIKE HELL, tried to reassure me that they would be respectful as possible, covering me up with the blanket (which I didn’t want I was overheated anyway) and trying to talk me through the whole thing. The current OB was far gentler than the first one I had met earlier in the day, although it was still by no means comfortable, despite my furious sucking on the gas and I was relieved but disappointed to hear I was at 6cms, but his head was still high. So close yet so far! I was still exhausted though, and once it was finished, I flopped back to my side, and continued sucking on the gas.
Ryan was sitting in front of me, not doing a lot because I didn’t want him to, but strictly not allowed to leave my touch, holding my hand and cuddling me when I wanted it through each contraction. He was also translating to everyone else as I was mumbling exhaustedly around the mouthpiece, which I refused to remove, not that anyone tried, but I had already made my dizzy fondness for the gas clear. I’m not sure if it was any help for the pain by now, but it allowed my mind to become a bit foggy so I could stop stressing and watching the time.
Since the exam the contractions had been getting steadily more intense, when a HUGE contraction was followed by a gigantic warm gush, and the most intense pressure relief I had felt all evening. I mumbled to Ryan I thought my waters had broken, which he translated to the rest of the room, a very patient midwife Karen who had been watching the CTG and Julie who had been rubbing my back and pushing the heat pack onto me harder for relief. A quick peek at the soggy bed confirmed this, Ryan later told me I was in a two inch deep puddle from my toes to my waist! None of this bothered me, I was too busy breathing huge relieved gasps (without the gas if I remember rightly!) as the water continued to gush and the pressure eased further.
As the baby’s head hadn’t descended at the last internal, I was told another exam was necessary to make sure there was no cord prolapse, even though I was reluctant I agreed, as I’d been well versed in the weeks prior about the concern. Karen did the exam this time, and while she was really careful, it hurt like crazy because the contractions were so hard and frequent by now that she couldn’t avoid them, and I spent the entire time crying and begging her to stop, while Ryan held my hand and Julie kept her hand on my forehead, and I did my best to dislodge all three of them writhing in the bed and making no end of noise. The verdict was no prolapse, which I was relieved about, and I was still 6cms.
This whole period felt like (and I remember it as) forever, but was in actuality only 20 minutes, and after that they got me up to change the bedding as there had been yet more fluid and I was soaked and starting to get chilly. Julie and Karen got busy stripping the bed, while I stood next to it, Ryan holding me up from behind, and watching more of my waters pour out onto the floor. This gives us a good laugh now, me stoned out of my brain on gas (I still hadn’t let go of the mouthpiece!) and the residual pethidine, standing there looking at my wet feet and the puddle on the floor going “Whoa… that’s a lot!” in a thoroughly hazy but impressed voice. Ryan merely agreed with me, and carefully took a step backwards to avoid getting his only pair of socks and shoes wet.
Standing up again seemed to kick things up another notch and after a while I began to ask for sleep and complete pain relief, so I was set up for an epidural, sitting on the edge of the bed, curling forward and holding onto Ryan. The anaesthetist talked me through the procedure, and worked very quickly between contractions, he had already had a few false starts interrupted by another contraction, which were now much closer and far more intense. When he started to push the needle in I had already begun to inhale on the gas and didn’t feel anything. I kept sucking continually, as I had been very afraid of the pain from the injection. The rattling noise from the mouthpiece echoed in my head, and my whole back got very hot for a few seconds, I felt like I was shaking and held Ryan tighter, even though I couldn’t feel a thing I was still really scared that I would, I had been terrified of the idea of an epidural for weeks before.
When it was done I finally let go of the mouthpiece and opened my eyes, I was woozy from so much gas, and I could see at least two of Ryan. Once the dizzy spell passed as my oxygen rebalanced, I lay back down and instantly felt SO MUCH better, I was completely numb and for the first time in a few hours I totally relaxed and went to sleep. Ryan and Julie both went to take well-earned breaks while I dozed off and on, barely aware of anything around me.
Julie had gone over to the Birth Centre for some sleep and Ryan was dozing on a mattress on the floor when I suddenly began to have a lot of pain in my front, and began to really loose the plot again. The midwife who had come into check the CTG readings was talking ‘over my head’ (meaning not to me despite the fact I was in the room and could hear her) and had said something to someone else about the baby’s heart rate dropping and that the baby was tired, before disappearing. This freaked me out plenty and I began to cry and shiver as the pain in my front worsened and no one explained to me what was going on with the baby. Ryan had woken and come back to me as soon as I had woken as I’d called out to him with pain, and the midwives called Julie back. I told her what I’d heard and that I was tired, in pain and scared. Another internal was done and I was told I was now at 9cms, with the baby’s head dropped! I remember thinking I’d be seeing my baby soon for sure, if only I wasn’t still so freaked out. I really was terrified, why, if the baby wasn’t ok weren’t they doing a c-section, and why if everything was ok, had she said anything about the baby’s heart rate in the first place?
The reason for the pain soon became clear, I needed to wee again, but being completely numb, they inserted a catheter, and immediately drained 1000mls (1 litre!) For some reason Ryan delights in telling everyone that you could see my bladder on the outside it was so full and the amount drained. The pain eased almost immediately and settled me down somewhat, I stopped crying and shivering and Karen the nice midwife – the other one who mentioned the baby was tired was no where to be seen – explained that though the heart rate dropped a little during contractions, it was still recovering normally and everything was fine.
Reassured, I calmed down again, but that half hour or so was incredibly scary, and it took a while and another epidural top-up (which I don’t even remember consenting to although I would have had to) before I was resting fully again with Ryan cuddling me and Julie now resting on the mattress. After a while they swapped, Julie rubbing my back and working on my hip bones to help the baby descend, and Ryan sleeping.
We all rested on and off for a while, and by 7ish I was getting even more tired, although I couldn’t feel anything I didn’t sleep heaps, and had really just had enough, I just wanted to meet my baby and snuggle up for a sleep with Ryan and my little one safe in my arms. Ryan’s being asleep was wearing on me too, I really needed a cuddle, and had called out to him (albeit softly) a couple of times to see if he’d wake and come lie next to me, but after only an hour or so of sleep, after staying up all night with me he was out cold.
Not long before 8, the new OB came back to check on me. I remember being reassured that he had “very small hands” my physical discomfort with internals having finally being registered, even though I was now well and truly numb below my waist. Dr Lee checked me very quickly and said that the head was high again, directly posterior (spine to spine) and that I was back to around 6cms.
The decision was made to go ahead with a caesarean, and I was extremely relieved. I was tired, frustrated and just wanted to have my baby and for everything to be over with. As soon as he left the room to go get ready I called out to Ryan (who was still sleeping) to let him know what was happening, and he replied “They’re going to have to wait till I’ve had enough sleep!” Like hell I would have waited, he can sleep for 14 or 15 hours in a stretch!
The next hour before I was taken to the theatre passed in haze of checks, questions and sending text messages. I told everyone my allergies at least 3 or 4 times, and would do so several more in the pre-op area! I also signed the consent forms, completely calm and although disappointed totally confident in the decision to have the section done. I wasn’t making progress, in fact I had gone backwards, and I knew this was the way my baby needed to be born. Ryan was finally pulled into consciousness and I was taken down to the operating room.
After a bit more buggering around with gowns and caps for Ryan, and whether or not I should have a red hairnet because I was allergic, but not to any medications, I didn’t care either way! Ryan had to wait outside when they took me into the theatre to get me prepped and top up the epi, so I gave him a kiss and was wheeled in.
The lovely OR technician, Sean, I still remember him, he was wonderful – the only person at the time who really talked to me like I was a patient rather than an object – helped me sit up so they could get my gown fixed and top the epidural up when they discovered that the catheter for the epidural had come out at some point. Great! Now I had to sit up for longer while they firstly decided whether another epidural was the go or whether to do a spinal block (They chose a spinal.) and then to actually do it. Sean was absolutely wonderful, holding me up and letting me slump as much as I needed on him while the anaesthetist took FIVE (yes – 5!) goes to replace the spinal. (As a result, 2 days post-partum I would suffer from an unbearable epidural headache as my spinal column resembled a sieve, and develop a 2-inch bruise along my spine, which I still have a mark from nearly 10 weeks later.)
I was pretty unaware of the number of goes it was taking, and just held onto Sean for dear life; the earlier epidural made me feel like a sack of potatoes and every time his grip even lessened I’d just about collapse sideways. (There was a pretty freaky moment when he let me go to untangle my foot from my IV tubing and I nearly went over backwards. After that he came right up close and let me lean my head on his shoulder.)
Finally the spinal was in place and topped up more and I was able to lay down again, one of the nurses kept poking my belly, and being satisfied that I was numb, they put a screen up and called Ryan in. He came and sat by my head but by then I was so totally exhausted (not to mention numb and woozy from all the drugs) I couldn’t do much more than glance at him. I think he rubbed my hand and everyone got ready to do their work.
Even though I was really out of it, and hadn’t said anything other than answering questions for probably the past hour a really sharp pain across my belly as Dr Lee made the first incision sure got me to yell! I kept shouting for a bit and probably crying as one of the other staff told me “You can’t feel anything,” and while Dr Lee checked to find out if it was just pressure or if I could actually feel the scalpel. Yep, it was a sharp pain alright, on my right side. The spinal block was lopsided and I could still feel the incision, so without any discussion involving me (not that I would have disagreed anyway) Dr Lee and the anaesthetist decided to put me under a general anaesthetic, and hustled Ryan out of the room again.
I remember thinking, but not saying (I was physically and mentally out of everything) to Ryan “I love you,” and “Wherever the baby goes, follow!” I knew Julie would come and look after me if necessary, and I didn’t want the baby to be alone. I was told as the drugs were given that they “might sting a little” and let me tell you they burned! I’m pretty sure I was still hollering about that even as I went under.
Because of the general Ryan was called back in at the very last minute, and says he came back just in time to see them lifting out our baby… our son. That did it for him apparently, Ryan started bawling and didn’t stop till the baby – ‘he’ we could finally stop saying “it” – was taken to the nursery and he left to call everyone.
Zeke cried immediately although the report I read later said they gave him a puff of oxygen. Ryan was allowed to cut the cord and they wiped him down and took a photo to show me in recovery. Dr Lee delivered the placenta and stitched me up – problem free, finally one thing that went right!
Ezekiel David (although he was not yet named) was born June 3 2008 at 10.26am and weighed in at 3406grams (7 pound 8 ounces) was 48cm long (about 18 or 19 inches) and had a whopping head circumference of 38.5cm!
I woke up in recovery and saw the clock, 11.20am and immediately wanted to ask about my baby, but before I knew what I was doing my mouth yelled because my stomach was sore. One of the nurses showed up at my side and added something in my drip, still woozy I complained because my throat hurt, and she told me it was from the tube they inserted after I was out. Checking my vitals woke me up some and I looked at the clock – 11.30am, the last thing I remember was about 10am outside the operating theatre!
Consciousness finally came to me, and I managed to control my mouth to say something other than random grunts… “Where’s my baby?” The same nurse unsympathetically told me that my baby was fine, in just those words as she left “Your baby is fine.” Boy did she need a lesson in bedside manner! I still had no idea whether I’d had a boy or a girl! A few minutes later, she returned with a photo.
As she dropped the photo into my vision, the first thing my eyes settled on was this huge red pair of testicles between my baby’s splayed legs. I had been positive for the whole pregnancy I was having a girl, yet here he was, with his crying, sleepy daddy next to him, my son… screaming for the world to hear, pink, with rolls of fat on his belly and legs, and totally perfect and beautiful in every single way. In that second I wouldn’t have changed a thing!
