Childbirth

I have been pondering over this topic for a while now, because of course I deal with childbirth on a daily basis, and it is human nature to be comparative to ones own experience when discussing such issues. Of course my role as a midwife requires that I remain objective and dont compare personal experience to professional practice, but that does not mean I cant think and write about my experience in the context of professional practice.

As I was training to be a midwife I often wondered whether it would be easier to encourage a woman and support her through her pain when I had children of my own. Certainly women aways asked me whether I had children and looked a little dismayed when I said no. It seems important to many women to know this information. They want to know that you really know what they are going through. Although this is usually early on in labour when thay are still conversing with you! I have to say as soon as I began contracting frequently I couldnt have cared less whether my midwife had 0 or 20 children as long she got me the sedatives I wanted!

My training had taught me that first baby's take an average of 12 hours labour before they make an appearance, so I had spent the last few weeks of pregnancy psyching myself up for the event, trying to get myself into the right mind-set to cope with the labour and avoid all the 'crap' that I knew all too well. I didnt want any of this clarty, massaging, aromatherapy, natural, happy-clappy, stuff - I new that it was either gas and air and cope with that or .....sedatives! And I have to be honest the latter was very appealing!

Of course nothing can actually prepare you for the intensity of the pain that you experience in labour, but on the morning of Ali's birth I experienced no 'period like' crampy pains that usually pre-empt contractions, no show, no waters breaking, nothing majorly different - I just woke up, spent nearly half an hour on the toilet emptying the entire contents of my digestive system, and then - bam! 0750am and my contractions started regularly, bloody strong and very frequent! There was no build up, no warning signs and all the mental preparation I had done may as well have gone out the window! One virtually on top of the next I had little time to take stock.

On ringing for advice I was told the standard spiel - two paracetamol and have a bath - and I could have thrown the phone across the room, as if two paracetamol were going to even touch the pain - so I decided in my infinite wisdom to have a shower! I was adamant that just because I was pregnant and in labour, was not going to mean my basic hygiene was not maintained! Of course I lasted about 2 minutes in the shower, at which point D started telling me this was ridiculous and that we should just go into hospital and get checked out. So ensued a slightly panicked check of the bags, me throwing some clothes on and ensuring there was a towel on the new Alfa Romeo before I got in!

The worst part was the car journey to the hospital. 25mins (well 20 at high speed), trapped in the car seat, unable to move about and 'rock' the pain away. I have never been so happy to see A & E in all my life; certainly now it only means I have arrived at work! Admitted to maternity and a quick examination to determine whether my cervix was actually dilated, or that I was a total wuss and was going to need an epidural; and I was promptly taken to a room and given the gas and air as I was already 6cm dilated. Thank the lord! (He's not gona help you now hunny - Thats what one of my collegues would have said!) It was when I was given the gas and air that I began to regain control. Up until then I was completely panick stricken. Now I could concentrate. I focused soley on my breathing. It's good stuff believe you me!

Now there came a point when the pain intensified and it became just a bit too much, and I chose to have a sedative. At the time I thought it was warranted as I could have had to keep going for over 4 hours to get to fully dilated, and I couldnt bare the pain any longer. In retrospect, I wish I hadnt. Initially I had asked for diamorphine but there was a national shortage and the hospital only had Pethindine, which is worse for the baby as it crosses the placenta and sedates them as well. I just said that was fine because I really needed something. However I always wonder if it was the Pethidine which set the scene for the events that started to unfold.

It had been somewhere between 9 and 10am when we arrived at the hospital, and by 12noon I was pushing. The midwife broke my waters for me at this point and it was evident that Ali had become quite distressed by the speed of this labour as she had pooed a lot in the waters. Now I dont recall a lot around this time as the Pethidine had me virtually knocked out, but I did hear loud and clear Ali's heart rate plumet down way too low, and it did not return to normal rate. D reliably informs me that the room started to look a bit like a scene from ER as it started to fill up with people. Midwives, doctors, paediatricians, and of course a wealth of equipment. Decision was to suck her out! Perform a ventouse - where they attach a suction cup on the baby's head to pull it out while you push.

From this point I only remember a few things. I heard the doctor say, 'im going to have to cut you to make some more room for the baby coming out', I said, 'do you have to', he said, 'yes'. Then there came a point where I heard him say 'right you really have to push because this baby needs to come out now!' It was the way he said it and I pushed for her life.

Shitting a melon is a total understatement!

When she was out she was whipped away to the resuscitaire to 'suction' out any meconium (poo) which may be in the process of being swallowed or inhaled, and I believe she may have been given some oxygen to bring her round a bit, but I think she was ok pretty much straight away. Again I was doped up with the Pethidine so still not quite with it at this time! I dont know how anyone can do drugs because it was such an awful feeling to be out of control like that and drifting in and out of consciousness. Maybe that's the very reason they do do it?!

I always hate to admit the next part of my tale, as I feel very guilty about it. The thing is as midwives we tell women that all the pain and exhaustion will be worth it when they see their baby and hold their baby for the first time - but when they passed Alina to me I didnt feel an immediate bond or love for her. I felt protective because I knew she was mine, but no bond, and this really upset me! I wanted to feel this overwhelming love like no other that every mother I knew spoke about, but I didnt and I looked at her and passed her to D while the midwife and doctor sorted me out.

Later I spent the evening playing 'happy new mother' as my family visited and while D was there, but when the evening came and I was stuck in that hospital with no-one, and the midwives busy, I kept staring at her willing myself to feel this undeniably strong bond. When I look back now I think Alina knew I felt this way because she would not let me put her down all night. She cried and screamed every time I tried to put her in the cot, and so the night consisted of holding her and breastfeeding her. As did the next 8 months! No bloody wonder I looked like death!

I have the breastfeeding to thank for eventually bonding with my daughter, and if women seriously dont want to breastfeed I discuss skin to skin contact with them, as this also plays a big part and can be done with the baby's father too. I persisted with the breastfeeding, despite my own midwife suggesting I top her up with a bottle!, and despite a lot of pressure from various sources to give up. This was my saving grace, the one thing that only I could do for her! And over time as we did this, my heart began to melt for her.