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Seth's Birth

My birth story - VERY LONG.

Bear in mind this was written TEN years ago, before I became a midwife. I wanted a home birth, but the midwife talked me into a DOMINO ('Domiciliary in and out') meaning the community midwife would accompany me in, catch the baby, then discharge me home. I had the privilege of watching my General Practioner (GP) bawl out the midwife for even considering me for a DOMINO with me looking on like I didn't have a say in the matter (so I didn't, who am I anyway?). I then had my antenatal care shared by Midwife, hospital (block bookings, conveyor belt style) and GP -(barest essentials, don't dream of asking questions). Of course, with the benefit of hind sight I know I could have been more assertive, changed things, even gone for the home birth I would have dearly loved but didn't work out: what I got was a hospital birth with a short stay. So YER TIZ as they say in Devon, as it was written, just after the event:

"As Steve put it ... This labour was much less of a marathon, more of a sprint!

Our baby was due on 10th October - a Saturday, but I felt things were beginning to happen from as early as the Sunday prior to this. The Braxton Hix contractions I had been experiencing for a good two months had started to become a little more frequent and noticeable, though still painless. I had also started to lose moderate amounts of whitish mucousy substance vaginally - the midwife at the antenatal clinic agreed these were signs that things were happening - and the discharge was evidence that my cervix was thinning.

Wednesday night arrived with no further happenings. Nina's class (National Childbirth Trust antenatal class - UK) at 8PM found me with little more to report: everyone was keeping a close eye on me because I was first due! We were on our way home by 10.30pm. As I got out of the car, I felt a contraction like a mild period pain, and the uncomfortable sensation of a large amount of mucous coming away. I rushed to the bathroom to inspect this, and a wave of exitement (and fear) washed over me as I saw it was blood stained - definitely the 'show'. When I told Steve he quipped that I wasn't allowed to have this baby yet - we hadn't finished tiling the kitchen floor.

I was surprised at how quickly the contractions started after this - I seemed to be feeling definite pains every 5-10 minutes. But this was our first baby so we thought we had plenty of time. We thought we'd better eat something in preparation for the marathon - but although I'd felt ravenous just half hour before, the excitement of baby's imminent arrival seemed to have taken my appetite away. Steve went to reheat a quiche I'd made earlier anyway, while I tried to time the contractions - already they seemed to be much stronger, more uncomfortable, though not unbearable. They seemed to be lasting about 25-30 secs. and were happening every 5 mins or so... I thought I was alright to wait until they lasted a minute, but I wasn't aware that they ever did, just got closer together and stronger. By the time Steve plonked supper on the table, I couldn't have felt less like eating. In fact I was now feeling nauseous and trembly. I was also very uncomfortable, wriggling on my knees on the chair, pushing a slice of quiche around a plate with waves of contractions coming ever more frequently. Steve was trying to distract me (I think) by making corny jokes, but I had lost any sense of humour. By the time he had finished eating he suggested we phone the hospital to let them know we were coming in.

I wasn't aware of time passing now - just trying to breath steadily and relax and get through each contraction - I was sounding like a locomotive! I remember much rushing around as I couldn't get comfortable anywhere. I was to be found squatting over the toilet, or on my hands and knees in the bedroom, or rolling about on the sofa or bed. While Steve was on the phone to the hospital, my membranes burst and water gushed everywhere. One hour after we got home, the situation was rapidly degenerating into a farce.

I was totally unable to do anything else but labour. Being on my hands and knees was a favourite position. I remember feeling a complete mess as water carried on trickling down my legs and climbing out of sudden underwear had become a monumental task. Meanwhile Steve was doing the fastest tidy up of the living area whilst simulataneously throwing things in a suitcase for me and the baby. OF COURSE I hadn't packed. He was also, relatively calmly, telling me not to breathe so heavily as I appeared to be hyperventilating. Surprisingly I remember listening to him and slowing down and immediatly feeling less dizzy.

Eventually all was piled in the car. I suppose it must have been midnight - and by this time I was bellowing like a cow. Making this noise made the contractions easier to bear - but must have been very disconcerting for the neighbours and Steve. In retrospect I must have been fully dilated at this point - but it was all happening so incredibly fast I couldn't take it in.