Smiling to myself, I thought (and maybe said) “Hi Zeke” and stroked my son’s ‘face’ running my finger over the photo, and dozed on and off for a while longer, although I’m not sure how long, and woke up to see Julie next to me along with Cheryl. Both of them affirmed exactly how beautiful and healthy he was, and said that he was waiting in the nursery for me if I was ready to come back up to my room.
Was I ready? Of course I was ready! Mum was in the room when I was wheeled back up there and Ryan was getting our boy from the nursery. Julie helped me get into a slightly upright position, and to get my gown off so I could have skin-to-skin contact. Then a good hour and a half after his birth I finally met him… a tiny little bundle in a plastic cot with wide grey eyes, a calm face and wonderfully warm and soft.
Ryan popped him on my chest and he snuggled there under a bunny rug, while I stroked his back, unable to do anything other than stare. Julie and mum left to give us some time to get to know our baby, but not before Julie took some of the most precious photos I will probably ever have.
Still unnamed, our little boy lay quietly, naked except his nappy while Ryan cried and I just stroked him some more in total awe. After a while, he rooted around and shuffled himself toward my breast and with a little help, latched on. I just stroked and cuddled him and Ryan as much as I could.
Sometime after this Ryan and I officially decided on his name Ezekiel David or Zeke for short, his proud great-grandfather says that Ezekiel means ‘God will strengthen’ and while I may not go to church, I 100% believe that someone was smiling down on us that day, and I am so very grateful that despite all the setbacks and trials, I was able to have my beautiful, perfectly healthy son, and I thank whoever they are every single day.
Saturday, August 23, 2014
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
Alexei's Home Water Birth
Alexei's Home Water Birth
It's been almost 6 weeks since our lovely 'Smallest' was born by candlelight in our loungeroom, and somehow my brain hasn't been nagging me with an entry to the story of Alexei's birth. I think it's partly that keeping up with three healthy, feisty, somewhat demanding boys has me so busy (and tired!) that there's no room in my mind for the creative task of writing, and partly that my most recent journey to birth was not the tale of intervention and learning that Zeke's was, nor the fight to birth how I wanted as I had with Liam, but rather a wonderfully normal, low key and relaxed experience, that as beautiful as it was, doesn't actually inspire my muse, who truth be told, has a flair for the dramatic. However, even with my muse on holiday, I very much want to share our story, especially while the memories are still fresh, so here goes...
Alexei's story begins before I was pregnant, about 6 or so months after Liam joined us. We were thrilled with our newest family member, not to mention still sleep deprived and shocked by how much work one little baby could add to our day, and the idea of another one was pretty well out of the question as far as we were concerned, we couldn't possibly imagine coping with a third child at this point! It seemed the universe or fate or karma or something had other ideas though, as late one evening, years before he would be desired or conceived, and we called Alexei to us. We were standing around on our front step, chatting with a couple who we're very close to, stalling (as is our habit, many late nights have been shared with the 4 of us) actually calling it a night and saying goodbye, when Ryan started in on his love for Children of Bodom, a Finnish metal group, who I can barely tolerate. It turns out the guitar Ryan used to play himself down the aisle at our wedding is the signature series of Alexi Laiho the lead guitarist and singer from Bodom, and is known as an Alexi - it's easily the most valuable guitar, emotionally as well as financially he owns. (Ryan had also recently been to a signing and had his Alexi signed by Alexi himself!) Anyway, with Ryan once more professing his love for Bodom, and specifically the guitarist, one of our friends jokingly asked "Well if you love him so much why don't you name a child after him?" we both laughed like crazy, no way were we going to have anymore children. But then, "You know if we did have another baby it would be a boy for sure!" (We rather wanted a girl, Murphy's Law and all that.) "Yeah, though Alexi John sounds pretty good doesn't it?" (John had been a close second for Liam's middle name, deciding that Liam James looked better on paper, so using it for a third son was a logical progression.) "Okay then, if we ever have another baby (not!) we'll call him Alexi John!" and we all fell around laughing at the ridiculous idea of Ryan and I having a third baby.
So, Alexei John, the baby we'd never have was named. (I thought, wrongly, that our inspiration for the name was spelled Alexei rather than Alexi, and we agreed during my pregnancy we preferred the ei ending.) However not long after that, the phrase "Alexei's Home Water Birth" sang its way into my mind, I could clearly envision birthing this purely dream child in the large corner spa in our bathroom, the home birth I'd wanted since my first birth, lifting him out of the water myself, with Ryan close by. Even when we moved house, away from the big bath, the idea of home birthing Alexei stayed in my heart. At first, I didn't think much of it, I only wanted a third child if it would be a girl, not this little boy I could so clearly picture, and Ryan felt the same, but still Alexei stayed near me, and gradually I felt as though there was room for a third baby no matter what gender. I've been spectacularly wrong as far as mother's intuition regarding my previous pregnancies, so when (some months after me) Ryan agreed there was a space in our family, I still thought we'd have a girl, and figured Alexei was a flight of fancy. We also agreed that we'd be having a homebirth this time, it just felt like the logical option, we'd always thought it was a good idea when everyone was healthy, and with a successful and easy VBAC under my belt, and not liking the hospital environment, or the restrictions put on me to labour their way rather than my own, it simply felt like the right choice for us.
I was hopeful but not expecting that like with Liam, we'd get lucky right away, and when we didn't, I began to chart, realising that breastfeeding Liam was throwing my cycle off, although even with being able to time things more accurately, nothing happened. Then we got notice to move house, the owners wanted to move in at the end of the lease, so packing and house hunting was on the agenda too. Fortunately we found a new house quickly, a house that the second I walked into to inspect, I could see us having a homebirth in, and realised I had never been able to picture it in our current house, and my body knew it too, as not long after we'd settled into the new house, I saw two pink lines, just a few days after Liam's second birthday - exactly the same timing as we'd seen a positive test with Liam, a few days after Zeke's second birthday. Suddenly the waiting made sense, I needed a space I felt comfortable birthing in, and I'd loved the age gap between Zeke and Liam so this baby had chosen the same again, everything just felt right, the same way imagining birthing Alexei at home did, though I still thought we might have a girl!
Although there'd been little soul searching or debating about having a baby at home as the choice immediately felt right to both of us, not long after knowing I was pregnant, Ryan and I spent ages talking about other matters. We decided we would not be telling anyone the exact due date, with the exception of care providers, talked about when we'd plan for hospital birth instead of home, and set about finding a midwife who would support a hospital birth, and not leave us feeling pressured into staying home, in circumstances which, although not life threatening or requiring immediate medical intervention, we would feel more comfortable birthing with in a hospital. It was also important to us that the midwife we hired was respectful and supportive of Ryan’s involvement and presence throughout the pregnancy and labour, and was aware that his presence was of utmost importance to me, as our previous IM from Liam’s birth made him feel as though he was an intruder for wanting to be involved with, and informed about his son’s birth. Our first midwife meeting was exactly that! She looked at the birth just as I did, ‘just’ a birth, and had the same non-emergency hospital birth situations in her mind, I actually doubted at first that she could be the midwife I wanted as I’d heard so many women needing to shop around and interview several before making a choice, however Ryan and I agreed quickly, after talking to a few others, that she was the one for us.
And so, with a midwife chosen, and beginning to break the news (but not the due date) to our family and friends, we were set... or so I thought. Job offers were scarce and the area we were living cost a lot of money, so we were struggling to make ends meet, suddenly it looked as though the home birth in front of the fireplace would not be an option. As we were beginning to explore our other moves, including breaking a lease early, Ryan got an offer from his friend, 3 hours away, to move to Ballarat for more work. I was uncertain at first, it would mean giving up my midwife, as the travel time was just too far for her to consider, especially if I began labour during peak hour, and was further than I’d ever lived from anyone I knew well. Still, living in Warburton was putting a hole in our pockets that grew every week, there were good schools up there, and the cost of living was cheaper, and we crossed our fingers and took the plunge.
We ended up moving when I was around 19 weeks along, which was not without its dramas and stresses, and shortly after I organised to meet a new midwife, Kusum, who would support a home birth at our new location. Well, I’ve spoken to some other mama friends who have had the same midwife present at their births and there seems to be this unanimous verdict of “You just fall in love with her” - it was no different for us, we knew immediately she was the midwife for us. Happy to follow our lead as far as the ‘vibes’ for this birth went, knowledgeable and respectful, and just as friendly toward our boisterous sons as she was toward Ryan and me. She brought a calm, centred and trusting energy into the house whenever she visited, and always had time to explain to Zeke and Liam what she was doing, letting them use her stethoscope, and feel the baby as well. I found myself looking forward to her visits, and wishing they were more frequent, although I and the baby were going great aside from some lingering nausea, just because she was so lovely! The boys were excited whenever she visited too, and quickly learnt to recognise her car, and would run around, gathering toys and things to show off to her when she arrived, which she always had time to see, she really was amazing! The rest of our birth team fell into place easily as well, we met a couple of midwives to be a secondary as there was one weekend near my due date that Kusum would be away, and found a lovely trainee doula, Nikkie to be present as an extra pair of hands and keep the boys out of the way if I wanted some quiet while I birthed, I would be her first home birth she attended, and I felt quite excited and privileged to have that honour. My beautiful doula, Julie who had been present at Zeke’s birth, and a wealth of wisdom for Liam’s (although she had been unavailable for the birth itself), was just 10 minutes away when we lived in Warburton, however when we moved, she agreed to make the drive for us, although given the length of the drive we knew she might miss the main event, still, I was confident she’d have plenty of warning, I’d had a long, slow warm up with Liam and plenty of time to let everyone know things were going to happen soon. With 4 such lovely women on this journey with me, I quickly began to anticipate not just meeting my new baby, but the birth itself, a first for me.
And so, with a midwife chosen, and beginning to break the news (but not the due date) to our family and friends, we were set... or so I thought. Job offers were scarce and the area we were living cost a lot of money, so we were struggling to make ends meet, suddenly it looked as though the home birth in front of the fireplace would not be an option. As we were beginning to explore our other moves, including breaking a lease early, Ryan got an offer from his friend, 3 hours away, to move to Ballarat for more work. I was uncertain at first, it would mean giving up my midwife, as the travel time was just too far for her to consider, especially if I began labour during peak hour, and was further than I’d ever lived from anyone I knew well. Still, living in Warburton was putting a hole in our pockets that grew every week, there were good schools up there, and the cost of living was cheaper, and we crossed our fingers and took the plunge.
We ended up moving when I was around 19 weeks along, which was not without its dramas and stresses, and shortly after I organised to meet a new midwife, Kusum, who would support a home birth at our new location. Well, I’ve spoken to some other mama friends who have had the same midwife present at their births and there seems to be this unanimous verdict of “You just fall in love with her” - it was no different for us, we knew immediately she was the midwife for us. Happy to follow our lead as far as the ‘vibes’ for this birth went, knowledgeable and respectful, and just as friendly toward our boisterous sons as she was toward Ryan and me. She brought a calm, centred and trusting energy into the house whenever she visited, and always had time to explain to Zeke and Liam what she was doing, letting them use her stethoscope, and feel the baby as well. I found myself looking forward to her visits, and wishing they were more frequent, although I and the baby were going great aside from some lingering nausea, just because she was so lovely! The boys were excited whenever she visited too, and quickly learnt to recognise her car, and would run around, gathering toys and things to show off to her when she arrived, which she always had time to see, she really was amazing! The rest of our birth team fell into place easily as well, we met a couple of midwives to be a secondary as there was one weekend near my due date that Kusum would be away, and found a lovely trainee doula, Nikkie to be present as an extra pair of hands and keep the boys out of the way if I wanted some quiet while I birthed, I would be her first home birth she attended, and I felt quite excited and privileged to have that honour. My beautiful doula, Julie who had been present at Zeke’s birth, and a wealth of wisdom for Liam’s (although she had been unavailable for the birth itself), was just 10 minutes away when we lived in Warburton, however when we moved, she agreed to make the drive for us, although given the length of the drive we knew she might miss the main event, still, I was confident she’d have plenty of warning, I’d had a long, slow warm up with Liam and plenty of time to let everyone know things were going to happen soon. With 4 such lovely women on this journey with me, I quickly began to anticipate not just meeting my new baby, but the birth itself, a first for me.
A couple of weeks after the move I organised an ultrasound, to confirm that there was only one baby (I’d have been utterly shocked if not), to check the placenta location, and - after much discussion - to find out whether it was a boy or a girl I was growing. Both Ryan and I still hoped, despite all the ‘signs’ suggesting it would be not only a boy, but specifically Alexei, that we’d find it was a girl. We had loved the surprise of waiting till baby day with Zeke, but Liam had other ideas, and found we’d preferred the bonding process of knowing who the baby was before their birth. I woke up the morning of the ultrasound, an intense calm came over me, and I knew at once that the baby was a boy, but even with the calm and knowing, the hours until the ultrasound felt like forever. I was not very surprised later that afternoon to discover that I was indeed carrying a boy, there was no doubt about it, like Liam, Alexei had everything clearly on display. I had only the briefest moment of disappointment for the daughter I wouldn’t be having, and was far more taken with the idea that this little boy I was carrying was the one I’d known for so long. When the lady doing the ultrasound confirmed the placenta was clear of the cervix, I asked where exactly it was, as I had a fair idea based on where I felt the kicks - what a boost to the ego and mama’s intuition to find out I was right, it was lying high up on the left side, just where the kicks were no more than featherlight nudges compared to the hefty booting on my right!
So we knew everything we needed to know, and a home birth was on the cards, my biggest issue was my ever wonky hips and pelvis causing pain and instability. Again regular physio visits became part of my routine, although I ended up using crutches to take the weight and strain off my hips for the last 3 or so weeks. Aside from my hips, it was a beautifully textbook pregnancy, even the nausea behaved to order, just lasting until I began to feel kicks so I would not worry about the baby (around 14 weeks), and not so bad as to be debilitating or a concern for my health. Some vicious heartburn kicked in around second trimester, but as my physiotherapist straightened my hips out, I found that eased too - I must have been pretty crooked and upsetting my digestive tract. All in all, I was just really enjoying the pregnancy, the new house and getting acquainted with a new area to live in, and meeting some lovely women when I joined the local Birthing and Babies group.
The next few months flew by in midwife visits, booking a back up at the local hospital, deciding I didn’t like them, keeping an eye on my iffy iron levels, not to mention parenting Zeke and Liam, and choosing a new primary school for Zeke for the following year. I was still not telling anyone my due date (the hospital had one, and Kusum had another - she used the Woods Method of counting, which I agreed with more as it fitted my previous pregnancy patterns), but I’d made it clear that I would not be hounded about when this baby would arrive, and found that keeping the date to myself - though no easy feat with pregnancy brain, I nearly slipped a few times! - was far preferable to everyone knowing exactly when I was 40 weeks.
I had a beautiful blessingway at 36 weeks, the last trip I was prepared to make to Melbourne until I’d given birth, and left the weekend feeling loved, pampered and totally empowered. I had the gathering out east, at a friend’s house so all my closest women friends could be there, and received a wonderfully meaningful collection of candles and beads for my birth space. With henna on my belly, and and filled to bursting with positive love and excitment for this baby, all I felt I needed to do was wait (other than collect more towels, plastic sheeting and tidy the house of course!)
There were a few special dates as 40 weeks neared, my grandmother and father-in-law’s birthday as well as my parent’s 30th anniversary on the 25th of November, my other grandmother and a good friend on the 27th, and Ryan’s grandmother on the 3rd of December, which was also the anniversary of the Eureka Rebellion, a big historical event in the area we now lived, which also has a good whack of family history along side. (Liam’s middle name comes from my 3x Great Grandfather James Beattie, who was present at the Rebellion.) Then there was The Day of The Doctor... yes, Dr Who! The 50th Anniversary episode was airing on the 24th of November, first early in the morning to coincide with the UK showing at the same time the first ever episode aired, and then again around 7.30 at night (yes, I’m a geek!) We figured we’d be asleep during the morning showing, but Murphy’s law would have me in hard labour during the evening showing, meaning we’d miss this episode, which we’d been waiting months for. So everyone had their own favourite dates for the baby to arrive, but Ryan and I ‘knew’ it would be the 24th!
Naturally, with the 24th in mind, on the 23rd Ryan had to go to Melbourne for the day to take care of a few things, leaving me with Zeke and Liam for the day. And what an completely miserable day it was! I had really hit a wall and was utterly exhausted, sore, and heavy and I spent the day short-tempered, snappy and generally not at all the peaceful and fun parent I try to be. In response they were grumpy, and very high need, fighting with each other and whining at me, it was just one moment of shouting and upset after another. To add to my discomfort, the baby was busy headbutting my cervix and sending the most painful electric jolts through my system, and huge Braxton Hicks, that didn’t feel functional in any way, just turned my midsection into an aching ball of concrete. I’d kept in touch with Ryan during the day, calling him frequently for brief doses of sanity, to whinge, and ask him how long until he’d be home. By the Woods method of counting, I was 39+6, but with my tendency to have late babies, I was in no way going to psyche myself up for having a baby any time soon, and I felt tired, achy, and was more or less convinced I’d be pregnant forever.
By about 5.30 I’d had it, I’d lost the plot at the boys again, and I rang Ryan to find out where he was. Traffic was awful, it was pouring with rain and roads were axle deep in water, he was going very slowly and wouldn’t be home for 2 hours at the earliest, and that was only if the traffic miraculously cleared. The second I hung up the phone I had a huge breakdown and burst into tears. After sobbing hysterically for a few minutes, I wrapped my arms around my belly and talked to the baby, telling him I was so, so ready for him, and to please come soon. I promised him that I understood it was his timing and not till he was ready, but I had a whole lovely long list of things I wanted to do, hold him, feed him, kiss him, sing to him, introduce him to his brothers, and did he please think it could be soon, because mama was losing her shit! I got myself together, and reheated the previous night’s dinner for Zeke and Liam, while ordering pizza for myself, to be delivered later after they were in bed. They were still ratty in response to my tiredness and I ended up cleaning much of the enchiladas off the floor. I packed Zeke off, and settled down to give Liam his bedtime boob, we’d been feeding regularly at the start of the pregnancy, but sore nipples, a growing belly and a toddler made entirely of elbows meant that we’d weaned to just this one nightly feed. I slowed down for a few minutes, and enjoyed what I felt would be my very last feed with Liam as my baby. It wasn’t until after that I realised, the normally strong Braxton Hicks, and vigorous kicking from the belly babe that came during breastfeeding hadn’t taken place this time, to allow me some a last, quiet moment with Liam.
My pizza arrived not long after the boys had gone to bed, and I decided it looked, smelled and otherwise appeared completely vile. I’d also ordered some chocolate dessert with it, and ate that instead. The chocolate did wonders for my mood, and I suddenly realised I had a whole group of lovely women holding my space from afar. I messaged them on Facebook around 8pm, asking for labour vibes, and after receiving much love and support, and talking through the day and what my body was doing, I realised I was probably on the way. Candles were being lit all over the east of Melbourne for me, and I could feel the support and strength they held for me.
I decided about then to message my doulas and midwives to let them know I was stirring, but felt as though I would still sleep that night, and need them in the morning. Julie rang almost immediately and checked in, she had the furthest to travel, and asked what I was doing and what I felt. I explained that the surges, which had returned after eating, were milder than the shitty BH I’d had earlier, and quite widely spaced, maybe 40 minutes or so apart. We talked for a while, and she helped me get my head in order. I also let her know that Ryan was still an hour or so away, and figured I would relax more once he was home, I kept repeating, “I’ll either go to sleep, or go into labour once he’s back” - but kept reverting to my mindset that I would have a longish, slow labour, although my words were suggesting what my brain was ignoring. I was keeping in touch with Kusum via text as well, letting her know that it was still slow and easy going. Both she and Julie agreed that there was definitely a baby on the way and decided to go to bed early, knowing there may be a call in the early hours of the morning. I resolved to get as much rest as I could too, figuring I’d need all my energy for the following day.
Despite my conscious deciding to rest and take it easy, I found my feet propelling me around the house, picking up the toys from the lounge to make room for the birth pool, locating my birth candles, clearing the dishes from the dining table and generally gathering all the bits and pieces I would need for a home birth into one space. I also spoke to Ryan and told him I was sending him a shopping list, I could do without him for another 20 minutes so that we didn’t have to do a run for labour supplies in the morning. I also asked him to buy a mud cake, I had wanted to make a birthday cake with Zeke and Liam in early labour, and envisioned doing that in the morning after breakfast, but again my words took over, making sure I’d have what I needed, even if my mind didn’t know it yet.
Meanwhile, the surges were growing closer together, and I began to need to concentrate through them. They were intense and strong, but not painful - the only bit that hurt was that darned head banging my cervix! I was still sure however that once I’d made my birth space ready, I’d be able to sleep, especially once Ryan got home, and was surprised to realise, after a half-hearted attempt at timing the waves on my phone, that I was beginning to get closer together, maybe 3 an hour, instead of one every 40 minutes. Ryan was surprised too, he knew right away something was up when he arrived home, “I got home, and Miranda was cleaning!” he’d later recount, I don’t like cleaning much anyway, never mind how I’d felt about it in the last few weeks of pregnancy, and certainly not with such determination. We spent an hour or so finishing readying the lounge, and beginning to set up the pool. I laid out clean pyjamas for me and picked an outfit for this soon to be baby to wear. I carefully arranged my candles and, with the blessingway beads, lay them out on the table too. I had intended to make a dreamcatcher, not liking the idea of a necklace, but the car had blown its fuel pump just days earlier, and craft supplies had been ignored in favour of spare parts. After Ryan had vacuumed and I had given lengthy instructions about where I wanted the pool, I asked him to set his camera up on the tripod aimed at the pool on interval shots, so that the whole process would be captured. I found my water bottle, heat packs and made up the bed with plastic sheeting under the fabric just in case. With the house satisfactory, we began to think about going to bed.
I realised then that the contractions were now properly strong, I had to go quiet and remember to breathe, I’d begun to moan through a few as well, particularly the one that caught me by surprise on the toilet. If you’ve read Zeke’s birth story, you’ll remember just how much I hate labouring on the loo! I told myself it was time for bed, but when I checked the timer on my phone, my hands took over, and by the time I was speaking to Kusum again, I realised there was a distinct pattern to them, 12-15 minutes, lasting 45+ seconds and I could feel how functional they were. Kusum listened patiently to my explanations, and gently said “I think I’ll come down, have you started to fill the pool?”