I wasn't thinking very rationally. Our car is a two door estate yet I made a phenomenal effort to climb in the back as I couldn't face sitting, let alone wearing a seat belt. (I'm sure labouring women don't have to wear a seat belt anyway?!) Again I was to be found on hands and knees, wrapped around a cushion which I didn't let go of until I arrived on the labour ward. I was still bellowing and grunting. I vaguely remember wanting to have my bowels open and trying not to and yet more water puddling down my legs and soaking the car seat - I felt a total mess and kept apologising. Looking back I was VERY fortunate not to have had the baby in the car. In between contractions I remember yelling at Steve "Have you got the coop card?"

"NO" he yelled and promptly did a U turn, mounting the pavement in the process to dash back to get it. This turned out to be a TOTAL waste of time as noone at the hospital even glanced at it. On the move again, I shout "Have you got the birth plan?" I'd left it lying on the table, but "**** the birth plan" replies dh and assures me he'll remember everything we want for the birth...

The journey to ST Georges (London) is like a series of 'stills' in a movie. On our arrival there are no porters to be found. I remember thinking there's no way I can get off the back seat, clamber over the front seat to get out of the car and in through the entrance - then somehow I've done it. Steve has found a wheelchair, meantime. I can't SIT in it, but I kneel, with bum in air and arms wrapped round back rest, and of course still bellowing loudly. With Steve pushing we seem to whizz down a long corridor ricocheting off walls, past one bemused staff nurse who gestures toward ceiling "first floor". Of course there AREn't any lifts and we have to wait millenia for one to arrive with my yells echoing around the foyer. With what relief were we directed straight toward room 3 on labour ward - they've heard me coming apparently.

It was a small room, with a high narrow rubber topped couch and nothing much else. I threw myself on the floor where i continued to make primeval noises, pushing or trying not to push. (I'm not sure which). A stout middle aged west Indian midwifery sister proceeded to organise the room, pushing in CTG monitors, drip stands and the like. I was asked if I wanted to pass a urine sample! I thought everything was pouring out of me - I wouldn't have known if that included urine or not. The midwife instructed Steve to help me onto the couch. Steve helped me out of sodden clothes into a T-shirt - then I climbed onto the couch which was horribly uncomfortable. The floor was infinitely better. The monitor was promptly strapped to my belly: Fetal Heart loudly echoes around room. About this time I was given the entonox mask to use. It was absolute bliss - I remember being able to distinguish the end of one contraction from the beginning of the next for the first time in an age.

Apparently the CTG tracing was not good. the midwife couldn't get a clear reading for long enough. The midwife wanted to put a foetal scalp electrode on the baby's head. Muffled "no!" from me and Steve interprets "my wife would rather NOT have a clip in the baby's head". The midwife seems a little put out by this, but she does her best to comply with our requests - At the time the midiwfe's manner seems a little brusque ( I thought she HATED me) but looking back we think it was more concern for mine and the baby's safety that made her appear so curt, because after the baby's arrival she certainly relaxed and became more friendly.

I was still making a lot of noise. At one point the sister says to Steve that from the FUSS that I was making she thought the baby must be ready to arrive. I can remember feeling TERRIBLY hurt by this, I thought she was being sarcastic. Steve reassured me she was genuine - I still hadn't grasped how quickly this labour was progressing.

I don't remember an internal examination at all, but all of a sudden the mask is taken away and I am told to "Push if you like", I now have no urge to push!

Steve continues to be absolute champion and says "My wife would like to get in different position - perhaps even a birthing stool or similar?" The midwife glowers and shrugs - I can get in any position I choose. I knew I didn't want to be lying back like a beached whale (which was horrible) so I did the only thing I could think of under the circumstances - I flipped over onto my hands and knees again. I then drape myself over foam wdge which had propped me up and use it as a brace against which to pull as I experiment with pushing.

This is the only part of the labour I recall as truly painful. As I gave one push I could feel the baby's head move into the top of my vagina - it felt like I was stretching apart - and though the pain was momentary | remember screeching "sh*t, that HURTS" and the baby moved smoothly and rapidly down and out...