So much for bed! The acknowledgement that my midwife thought it was worth looking in switched my conciousness off and my primal brain on. I had no more time for fiddling with towels, bedding or candles, I was in proper labour! A few minutes later, I was kneeling in the lounge, resting my upper body on the couch and working my way through the waves with a heat pack on my back. Ryan dimmed the lights and lit the candles for me in between, but returned to place pressure on the heat pack. I could feel how strong each one was, and really began to moan through them. Kusum arrived during this, as well as our trainee doula, who I’d asked Ryan to call in case I woke the boys. We’d told our birth team that our front door was always open and to just let themselves in when they arrived instead of knocking, it was lovely to open my eyes after another contraction and see Kusum smiling and watching quietly.
I was still talking normally between contractions, asking about Liam (I’d heard him call out), and was reassured that Nikkie was with him, requesting heat my heat pack be re-warmed, and even noticing the oxygen tank Kusum brought in. I was curious about it as Ryan had plans to keg his home brew and needed to get a similar set up with carbon dioxide. I began to get a bit more serious about things, moaning and rocking my hips, and felt a need to hide my face in a pillow to shut out everything. My team responded so beautifully, going absolutely quiet when I did, and not at all disturbing me as I rested in between. After initially acknowledging both Kusum and Nikkie’s presence (Julie was on her way, the secondary midwife had turned out to be on call that night) my focus narrowed to Ryan only, and everything was relayed through him - but very little, I didn’t need anything other than to concentrate, and Kusum and Nikkie quietly went about their business.
I figured in my head I still had a long way to go, I was so conscious in every thought, I didn’t think I could feel so with it if I was really working on a baby yet. I’d totally spaced out with Liam, and expected the same this time. I’d been avoiding the pool as I was managing well where I was, and was also wary of slowing labour down, after 26 and 16 hour labours, I hoped strongly for less than 10 this time. However, the contractions tightened another notch, and after one really hurt, I could feel myself tensing and making it worse. I realised my fists were clenched, and my back tight, and thought about relaxing into the next one. I remembered my doula Julie’s birth story of her little son, “I led the way with my hands” how she’d opened and relaxed her hands to encourage the rest of her to relax. Those exact words came into my head, and I did just that, my arms and hands wide open and soft, my body followed suit, I found my hands deliberately shaking outwards, away from me, like I was trying to flick water off them, and realised I was pushing the tail end of the discomfort away from me as the contraction ended. This physical action to get rid of the pain really helped! A few more of these, and I could feel I was tensing again, Kusum was beside me as another big contraction surged through, watching and waiting until I’d emerged from my ‘face pillow’ that I’d been burrowing in. “Would you like to get in the pool now, Miranda?” she asked softly, and the whole time she didn’t touch me until I reached for her to help get up and turn to the pool. I hated being touched unexpectedly, or with light touches in both previous labours, and I’d asked my birth team not to touch me unless they let me know, and to use a confident hand, my wishes were being respected beautifully.
Kusum and Ryan helped me undress and climb into the pool - oh it was lovely! I like baths at the best of times, and this was bigger, the gorgeous squishy floor and enough room to spread in every direction. I was surprised how much of each contraction I could still feel, I had kind of expected instant relief, but at the same time it was so much better. We’d run it very hot, not knowing if it would be a while till I’d climbed in, and I asked for a cold washer on my neck, and Kusum encouraged me to keep drinking. I moved around the pool a lot more than I had on land, leaning on one side on my knees, then reclining against the other, and back to my knees again. The freedom of movement the warm water gave to get through each contraction as I needed was just bliss. Ryan tried counter pressure on my sacrum, which helped amazingly as well, he was back and forth a bit between each contraction, making the washer I was wiping my face and neck with cold again, I only wanted him in my space for the time being, so Kusum gave him a bucket of water to keep refreshing the washer in so he didn’t have to keep running around. Our request that he be my primary contact the whole time I was in labour was being upheld so nicely. Kusum never got between him and me, either verbally or physically, letting us stay tuned into each other at all times. I realised that Liam was awake, sitting on Nikkie’s lap and watching quietly, this had been our plan if either boy woke, they could be present as long as they or I were not upset, Zeke was still snoring away, despite my noise! I made an effort to smile at Liam a couple of times, but was far too focused on the job at hand for the smiles to feel convincing.
I turned away from the room again, facing only Ryan, and working through a few more, wiping my face with a washer in between, and leaning into him for a cuddle. After one contraction, he put both arms around me for a cuddle, rubbing my back, and I returned the favour, but because of the angle I was on, I could only reach his butt. Ryan obviously wasn’t thrilled about being groped in front of our birth team, and told me, “It’s ok, you don’t need to” and I grumbled in reply, “But I like your butt, it’s nice!” I did stop, but pretty sure I heard a smothered laugh from behind me.
My lips began to feel chapped, and I sent Ryan on another mission, to get my lip balm from my handbag. He got up, and headed for the hallway, where my bag usually hangs by the door, “No, the old one, the one I haven’t thrown out yet - it’s on the dining chair. It’s a pink tube, in the little zip pocket inside the bag.” I surprised myself how precise and descriptive I was, I had bought a new handbag just days earlier, and had not got around to emptying the old one, so it hung on the back of a dining chair, waiting to be organised. I figured with instructions like that, I still had ages to go, so I made myself more comfortable, layering on some balm, wetting my face washer again, and being picky about which drink I wanted, I had 3 on hand, a commercial sports drink (too sweet and sticky), a magnesium supplement Kusum had brought (tasted awful), and water (not as cold as I wanted, but it would do). I also asked for the fan to be set up to provide a breeze, and I turned myself around, facing toward it, sighing with relief as the cold breeze hit my face.
I worked on for a while longer, not wanting to talk anymore, but still feeling surprisingly alert in my head. Ryan kept the pressure up on my sacrum every time a contraction came, and the relief it provided was wonderful. Kusum just watched quietly, occasionally asking to check the heartbeat with the doppler, although there was not much worry about that, the baby was still kicking with vigour, you could see the movements through my belly, even at the height of a contraction. He was actively pushing against my fundus, helping to work his way down, which was bloody uncomfortable, the contractions I could handle, but being kicked midway through hurt and made me nauseous. In between, I’d comment “I don’t like this very much!” and ask him to stop pummeling me - to little effect, he knew what he needed to do!
A surge suddenly got stronger, and as always, Ryan leaned over to press on my hips, that hurt! The baby was moving, and I didn’t want my pelvis squashed shut. I couldn’t find words, and slapped his arm hard to make him stop, which he did at once. I bellowed and squirmed through the contraction, feeling the shift in weight and the baby’s position, but not knowing what had happened. Kneeling was bad too, and I rolled over with my legs out in front of me. I whimpered to Kusum how much that had hurt, and “What the hell are you doing down there, kid?” She knelt by the pool and asked to check the heart again, from the location she was able to tell me that he’d taken a dive into my pelvis, he was definitely moving down. “Oh, I don’t like that feeling very much!” I told her. That was about the strongest complaint I used the whole labour, that I didn’t like this bit very much.
I zoned out a little bit, Ryan holding me, and rocking my hips in the water during the contractions. I was still pretty alert in my head, but had shut out everyone else. Kusum must have heard the change in my voice before I felt it, and asked again to check the heart, I didn’t want to be touched, and said “No, no, I can feel him kicking it’s ok!” She respectfully moved back, trusting that I knew what was going on, and waited until I felt ready to have her check, even with the huge hormonal daze I was in, I so appreciated her respect and waiting for me and really valued how she listened to what I asked. I soon realised my voice felt different, really low in my throat and chest, and that the sound was carrying to lower down, not a push exactly, but a conscious relaxing and opening. I could both feel and ‘see’ the opening, not imagining, but so in tune with the sensation I could visualise the last bits of cervix moving away from the baby’s head. Sure enough, a couple of contractions later, I felt an unmistakable pressure and fullness, I commented “Oh, I remember this... I don’t like this bit very much!” and squirmed myself around to get comfortable with the new feeling of a baby in my vagina. I was surprised by the sensation, it didn’t feel like that long since labour had begun, and I still felt so alert. I thought to myself “I can’t be ready to push, I haven’t lost my shit yet!” I was anxious about pushing and it being too soon, I was still waiting for the labour to get unbearable and out of control for me, other than a couple of rougher contractions, I had felt very much on top of the sensations, and was not at all really in pain or upset by the labour.
My body over ruled my brain, and to my relief, I pushed instinctively. After the one deliberate push I had tried during Liam’s birth, which hadn’t felt right or effective, I was worried about needing to push this time, and was glad when I felt my body working on its own. I got louder as he moved down and began to complain about the stretching, every time I thought I was just about at my limit, I’d ask if his head was out yet - it wasn’t. His waters were coming first, like Liam’s had and stretching me before he was actually crowning. Kusum encouraged me to reach down and feel the bulging, explaining that having my own hand over the area might help me feel more in control and comfortable with the pain. Nope, crowning is just evil, but I could feel that soft, silky kind of plastic of his membranes, and exclaimed “Oh! You’re a caul baby just like your brother.” Suddenly he was so real, and right there, I realised I could talk to him, asking him to come slowly and let me get used to the stretching. Each contraction we’d work together, me chanting “fuck fuck fuck” (it was easier than panting!) and the baby working his way down. In between I’d speak to him, asking him to be gentle and come slowly as I didn’t want to tear.
He listened to every word I said, a few times at the peak of the pressure, I felt like I couldn’t handle it anymore and asked him to slow down and the sensations eased.”Okay baby boy, go easy on mama, I need a break for a minute,” I’d get a breather in, and tell him that I was ready to go, and again we’d start to work together, my body tightened in response, and he’d begin descending more. Kusum now stationed at the business end of the pool rather than beside me, assured me everything was going well, and that I was safe. When Kusum had been recommended to me by the midwife we had chosen at our old house, I was told “She’s French, she’s got a lovely accent, it will probably be more soothing than an Aussie accent in labour,” I had laughed at the time, as I can be pretty bogan in my speech, I didn’t think an Aussie accent would bother me, nor a French one be any more soothing. However it was lovely to hear Kusum gently reassure me “Everything is perfect Miranda, you’re safe, angel.” I was getting impatient for the stretching part to be over, it hurt like crazy, and didn’t feel as though I was getting anywhere, and I asked if breaking the waters would help, Kusum explained that it wouldn’t really improve matters by more than a minute at this stage, and as I began to push again before I had a chance to really process or reply, she leaned forward, placing her hand in the water. “No don’t touch me!” I snapped, thinking she had mistaken my question for consent, I didn’t want the waters broken, I wanted the baby to be born in the caul if he chose to, something I had expressed in my birth plan. She promised that she was not going to to touch me, and I realised right away that she was just keeping her hand near the baby’s head to help slow him, as the position I wanted to push in meant I kept both hands braced on the bottom of the pool and could not do it myself.
Eventually the stretching and burning feeling didn’t recede between contractions and I told him “Okay Alexei, you can come now.” I was considerably less quiet about this one, no chanting of profanities, just plain hollering. I was lifting my butt off the floor of the pool, pushing upward with my hands and feet to do this, was suddenly distracted by a searing pain in my calf muscle, exactly where night time cramps had bothered me through pregnancy. Kusum reassured me again, and I gasped out “No, no my leg is cramping!” She leaned over to hurriedly rub the cramp away for me, I had just been thinking I’d do anything to not feel the pain of crowning, but it certainly wasn’t that! I twitched her away fairly quickly as my body bore down again, I wasn’t talking to the baby anymore, but nothing was stopping him anyway.
As his head was finally born properly, and as I rested my head back on the side of the pool, Kusum called our attention to the fact I’d be able to see his head. I opened my eyes and looked down, pointing out to Ryan that he had hair, I could see it through the whitish yellow of his caul. Ryan was impressed too, we’ve both talked about that moment a lot since he was born, being able to actually see him, though he was still mostly inside me. I realised with a start what the head being out meant, and exclaimed with disappointment “Oh no, shoulders come next, I don’t like shoulders much!” I thought that this would have been a nice time to have had an epidural, but knew that I certainly wasn’t going anywhere, I didn’t want to go to hospital, and that it wouldn’t have been effective this late anyway. I thought that I’d kept that thought in my head, but Ryan tells me I spoke out loud, he had been leaning behind my head the whole time, holding onto my shoulders, and reassured me I was doing well (I do remember that bit), and Kusum apparently replied if I stood up he would have just about fallen out at that point.
Although I don’t recall being told that, I lost all interest in the idea of going anywhere, and began to push again, urging Kusum to “Pull!” as I hoped to get the unpleasant part of feeling his shoulders rotate and be born out of the way fast, I doubt she actually pulled, but she did begin to assist him in his move, “No, don’t pull!” I gasped, that felt worse, and she backed off immediately. It must have been less than a minute later and I could feel that long slithery woosh, complete with kicking legs (ouch by the way!), and he was out.
I opened my eyes and looked down, Kusum may have been speaking to me, but I really only had eyes to find my baby. She scooped him quickly out of the water toward me, barely touching him so I was the first person to properly hold him. I know he had his caul over his face, and that I lifted it off, but I felt very anxious to uncover his mouth and nose so he could breathe, and I barely remember removing it as my hands moved so instinctively and fast. I tried to bring him to my chest, and felt resistance, Kusums hands came into my vision, looping the cord over the front of his head, I realised he was wearing it like suspenders, up from his tummy, over one shoulder, around the back of his neck, over the other shoulder and down between his legs. Seconds later he was against my chest, I felt myself blowing gently on his face a couple of times until I saw a reactive grimace, and relaxed, he was breathing perfectly and hadn’t needed any help, but I needed to see that for myself.
We rested against the edge of the pool, Ryan leaning forward and kissing me, stroking the baby’s head, and telling me what a good job I’d done. The whole time, Liam had been sitting on Nikkie’s lap, quietly watching without a word. He would later comment “You shouted in the blue pool when Alexei was born!” I glanced down at his face several times, surprised by how unsurprised I was at this new person. I’d known him all along and instead of “So that’s who you are,” I felt recognition and familiarity falling into place, “Of course it’s you!” the dream baby I’d thought of years earlier was finally in my arms, exactly as I’d pictured him. I did hold him away from my body briefly, just to confirm he really was a he, but brought him back to my chest quickly. Kusum offered me some water, which I was very glad to have, and I asked her “He’s so small, is he okay?” I really forgot (again) how little a newborn can be, She confirmed he was fine, and I insisted “No, really, are you sure he’s okay? He’s so tiny!” again, I was reassured that he was perfect, he’d pinked beautifully and begun breathing nicely, and was resting quietly against my skin, occasionally watching with huge grey eyes, and sleeping in between.
Kusum began to top the pool up with hot water, just as Julie arrived, only 20 minutes after he’d been born. Kusum had called Julie to come when she’d decided it was time to come see me, and although Julie had left almost immediately, the bad weather had slowed her trip, as it had Ryan’s earlier. She said later, that as soon as she came in, she heard me talking, and thought it was still early, and in a minute I’d start the really hard work. Then she rounded the corner and saw a tiny arm nestled in my own, and she couldn’t believe it. We were both bummed that she’d missed the birth by ‘that’ much, but it was wonderful to have her there afterward, to share my joy with a woman who’s long been a mentor and role model of sorts for me as far as birth goes, and to have her immediately take her camera out and begin snapping photos. I asked Kusum what time he had been born - 3.05am - she asked what time the contractions had really started up, I said 10.30pm, a labour of 4 hours, 35 minutes, I was stunned! I don’t ‘do’ short labours, I go on all night, I lose my shit, and run everyone ragged, or so I thought! I couldn’t believe how quickly it had all taken place.
The oxytocin had kicked in and I was high as a kite and so in love with this tiny new person. Ryan was stoked too, we couldn’t stop smiling at each other, or the baby, who needed a name. “So babe, do you think he looks like an Alexei?” I asked him. The little boy in my arms, squeaked and opened his eyes to look right up at us when I said Alexei. We took that as a sign he liked the name. He really was the baby I’d imagined, our Alexei John. We were both amazed how he’d answered his name, he knew exactly who he was! (Not to mention a bit relieved, we didn’t have a second name on stand by.)
Liam meanwhile, had still been watching quietly, Nikkie filling him in, and lifting him up so he could see, I suddenly realised he was there, and wanted him to come meet his brother, so I called him over to the side of the pool, it felt wrong with only Liam, so I asked Ryan to wake Zeke too. They were both quietly impressed about their brother, and more interested in the pool, Liam was forever dipping his hands in and out of the water, watching the drips. I think he would have dearly liked to get in as well! Zeke was smiling for the most part, very impressed, but not saying much, Liam looked pretty tired as he’d only had a few hours sleep.
The water was still crystal clear, unlike Liam‘s birth I had not lost even a drop of blood, and other than some after pains I was feeling amazing. Alexei had a little feed in the pool too, his latch immediately perfect - and so comfortable after a toddler mouth full of teeth! After a while, with the added stimulation from nursing, I could feel the after pains building in intensity and the boys’ chatter began to annoy me, so Nikkie took them down to the back of the house to play. Kusum suggested I think about standing up and birthing the placenta, I had some panadiene to help take the edge off the cramps, and realised I was feeling pretty awful with it still in me, so it was time to make a move. I wanted to get out of the pool first, as with the extra water that had been added, the water came up very high on my chest and I was having difficulty keeping his face out of the water and letting him feed.
We had discussed 3rd stage during our meetings, and I was unsure if I wanted to have a natural 3rd stage as I had hated the physical sensation, and wanted it over fast after Liam’s birth, I was also hesitant about blood loss, as my iron was low. However, Kusum was confident that if we were not interrupted during the first few minutes after birth, Alexei allowed to feed as he wanted, and I was kept warm and not hurried to move, I would be fine, and I agreed to wait and see, but if I began to get uncomfortable, I wanted to switch to active management. As it turned out, physiological 3rd stage went perfectly. I stood up, and Kusum could tell by the movement in the cord that the placenta was loose, so still standing in the pool, she got an empty ice cream container ready to catch, it still felt awful, but the relief when it was out was instant. We shuffled a few steps to the couch, where I sat on a few towels and had some absolutely deliciously warm ones wrapped around my shoulders. I had no idea how or why they were so warm, but I didn’t care, it felt amazing. A couple of days later, I discovered folded towels in my oven, and realised where the supply was coming from, I hadn’t even noticed anyone in and out of my kitchen!
The boys had wandered back in just in time to see the placenta come out, and Zeke looked quite shocked by it, I pointed it out to Ryan and Nikkie, who explained what was going on. We had read the book Hello Baby a number of times, so they understood what it was, and once we were on the couch, both Zeke and Liam were very interested in the cord and the placenta, and how it was still attached to Alexei’s belly. Julie set to work on my kitchen, which was looking worse than usual after being so exhausted the last few days, and Kusum watched, took notes and helped clean up.
Alexei and I cuddled on the couch for a while, the placenta sitting in its tub next to us. He began to feed again, gulping strongly, his cheeks hollowing purposefully and swallowing loudly. While he had his feed, Kusum tied off the cord with extra yarn from my blessingway binding, and Ryan cut it. It bled slightly, although it had looked perfectly white and limp at the time. Once we were separate from the placenta, Kusum checked it out, it was perfectly whole, healthy, quite large, and heart shaped! After a very long feed, it was time for Ryan’s first cuddle, and as he had with the bigger boys, he took his shirt off so Alexei could lay against his skin. He kept moving to the other couch from where I was though, which bugged me, I was not ready for my baby to be quite so far away from me just yet - all of 5 feet!
While Ryan cuddled Alexei, I began to think of a hot bath. Julie ran it for me, and I hobbled down the hallway with Kusum to check if I had any tears. I did, quite a decent labial one again, though my perineum was intact. I asked anxiously if it needed to be stitched, and Kusum explained that this one was big enough to require it, but with good care and careful movement the way the two edges sat, it should heal nicely on its own. I opted for good care - I was far more scared of stitches than the tear itself! With manuka honey and Julie’s herbal baths for healing, the tear healed quickly and as though it had never torn to begin with. I soaked in a bath, that as I requested was “volcanic hot”, Julie asked if I wanted Alexei in with me, but I felt the water was too hot, and I wanted to give Ryan some time with him.
By the time I hopped out, my kitchen looked like new, and a hose was set up, beginning to syphon the water out of the pool and straight to the storm water drain - conveniently on our front lawn. Julie and Kusum helped me get my pyjama pants on and Alexei came back for yet more milk, he was also weighed 3.25kg, about 7 pound 2 ounces, my middleweight baby, a little smaller than Zeke, a little bigger than Liam. Nikkie took the placenta home to dehydrate and turn into capsules for me, which turned out to be an amazing benefit, my milk came in sooner, my mood was more stable, and my bleeding was less. I wish I had known about placenta pills earlier! The boys were playing in and out of the lounge, coming back to check on their brother and to ask repeatedly what his name was. Liam called him “Alexei-John” for the first week, running the names together beautifully. We laughed when we noticed the time - we could have been watching the early airing of Dr Who right then! The Day of the Doctor indeed, and not a doctor in sight for this birth. I was thrilled!
So we knew everything we needed to know, and a home birth was on the cards, my biggest issue was my ever wonky hips and pelvis causing pain and instability. Again regular physio visits became part of my routine, although I ended up using crutches to take the weight and strain off my hips for the last 3 or so weeks. Aside from my hips, it was a beautifully textbook pregnancy, even the nausea behaved to order, just lasting until I began to feel kicks so I would not worry about the baby (around 14 weeks), and not so bad as to be debilitating or a concern for my health. Some vicious heartburn kicked in around second trimester, but as my physiotherapist straightened my hips out, I found that eased too - I must have been pretty crooked and upsetting my digestive tract. All in all, I was just really enjoying the pregnancy, the new house and getting acquainted with a new area to live in, and meeting some lovely women when I joined the local Birthing and Babies group.
The next few months flew by in midwife visits, booking a back up at the local hospital, deciding I didn’t like them, keeping an eye on my iffy iron levels, not to mention parenting Zeke and Liam, and choosing a new primary school for Zeke for the following year. I was still not telling anyone my due date (the hospital had one, and Kusum had another - she used the Woods Method of counting, which I agreed with more as it fitted my previous pregnancy patterns), but I’d made it clear that I would not be hounded about when this baby would arrive, and found that keeping the date to myself - though no easy feat with pregnancy brain, I nearly slipped a few times! - was far preferable to everyone knowing exactly when I was 40 weeks.
I had a beautiful blessingway at 36 weeks, the last trip I was prepared to make to Melbourne until I’d given birth, and left the weekend feeling loved, pampered and totally empowered. I had the gathering out east, at a friend’s house so all my closest women friends could be there, and received a wonderfully meaningful collection of candles and beads for my birth space. With henna on my belly, and and filled to bursting with positive love and excitment for this baby, all I felt I needed to do was wait (other than collect more towels, plastic sheeting and tidy the house of course!)