Even though I was facing the back of the couch and couldn't see anything I could feel and hear everything. I heard the midwife say "stop pushing, don't push" with some urgency but I couldn't comply because I wasn't. I felt the baby's head being born and the cord being removed from around the baby's neck. I heard a mucous extractor being used and a strange snuffly little cry.

All was then so quiet I thought the worst.

Steve had been holding the FH monitor in place all this time, and turned around just in time to see the baby's head being born and the rest of his body slither out - yes it was a boy! I can vaguely remember Steve preventing the midwife from performing an episiotomy, as he knew I'd rather tear unless it was absolutely necessary. Consequently I got a Y shaped second degree tear. the midwife blamed on my "awkward position". I don't recall how I got off my hands and knees but the moment my little boy was laid across my chest all covered in gore and vernix must have blotted all else out - it was magical. Seth William was born at 00.58hrs on Thursday 8th October 1987 and looked decidedly worse for the wear: because of his rapid arrival his nose was squashed and eyes swelling, his head elongated and he looked like a cross between Henry Cooper and E.T. We were totally enamoured. But stangely I felt I had cheated. The labour had only taken 2hrs and 15mins so far. I had not wanted syntometrine to be given routinely as I had wanted the baby to be breathing well and the cord to stop pulsing before it was cut and the placenta delivered ( didn't know this was physiological third stage" then - I think what I got was controlled cord traction without synto!) The midwife complied with Steve's request, but there had been no time to discuss why I didn't want the drug, so while Steve and I were gazing at our new son, the cord was clamped, cut and the placenta delivered without us ever knowing wether it had stopped pulsing or not. Meanwhile, I was bleeding a lot, so I got the injection anyway.

Baby Seth was very quiet still - but looked perfect! The midwife now introduced herself as Paula - she made me laugh by ostentatiously counting his fingers and toes for me - little did she know that this was one of the first things I'd done. Paula then left us alone to get to know one another - and a cup of tea was ordered.

I tried putting Seth to the breast - He was very clever and caught on quickly. We obviously make a good team. I was very glad I had when Paula returned as she wanted to give him some water. She didn't bother when she saw he was content with what he got from me.

We got our first chance to hear how loudly he could yell when he was weighed. He was 8lb6oz., 55cm long and 35cm head circumference. He had a lovely head of hair (old gold colour) which emerged when Paula gave him a hearty scrub. I got just as vigorous a scrub afterwards. Once Seth was cleaned up, he was dressed in a little white gown and swaddled in a blanket and handed to Steve while my nether regions were stitched up by a doctor. I knew I hadn't cheated - the suturing was a lot more uncomfortable than the birth methinks. However the doctor did an excellent job and the tears healed well.

We arrived on the ward at 5am, and were home by midday. We'd mentioned being on the DOMINO scheme when phoning the labour ward to warn of our impending arrival - but unfortunatly there were no community midwives available - this turned out to be of no consequence since I guess they'd've been hard put to get to the hospital in time for the birth anyway. Next time (?) - I intend to have a home birth - with the community midwife camped out in our front room for at least a week before EDD..."

There never has been a next time - I have fertility probs. so never managed to get pregnant again. No matter - Seth is compensation (hence his name!).From the vantage point of being a midwife I can see how the experience could have been better - I was so SCARED! I thought I'd have to cope with 12 hours of labouring like that... And how absurd to transfer to hospital. How much better to have a midwife call at home to assess prior to transferring and STAYING PUT if this is what the couple want. I feel short is shocking. I'd prefer a nice 8 hour labour with a longer build up to get used to the idea! I'd love to see my notes now. Did I get CCT without synto? Was the cord round Seth's neck so tight it was cut befroe his body was born (though it felt like he exploded out?) What were his apgars? I also value continuity. If the midwife had known our wishes, and we'd known her, a lot of painful feelings could have been avoided. I also wonder if I had such a rapid labour because I used to be fascinated with how far I could squirt colostrum across the bathroom antenatally - good ol' nipple stimulation! (Just that sort of person!!) I work hard to facilitate choice in my practice and see all sort of variations. And women in our area and much of the UK now get their notes to take home and look at/photocopy before they get stored at 28days by the hospital, whereever the birth. Sorry this is so long.

Love to you all,
Terri