There were a few special dates as 40 weeks neared, my grandmother and father-in-law’s birthday as well as my parent’s 30th anniversary on the 25th of November, my other grandmother and a good friend on the 27th, and Ryan’s grandmother on the 3rd of December, which was also the anniversary of the Eureka Rebellion, a big historical event in the area we now lived, which also has a good whack of family history along side. (Liam’s middle name comes from my 3x Great Grandfather James Beattie, who was present at the Rebellion.) Then there was The Day of The Doctor... yes, Dr Who! The 50th Anniversary episode was airing on the 24th of November, first early in the morning to coincide with the UK showing at the same time the first ever episode aired, and then again around 7.30 at night (yes, I’m a geek!) We figured we’d be asleep during the morning showing, but Murphy’s law would have me in hard labour during the evening showing, meaning we’d miss this episode, which we’d been waiting months for. So everyone had their own favourite dates for the baby to arrive, but Ryan and I ‘knew’ it would be the 24th!
Naturally, with the 24th in mind, on the 23rd Ryan had to go to Melbourne for the day to take care of a few things, leaving me with Zeke and Liam for the day. And what an completely miserable day it was! I had really hit a wall and was utterly exhausted, sore, and heavy and I spent the day short-tempered, snappy and generally not at all the peaceful and fun parent I try to be. In response they were grumpy, and very high need, fighting with each other and whining at me, it was just one moment of shouting and upset after another. To add to my discomfort, the baby was busy headbutting my cervix and sending the most painful electric jolts through my system, and huge Braxton Hicks, that didn’t feel functional in any way, just turned my midsection into an aching ball of concrete. I’d kept in touch with Ryan during the day, calling him frequently for brief doses of sanity, to whinge, and ask him how long until he’d be home. By the Woods method of counting, I was 39+6, but with my tendency to have late babies, I was in no way going to psyche myself up for having a baby any time soon, and I felt tired, achy, and was more or less convinced I’d be pregnant forever.
By about 5.30 I’d had it, I’d lost the plot at the boys again, and I rang Ryan to find out where he was. Traffic was awful, it was pouring with rain and roads were axle deep in water, he was going very slowly and wouldn’t be home for 2 hours at the earliest, and that was only if the traffic miraculously cleared. The second I hung up the phone I had a huge breakdown and burst into tears. After sobbing hysterically for a few minutes, I wrapped my arms around my belly and talked to the baby, telling him I was so, so ready for him, and to please come soon. I promised him that I understood it was his timing and not till he was ready, but I had a whole lovely long list of things I wanted to do, hold him, feed him, kiss him, sing to him, introduce him to his brothers, and did he please think it could be soon, because mama was losing her shit! I got myself together, and reheated the previous night’s dinner for Zeke and Liam, while ordering pizza for myself, to be delivered later after they were in bed. They were still ratty in response to my tiredness and I ended up cleaning much of the enchiladas off the floor. I packed Zeke off, and settled down to give Liam his bedtime boob, we’d been feeding regularly at the start of the pregnancy, but sore nipples, a growing belly and a toddler made entirely of elbows meant that we’d weaned to just this one nightly feed. I slowed down for a few minutes, and enjoyed what I felt would be my very last feed with Liam as my baby. It wasn’t until after that I realised, the normally strong Braxton Hicks, and vigorous kicking from the belly babe that came during breastfeeding hadn’t taken place this time, to allow me some a last, quiet moment with Liam.
My pizza arrived not long after the boys had gone to bed, and I decided it looked, smelled and otherwise appeared completely vile. I’d also ordered some chocolate dessert with it, and ate that instead. The chocolate did wonders for my mood, and I suddenly realised I had a whole group of lovely women holding my space from afar. I messaged them on Facebook around 8pm, asking for labour vibes, and after receiving much love and support, and talking through the day and what my body was doing, I realised I was probably on the way. Candles were being lit all over the east of Melbourne for me, and I could feel the support and strength they held for me.
I decided about then to message my doulas and midwives to let them know I was stirring, but felt as though I would still sleep that night, and need them in the morning. Julie rang almost immediately and checked in, she had the furthest to travel, and asked what I was doing and what I felt. I explained that the surges, which had returned after eating, were milder than the shitty BH I’d had earlier, and quite widely spaced, maybe 40 minutes or so apart. We talked for a while, and she helped me get my head in order. I also let her know that Ryan was still an hour or so away, and figured I would relax more once he was home, I kept repeating, “I’ll either go to sleep, or go into labour once he’s back” - but kept reverting to my mindset that I would have a longish, slow labour, although my words were suggesting what my brain was ignoring. I was keeping in touch with Kusum via text as well, letting her know that it was still slow and easy going. Both she and Julie agreed that there was definitely a baby on the way and decided to go to bed early, knowing there may be a call in the early hours of the morning. I resolved to get as much rest as I could too, figuring I’d need all my energy for the following day.
Despite my conscious deciding to rest and take it easy, I found my feet propelling me around the house, picking up the toys from the lounge to make room for the birth pool, locating my birth candles, clearing the dishes from the dining table and generally gathering all the bits and pieces I would need for a home birth into one space. I also spoke to Ryan and told him I was sending him a shopping list, I could do without him for another 20 minutes so that we didn’t have to do a run for labour supplies in the morning. I also asked him to buy a mud cake, I had wanted to make a birthday cake with Zeke and Liam in early labour, and envisioned doing that in the morning after breakfast, but again my words took over, making sure I’d have what I needed, even if my mind didn’t know it yet.
Meanwhile, the surges were growing closer together, and I began to need to concentrate through them. They were intense and strong, but not painful - the only bit that hurt was that darned head banging my cervix! I was still sure however that once I’d made my birth space ready, I’d be able to sleep, especially once Ryan got home, and was surprised to realise, after a half-hearted attempt at timing the waves on my phone, that I was beginning to get closer together, maybe 3 an hour, instead of one every 40 minutes. Ryan was surprised too, he knew right away something was up when he arrived home, “I got home, and Miranda was cleaning!” he’d later recount, I don’t like cleaning much anyway, never mind how I’d felt about it in the last few weeks of pregnancy, and certainly not with such determination. We spent an hour or so finishing readying the lounge, and beginning to set up the pool. I laid out clean pyjamas for me and picked an outfit for this soon to be baby to wear. I carefully arranged my candles and, with the blessingway beads, lay them out on the table too. I had intended to make a dreamcatcher, not liking the idea of a necklace, but the car had blown its fuel pump just days earlier, and craft supplies had been ignored in favour of spare parts. After Ryan had vacuumed and I had given lengthy instructions about where I wanted the pool, I asked him to set his camera up on the tripod aimed at the pool on interval shots, so that the whole process would be captured. I found my water bottle, heat packs and made up the bed with plastic sheeting under the fabric just in case. With the house satisfactory, we began to think about going to bed.
I realised then that the contractions were now properly strong, I had to go quiet and remember to breathe, I’d begun to moan through a few as well, particularly the one that caught me by surprise on the toilet. If you’ve read Zeke’s birth story, you’ll remember just how much I hate labouring on the loo! I told myself it was time for bed, but when I checked the timer on my phone, my hands took over, and by the time I was speaking to Kusum again, I realised there was a distinct pattern to them, 12-15 minutes, lasting 45+ seconds and I could feel how functional they were. Kusum listened patiently to my explanations, and gently said “I think I’ll come down, have you started to fill the pool?”
So much for bed! The acknowledgement that my midwife thought it was worth looking in switched my conciousness off and my primal brain on. I had no more time for fiddling with towels, bedding or candles, I was in proper labour! A few minutes later, I was kneeling in the lounge, resting my upper body on the couch and working my way through the waves with a heat pack on my back. Ryan dimmed the lights and lit the candles for me in between, but returned to place pressure on the heat pack. I could feel how strong each one was, and really began to moan through them. Kusum arrived during this, as well as our trainee doula, who I’d asked Ryan to call in case I woke the boys. We’d told our birth team that our front door was always open and to just let themselves in when they arrived instead of knocking, it was lovely to open my eyes after another contraction and see Kusum smiling and watching quietly.
I was still talking normally between contractions, asking about Liam (I’d heard him call out), and was reassured that Nikkie was with him, requesting heat my heat pack be re-warmed, and even noticing the oxygen tank Kusum brought in. I was curious about it as Ryan had plans to keg his home brew and needed to get a similar set up with carbon dioxide. I began to get a bit more serious about things, moaning and rocking my hips, and felt a need to hide my face in a pillow to shut out everything. My team responded so beautifully, going absolutely quiet when I did, and not at all disturbing me as I rested in between. After initially acknowledging both Kusum and Nikkie’s presence (Julie was on her way, the secondary midwife had turned out to be on call that night) my focus narrowed to Ryan only, and everything was relayed through him - but very little, I didn’t need anything other than to concentrate, and Kusum and Nikkie quietly went about their business.
I figured in my head I still had a long way to go, I was so conscious in every thought, I didn’t think I could feel so with it if I was really working on a baby yet. I’d totally spaced out with Liam, and expected the same this time. I’d been avoiding the pool as I was managing well where I was, and was also wary of slowing labour down, after 26 and 16 hour labours, I hoped strongly for less than 10 this time. However, the contractions tightened another notch, and after one really hurt, I could feel myself tensing and making it worse. I realised my fists were clenched, and my back tight, and thought about relaxing into the next one. I remembered my doula Julie’s birth story of her little son, “I led the way with my hands” how she’d opened and relaxed her hands to encourage the rest of her to relax. Those exact words came into my head, and I did just that, my arms and hands wide open and soft, my body followed suit, I found my hands deliberately shaking outwards, away from me, like I was trying to flick water off them, and realised I was pushing the tail end of the discomfort away from me as the contraction ended. This physical action to get rid of the pain really helped! A few more of these, and I could feel I was tensing again, Kusum was beside me as another big contraction surged through, watching and waiting until I’d emerged from my ‘face pillow’ that I’d been burrowing in. “Would you like to get in the pool now, Miranda?” she asked softly, and the whole time she didn’t touch me until I reached for her to help get up and turn to the pool. I hated being touched unexpectedly, or with light touches in both previous labours, and I’d asked my birth team not to touch me unless they let me know, and to use a confident hand, my wishes were being respected beautifully.
Kusum and Ryan helped me undress and climb into the pool - oh it was lovely! I like baths at the best of times, and this was bigger, the gorgeous squishy floor and enough room to spread in every direction. I was surprised how much of each contraction I could still feel, I had kind of expected instant relief, but at the same time it was so much better. We’d run it very hot, not knowing if it would be a while till I’d climbed in, and I asked for a cold washer on my neck, and Kusum encouraged me to keep drinking. I moved around the pool a lot more than I had on land, leaning on one side on my knees, then reclining against the other, and back to my knees again. The freedom of movement the warm water gave to get through each contraction as I needed was just bliss. Ryan tried counter pressure on my sacrum, which helped amazingly as well, he was back and forth a bit between each contraction, making the washer I was wiping my face and neck with cold again, I only wanted him in my space for the time being, so Kusum gave him a bucket of water to keep refreshing the washer in so he didn’t have to keep running around. Our request that he be my primary contact the whole time I was in labour was being upheld so nicely. Kusum never got between him and me, either verbally or physically, letting us stay tuned into each other at all times. I realised that Liam was awake, sitting on Nikkie’s lap and watching quietly, this had been our plan if either boy woke, they could be present as long as they or I were not upset, Zeke was still snoring away, despite my noise! I made an effort to smile at Liam a couple of times, but was far too focused on the job at hand for the smiles to feel convincing.
I turned away from the room again, facing only Ryan, and working through a few more, wiping my face with a washer in between, and leaning into him for a cuddle. After one contraction, he put both arms around me for a cuddle, rubbing my back, and I returned the favour, but because of the angle I was on, I could only reach his butt. Ryan obviously wasn’t thrilled about being groped in front of our birth team, and told me, “It’s ok, you don’t need to” and I grumbled in reply, “But I like your butt, it’s nice!” I did stop, but pretty sure I heard a smothered laugh from behind me.
My lips began to feel chapped, and I sent Ryan on another mission, to get my lip balm from my handbag. He got up, and headed for the hallway, where my bag usually hangs by the door, “No, the old one, the one I haven’t thrown out yet - it’s on the dining chair. It’s a pink tube, in the little zip pocket inside the bag.” I surprised myself how precise and descriptive I was, I had bought a new handbag just days earlier, and had not got around to emptying the old one, so it hung on the back of a dining chair, waiting to be organised. I figured with instructions like that, I still had ages to go, so I made myself more comfortable, layering on some balm, wetting my face washer again, and being picky about which drink I wanted, I had 3 on hand, a commercial sports drink (too sweet and sticky), a magnesium supplement Kusum had brought (tasted awful), and water (not as cold as I wanted, but it would do). I also asked for the fan to be set up to provide a breeze, and I turned myself around, facing toward it, sighing with relief as the cold breeze hit my face.
I worked on for a while longer, not wanting to talk anymore, but still feeling surprisingly alert in my head. Ryan kept the pressure up on my sacrum every time a contraction came, and the relief it provided was wonderful. Kusum just watched quietly, occasionally asking to check the heartbeat with the doppler, although there was not much worry about that, the baby was still kicking with vigour, you could see the movements through my belly, even at the height of a contraction. He was actively pushing against my fundus, helping to work his way down, which was bloody uncomfortable, the contractions I could handle, but being kicked midway through hurt and made me nauseous. In between, I’d comment “I don’t like this very much!” and ask him to stop pummeling me - to little effect, he knew what he needed to do!
A surge suddenly got stronger, and as always, Ryan leaned over to press on my hips, that hurt! The baby was moving, and I didn’t want my pelvis squashed shut. I couldn’t find words, and slapped his arm hard to make him stop, which he did at once. I bellowed and squirmed through the contraction, feeling the shift in weight and the baby’s position, but not knowing what had happened. Kneeling was bad too, and I rolled over with my legs out in front of me. I whimpered to Kusum how much that had hurt, and “What the hell are you doing down there, kid?” She knelt by the pool and asked to check the heart again, from the location she was able to tell me that he’d taken a dive into my pelvis, he was definitely moving down. “Oh, I don’t like that feeling very much!” I told her. That was about the strongest complaint I used the whole labour, that I didn’t like this bit very much.
I zoned out a little bit, Ryan holding me, and rocking my hips in the water during the contractions. I was still pretty alert in my head, but had shut out everyone else. Kusum must have heard the change in my voice before I felt it, and asked again to check the heart, I didn’t want to be touched, and said “No, no, I can feel him kicking it’s ok!” She respectfully moved back, trusting that I knew what was going on, and waited until I felt ready to have her check, even with the huge hormonal daze I was in, I so appreciated her respect and waiting for me and really valued how she listened to what I asked. I soon realised my voice felt different, really low in my throat and chest, and that the sound was carrying to lower down, not a push exactly, but a conscious relaxing and opening. I could both feel and ‘see’ the opening, not imagining, but so in tune with the sensation I could visualise the last bits of cervix moving away from the baby’s head. Sure enough, a couple of contractions later, I felt an unmistakable pressure and fullness, I commented “Oh, I remember this... I don’t like this bit very much!” and squirmed myself around to get comfortable with the new feeling of a baby in my vagina. I was surprised by the sensation, it didn’t feel like that long since labour had begun, and I still felt so alert. I thought to myself “I can’t be ready to push, I haven’t lost my shit yet!” I was anxious about pushing and it being too soon, I was still waiting for the labour to get unbearable and out of control for me, other than a couple of rougher contractions, I had felt very much on top of the sensations, and was not at all really in pain or upset by the labour.
My body over ruled my brain, and to my relief, I pushed instinctively. After the one deliberate push I had tried during Liam’s birth, which hadn’t felt right or effective, I was worried about needing to push this time, and was glad when I felt my body working on its own. I got louder as he moved down and began to complain about the stretching, every time I thought I was just about at my limit, I’d ask if his head was out yet - it wasn’t. His waters were coming first, like Liam’s had and stretching me before he was actually crowning. Kusum encouraged me to reach down and feel the bulging, explaining that having my own hand over the area might help me feel more in control and comfortable with the pain. Nope, crowning is just evil, but I could feel that soft, silky kind of plastic of his membranes, and exclaimed “Oh! You’re a caul baby just like your brother.” Suddenly he was so real, and right there, I realised I could talk to him, asking him to come slowly and let me get used to the stretching. Each contraction we’d work together, me chanting “fuck fuck fuck” (it was easier than panting!) and the baby working his way down. In between I’d speak to him, asking him to be gentle and come slowly as I didn’t want to tear.
He listened to every word I said, a few times at the peak of the pressure, I felt like I couldn’t handle it anymore and asked him to slow down and the sensations eased.”Okay baby boy, go easy on mama, I need a break for a minute,” I’d get a breather in, and tell him that I was ready to go, and again we’d start to work together, my body tightened in response, and he’d begin descending more. Kusum now stationed at the business end of the pool rather than beside me, assured me everything was going well, and that I was safe. When Kusum had been recommended to me by the midwife we had chosen at our old house, I was told “She’s French, she’s got a lovely accent, it will probably be more soothing than an Aussie accent in labour,” I had laughed at the time, as I can be pretty bogan in my speech, I didn’t think an Aussie accent would bother me, nor a French one be any more soothing. However it was lovely to hear Kusum gently reassure me “Everything is perfect Miranda, you’re safe, angel.” I was getting impatient for the stretching part to be over, it hurt like crazy, and didn’t feel as though I was getting anywhere, and I asked if breaking the waters would help, Kusum explained that it wouldn’t really improve matters by more than a minute at this stage, and as I began to push again before I had a chance to really process or reply, she leaned forward, placing her hand in the water. “No don’t touch me!” I snapped, thinking she had mistaken my question for consent, I didn’t want the waters broken, I wanted the baby to be born in the caul if he chose to, something I had expressed in my birth plan. She promised that she was not going to to touch me, and I realised right away that she was just keeping her hand near the baby’s head to help slow him, as the position I wanted to push in meant I kept both hands braced on the bottom of the pool and could not do it myself.
Eventually the stretching and burning feeling didn’t recede between contractions and I told him “Okay Alexei, you can come now.” I was considerably less quiet about this one, no chanting of profanities, just plain hollering. I was lifting my butt off the floor of the pool, pushing upward with my hands and feet to do this, was suddenly distracted by a searing pain in my calf muscle, exactly where night time cramps had bothered me through pregnancy. Kusum reassured me again, and I gasped out “No, no my leg is cramping!” She leaned over to hurriedly rub the cramp away for me, I had just been thinking I’d do anything to not feel the pain of crowning, but it certainly wasn’t that! I twitched her away fairly quickly as my body bore down again, I wasn’t talking to the baby anymore, but nothing was stopping him anyway.
As his head was finally born properly, and as I rested my head back on the side of the pool, Kusum called our attention to the fact I’d be able to see his head. I opened my eyes and looked down, pointing out to Ryan that he had hair, I could see it through the whitish yellow of his caul. Ryan was impressed too, we’ve both talked about that moment a lot since he was born, being able to actually see him, though he was still mostly inside me. I realised with a start what the head being out meant, and exclaimed with disappointment “Oh no, shoulders come next, I don’t like shoulders much!” I thought that this would have been a nice time to have had an epidural, but knew that I certainly wasn’t going anywhere, I didn’t want to go to hospital, and that it wouldn’t have been effective this late anyway. I thought that I’d kept that thought in my head, but Ryan tells me I spoke out loud, he had been leaning behind my head the whole time, holding onto my shoulders, and reassured me I was doing well (I do remember that bit), and Kusum apparently replied if I stood up he would have just about fallen out at that point.
Although I don’t recall being told that, I lost all interest in the idea of going anywhere, and began to push again, urging Kusum to “Pull!” as I hoped to get the unpleasant part of feeling his shoulders rotate and be born out of the way fast, I doubt she actually pulled, but she did begin to assist him in his move, “No, don’t pull!” I gasped, that felt worse, and she backed off immediately. It must have been less than a minute later and I could feel that long slithery woosh, complete with kicking legs (ouch by the way!), and he was out.
I opened my eyes and looked down, Kusum may have been speaking to me, but I really only had eyes to find my baby. She scooped him quickly out of the water toward me, barely touching him so I was the first person to properly hold him. I know he had his caul over his face, and that I lifted it off, but I felt very anxious to uncover his mouth and nose so he could breathe, and I barely remember removing it as my hands moved so instinctively and fast. I tried to bring him to my chest, and felt resistance, Kusums hands came into my vision, looping the cord over the front of his head, I realised he was wearing it like suspenders, up from his tummy, over one shoulder, around the back of his neck, over the other shoulder and down between his legs. Seconds later he was against my chest, I felt myself blowing gently on his face a couple of times until I saw a reactive grimace, and relaxed, he was breathing perfectly and hadn’t needed any help, but I needed to see that for myself.
We rested against the edge of the pool, Ryan leaning forward and kissing me, stroking the baby’s head, and telling me what a good job I’d done. The whole time, Liam had been sitting on Nikkie’s lap, quietly watching without a word. He would later comment “You shouted in the blue pool when Alexei was born!” I glanced down at his face several times, surprised by how unsurprised I was at this new person. I’d known him all along and instead of “So that’s who you are,” I felt recognition and familiarity falling into place, “Of course it’s you!” the dream baby I’d thought of years earlier was finally in my arms, exactly as I’d pictured him. I did hold him away from my body briefly, just to confirm he really was a he, but brought him back to my chest quickly. Kusum offered me some water, which I was very glad to have, and I asked her “He’s so small, is he okay?” I really forgot (again) how little a newborn can be, She confirmed he was fine, and I insisted “No, really, are you sure he’s okay? He’s so tiny!” again, I was reassured that he was perfect, he’d pinked beautifully and begun breathing nicely, and was resting quietly against my skin, occasionally watching with huge grey eyes, and sleeping in between.
Kusum began to top the pool up with hot water, just as Julie arrived, only 20 minutes after he’d been born. Kusum had called Julie to come when she’d decided it was time to come see me, and although Julie had left almost immediately, the bad weather had slowed her trip, as it had Ryan’s earlier. She said later, that as soon as she came in, she heard me talking, and thought it was still early, and in a minute I’d start the really hard work. Then she rounded the corner and saw a tiny arm nestled in my own, and she couldn’t believe it. We were both bummed that she’d missed the birth by ‘that’ much, but it was wonderful to have her there afterward, to share my joy with a woman who’s long been a mentor and role model of sorts for me as far as birth goes, and to have her immediately take her camera out and begin snapping photos. I asked Kusum what time he had been born - 3.05am - she asked what time the contractions had really started up, I said 10.30pm, a labour of 4 hours, 35 minutes, I was stunned! I don’t ‘do’ short labours, I go on all night, I lose my shit, and run everyone ragged, or so I thought! I couldn’t believe how quickly it had all taken place.
The oxytocin had kicked in and I was high as a kite and so in love with this tiny new person. Ryan was stoked too, we couldn’t stop smiling at each other, or the baby, who needed a name. “So babe, do you think he looks like an Alexei?” I asked him. The little boy in my arms, squeaked and opened his eyes to look right up at us when I said Alexei. We took that as a sign he liked the name. He really was the baby I’d imagined, our Alexei John. We were both amazed how he’d answered his name, he knew exactly who he was! (Not to mention a bit relieved, we didn’t have a second name on stand by.)
Liam meanwhile, had still been watching quietly, Nikkie filling him in, and lifting him up so he could see, I suddenly realised he was there, and wanted him to come meet his brother, so I called him over to the side of the pool, it felt wrong with only Liam, so I asked Ryan to wake Zeke too. They were both quietly impressed about their brother, and more interested in the pool, Liam was forever dipping his hands in and out of the water, watching the drips. I think he would have dearly liked to get in as well! Zeke was smiling for the most part, very impressed, but not saying much, Liam looked pretty tired as he’d only had a few hours sleep.
The water was still crystal clear, unlike Liam‘s birth I had not lost even a drop of blood, and other than some after pains I was feeling amazing. Alexei had a little feed in the pool too, his latch immediately perfect - and so comfortable after a toddler mouth full of teeth! After a while, with the added stimulation from nursing, I could feel the after pains building in intensity and the boys’ chatter began to annoy me, so Nikkie took them down to the back of the house to play. Kusum suggested I think about standing up and birthing the placenta, I had some panadiene to help take the edge off the cramps, and realised I was feeling pretty awful with it still in me, so it was time to make a move. I wanted to get out of the pool first, as with the extra water that had been added, the water came up very high on my chest and I was having difficulty keeping his face out of the water and letting him feed.
We had discussed 3rd stage during our meetings, and I was unsure if I wanted to have a natural 3rd stage as I had hated the physical sensation, and wanted it over fast after Liam’s birth, I was also hesitant about blood loss, as my iron was low. However, Kusum was confident that if we were not interrupted during the first few minutes after birth, Alexei allowed to feed as he wanted, and I was kept warm and not hurried to move, I would be fine, and I agreed to wait and see, but if I began to get uncomfortable, I wanted to switch to active management. As it turned out, physiological 3rd stage went perfectly. I stood up, and Kusum could tell by the movement in the cord that the placenta was loose, so still standing in the pool, she got an empty ice cream container ready to catch, it still felt awful, but the relief when it was out was instant. We shuffled a few steps to the couch, where I sat on a few towels and had some absolutely deliciously warm ones wrapped around my shoulders. I had no idea how or why they were so warm, but I didn’t care, it felt amazing. A couple of days later, I discovered folded towels in my oven, and realised where the supply was coming from, I hadn’t even noticed anyone in and out of my kitchen!
The boys had wandered back in just in time to see the placenta come out, and Zeke looked quite shocked by it, I pointed it out to Ryan and Nikkie, who explained what was going on. We had read the book Hello Baby a number of times, so they understood what it was, and once we were on the couch, both Zeke and Liam were very interested in the cord and the placenta, and how it was still attached to Alexei’s belly. Julie set to work on my kitchen, which was looking worse than usual after being so exhausted the last few days, and Kusum watched, took notes and helped clean up.
Alexei and I cuddled on the couch for a while, the placenta sitting in its tub next to us. He began to feed again, gulping strongly, his cheeks hollowing purposefully and swallowing loudly. While he had his feed, Kusum tied off the cord with extra yarn from my blessingway binding, and Ryan cut it. It bled slightly, although it had looked perfectly white and limp at the time. Once we were separate from the placenta, Kusum checked it out, it was perfectly whole, healthy, quite large, and heart shaped! After a very long feed, it was time for Ryan’s first cuddle, and as he had with the bigger boys, he took his shirt off so Alexei could lay against his skin. He kept moving to the other couch from where I was though, which bugged me, I was not ready for my baby to be quite so far away from me just yet - all of 5 feet!
While Ryan cuddled Alexei, I began to think of a hot bath. Julie ran it for me, and I hobbled down the hallway with Kusum to check if I had any tears. I did, quite a decent labial one again, though my perineum was intact. I asked anxiously if it needed to be stitched, and Kusum explained that this one was big enough to require it, but with good care and careful movement the way the two edges sat, it should heal nicely on its own. I opted for good care - I was far more scared of stitches than the tear itself! With manuka honey and Julie’s herbal baths for healing, the tear healed quickly and as though it had never torn to begin with. I soaked in a bath, that as I requested was “volcanic hot”, Julie asked if I wanted Alexei in with me, but I felt the water was too hot, and I wanted to give Ryan some time with him.
By the time I hopped out, my kitchen looked like new, and a hose was set up, beginning to syphon the water out of the pool and straight to the storm water drain - conveniently on our front lawn. Julie and Kusum helped me get my pyjama pants on and Alexei came back for yet more milk, he was also weighed 3.25kg, about 7 pound 2 ounces, my middleweight baby, a little smaller than Zeke, a little bigger than Liam. Nikkie took the placenta home to dehydrate and turn into capsules for me, which turned out to be an amazing benefit, my milk came in sooner, my mood was more stable, and my bleeding was less. I wish I had known about placenta pills earlier! The boys were playing in and out of the lounge, coming back to check on their brother and to ask repeatedly what his name was. Liam called him “Alexei-John” for the first week, running the names together beautifully. We laughed when we noticed the time - we could have been watching the early airing of Dr Who right then! The Day of the Doctor indeed, and not a doctor in sight for this birth. I was thrilled!
Ryan realised that it meant at least one of his sisters would be awake, and went out to make some calls. Kusum left a little after that too, as we were all doing well, and my bleeding was of no concern. She took with her the beads from my blessingway and wove them into the dream catcher I had planned for, using willow from her own garden, it is just beautiful, and such a special gift, and a very nice memento of Alexei’s birth for those who are squeamish about placenta prints and dried cord stumps - some lovely work from Nikkie along with the pills.
Julie asked if I was hungry and brought me some strawberries and grapes to nibble and some orange juice. Sitting on the couch, my hours-old baby resting on my lap, the pool where he had been born just a metre or two in front me, my two big boys running freely around their space, returning briefly to inspect their brother, then flitting off again - how amazing. I couldn’t have felt any better, Julie kept pottering around the kitchen and laundry, I could hear her singing in the background. How lovely to have a wonderful, birth-wise woman caring for me! It all felt so surreal somehow.
Ryan returned, having managed to contact some of his family and let them know the good news. My phone was beginning to go haywire too - we’d messaged the women holding my space shortly after the birth and they had begun to wake up and see our announcement. It was now nearing 7am, and the long night and excitement had started to hit, we decided it was time for everyone to go back to bed for a while. Zeke took some convincing, especially as the sun was up, and Liam cuddled up next to Ryan but we were all asleep - including Julie on the sofa bed - very quickly.
The boys didn’t sleep long, and were up and out of bed after maybe 90 minutes or so. I kicked Ryan out after them, but Julie sent him back to bed while she fed them breakfast and did more laundry. I woke properly myself after only 2 and a half hours of sleep, and couldn’t believe my eyes, there was a tiny, perfect, peacefully sleeping little baby snuggled next to me. I lay there and admired him, too excited to go back to sleep, and hardly able to believe that the simple, no-fuss, quick birth had really taken place. Lying quietly next to Ryan, who was still absolutely out of it, I made some phone calls, first to my mum, and then to my grandmother, who was thrilled as it turned out that it was her father’s birthday, a special date I wasn’t aware of! (Technically he wasn’t born on the anniversary of Dr Who, that was the 23rd, but with time zone differences it was the 24th for Australia.)
The day floated by, Julie made me eggs on toast for breakfast when I emerged a little later, just what I needed after a late-night labour! Ryan’s mum and a couple of his sisters visited later in the day too, they had planned to come up anyway, but the pre-baby helping out visit turned into an admiring the baby one instead. We shared the mudcake I had asked Ryan to get late the night before as well, a ‘birthday’ cake of sorts in Alexei’s honour. I was still in absolute awe that evening, I couldn’t believe how good I felt, I was tired of course, but physically going amazingly, and unbelievably happy.
It wasn’t till I reflected on the birth, that I realised how much intuition there’d been, even years earlier, hearing Alexei’s name, his birth story, seeing him be born into my own hands in the water, predicting the date as a joke, to just hours before his birth, the way I repeated “I’ll either go to sleep, or go into labour as soon as Ryan gets home” , sending Ryan on a hurried shop mission and preparing the space for a baby I was still telling myself was a day or so away. His birth was exactly what I’d wanted, ‘just’ a birth, no huge fuss, quite quick and very simple. Just a birth... but what a birth!
Oh... and the Dr Who 50th Anniversary episode we predicted we’d miss? The five of us sat down as a family that night to watch it together!
Julie asked if I was hungry and brought me some strawberries and grapes to nibble and some orange juice. Sitting on the couch, my hours-old baby resting on my lap, the pool where he had been born just a metre or two in front me, my two big boys running freely around their space, returning briefly to inspect their brother, then flitting off again - how amazing. I couldn’t have felt any better, Julie kept pottering around the kitchen and laundry, I could hear her singing in the background. How lovely to have a wonderful, birth-wise woman caring for me! It all felt so surreal somehow.
Ryan returned, having managed to contact some of his family and let them know the good news. My phone was beginning to go haywire too - we’d messaged the women holding my space shortly after the birth and they had begun to wake up and see our announcement. It was now nearing 7am, and the long night and excitement had started to hit, we decided it was time for everyone to go back to bed for a while. Zeke took some convincing, especially as the sun was up, and Liam cuddled up next to Ryan but we were all asleep - including Julie on the sofa bed - very quickly.
The boys didn’t sleep long, and were up and out of bed after maybe 90 minutes or so. I kicked Ryan out after them, but Julie sent him back to bed while she fed them breakfast and did more laundry. I woke properly myself after only 2 and a half hours of sleep, and couldn’t believe my eyes, there was a tiny, perfect, peacefully sleeping little baby snuggled next to me. I lay there and admired him, too excited to go back to sleep, and hardly able to believe that the simple, no-fuss, quick birth had really taken place. Lying quietly next to Ryan, who was still absolutely out of it, I made some phone calls, first to my mum, and then to my grandmother, who was thrilled as it turned out that it was her father’s birthday, a special date I wasn’t aware of! (Technically he wasn’t born on the anniversary of Dr Who, that was the 23rd, but with time zone differences it was the 24th for Australia.)
The day floated by, Julie made me eggs on toast for breakfast when I emerged a little later, just what I needed after a late-night labour! Ryan’s mum and a couple of his sisters visited later in the day too, they had planned to come up anyway, but the pre-baby helping out visit turned into an admiring the baby one instead. We shared the mudcake I had asked Ryan to get late the night before as well, a ‘birthday’ cake of sorts in Alexei’s honour. I was still in absolute awe that evening, I couldn’t believe how good I felt, I was tired of course, but physically going amazingly, and unbelievably happy.
It wasn’t till I reflected on the birth, that I realised how much intuition there’d been, even years earlier, hearing Alexei’s name, his birth story, seeing him be born into my own hands in the water, predicting the date as a joke, to just hours before his birth, the way I repeated “I’ll either go to sleep, or go into labour as soon as Ryan gets home” , sending Ryan on a hurried shop mission and preparing the space for a baby I was still telling myself was a day or so away. His birth was exactly what I’d wanted, ‘just’ a birth, no huge fuss, quite quick and very simple. Just a birth... but what a birth!
Oh... and the Dr Who 50th Anniversary episode we predicted we’d miss? The five of us sat down as a family that night to watch it together!
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