So I haven’t posted in a while mainly due to it being CHRISTMAS 🎅 however William is napping on me (cardinal sin), Norms is out looking at golf watches (don’t understand either) so thought I’d write about my labour experience.
I was always petrified and I mean PETRIFIED of labour. I’m not a fanny, I was just convinced I was going to die. (Dramatic) I had a heart murmur when I was younger and it’s always baffled me how the human body can do such a massive traumatic thing and not give up the ghost afterwards! I mean don’t get me wrong, not everybody has a straightforward and easy labour, and some people unfortunately don’t live to tell the tale. With all the negative press (especially in our local press) about all the bad things that can happen in childbirth, or the state of our NHS etc etc I was getting myself in a right tizz.
So I was due on 17th October 2016. 2 days before our 3rd wedding anniversary and our 7 year anniversary of being together. What a wonderful gift that would of been! I was all geared up to be late. The more and more into my pregnancy I went, the more I was convinced I was going to go over my due date. Little did I know I was going to be 2 weeks early! On the dot!
So on 2nd October (it was a sunday) we spent the day at my mums putting the pram and car seat together. The men were doing my head in – not wanting to read instructions, telling me they knew how to do it, they were men, they were masculine etc etc. In the end I ended up bending and lugging shit all around my mums living room to her pleas of “don’t Tara you’ll send yourself into labour”!! On the evening I got a bath and felt something drop in my belly. Like as if it had fallen down from its lodged place. It was SO WEIRD. I looked at my bump in the mirror afterwards but it didn’t look any different. Obviously the baby was just having a jump around or something. I went to bed that night, not feeling any different, just mega tired. I hardly slept all night, I was so uncomfortable. Listen, I know the last few weeks of pregnancy aren’t the easiest, but I was much more uncomfortable than before. Up and down to the loo about 10 times, tossing and turning, heartburn straight from the depths of Damiens Cove, weird dreams about labour, feeling hot, feeling cold, snotty nose, sneezing, runny nose. Everything possible. It was about 4am and I had slept about 40 minutes all in all. I just lay there wondering how long this was going to last. Then Norms got up at 5am to go to work for 6am. He was going on his new bike so I could use the car we shared. The tyres were flat. So there i was, 9 months pregnant holding his bike in the living room while he pumped the tyres up at 5.45am. Oh the glamour 😂
Anyways, at 7am I woke up after I dozed off, needing a Wee. Like DESPERATE for a wee. As I stood off the bed I noticed my pants and the mattress were a little wet. “Oh God I’ve pissed myself” I said out loud. I was wondering when that was going to happen. I’d been close with the pressure of William on my bladder. And now it had happened. So I waddled off the the bog, and the water kept coming out of me. More than a wee. Like someone had turned a tap on in my nether region. I still had a wee, then when I stood up, the water kept coming. All over the bathroom floor. A weird pink colour. It was then when I panicked. And the reality hit me. MY WATERS HAD BROKEN. Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod. What do I do? Am I ready for this? What if I die? Our baby boy was on his way. Oh my jesus. Then I realised. Norms was at work. He was going to Wales. What if he was stuck in traffic and couldn’t turn around? Oh bloody hell. I rang his phone. No answer. I rang again. No answer. FUCK. I tried again…nope nothing. What the fuck was he doing??!!! I tried his phone in his lorry. He answered. WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN were probably the first things to come out of my mouth. I then told him he needed to come home as my waters had broken. We agreed I would ring the hospital then ring him back. I rung the antenatal unit and they told me to ring them back when the day unit opened about 8.45. It was about 8am at this point. I was getting period type pains..would I last until then?
I rung the ward back up at 8.45 on the dot. Norms had just walked (biked) through the door, and they told me to keep the pants and pads my waters had leaked onto and go in as soon as possible for me to be assessed. This was it. The bags were packed ready to go. I was so glad they had been packed since 32 weeks. We both got showers and I ate a muffin, in case I didn’t eat all day. Then we were off. The contractions were getting stronger now but were still not in a pattern. Then because it was rush hour traffic the ten minute trip to Hull royal took about 20. I was riving around in the car in agony. Someone on a bus that was as stationary next to us gave me a funny look. I didn’t care. I felt like my fanny was going to explode.
We got to hospital and I had to wait about 30 mins to be seen. In that time I think I scared the people in the waiting room with my moaning and groaning and wriggling around in the seat in pain, it was when a midwife came past and saw my panting when I was finally seen. I was taken to a room and the midwife sniffed my pants and maternity pads, and had a look to see if I was dilated and actually in labour. When she told me our baby was coming and I was 3-4cm and we would have our baby today I nearly shit all over her hand. I couldn’t believe it. I looked at norms with a mixture of happiness, fright and total shock. The midwife said we needed to go up to the delivery suite straight away and asked if I was OK to walk there. I said yes. That was a mistake. It took about 20 mins for me to walk a 2 minute journey, half of which was in a lift, due to the contractions getting stronger and stronger. Someone even came out of their office to see what the noise was all about, to be greeted with me slumped against the wall holding my vagina. Good job I don’t work in that department of the hospital, that could of been slightly embarrassing.
I got up the delivery suite and was shown into my room. It was big, ensuite bathroom with shower and bath, little sofa in the corner and a bed in the middle. I ignored all the medical shit in the corner I couldn’t think of thay otherwise I’d put my flip flops back on and waddle straight back out of there.
The contractions were about 2 minutes apart at this point, it was about 11am, and this continued until about 12ish. I was on the ball, on the sofa, waddling all over the place trying to breathe through the pain. It’s so weird – when the contractions stopped it was like I was myself again, then they would come and I was turn into a moaning groaning grunting beast from a swamp similar to the Gruffalo. It got to about 12 and I said to the midwife “I think I need a shit” (I had already prepared her for my foul language just in case she was easily offended) so she said it would be good if I went. So I did. I’ve always said I’ll be honest in this blog. So please don’t be offended, but anyone who has been in labour will probably tell you at some point you go for a crap. Well mine was in the toilet but it was HORRENDOUS. I’ll leave it there. I asked the midwife to stay with me in case I pushed my baby put while I was pushing my poo out. She said I wouldn’t, but I insisted so she waited like a saint outside the door. Bless her.
I then asked her if I could have some pain relief as I hadn’t had anything up to then, no gas and air or anything. So she checked how far along I was, and I was greeted with ” well your about 9-10cm now, so it’s time to start pushing if you feel the need to, your baby is on his way!” And that was that. No epidural for me. I’d gone so far without gas and air, I needed to push, what was the point now? So I started pushing. It’s a weird feeling. It’s like your pushing for a poo, but nothing really happens. I started pushing around half 12. I was on and off the bed, on my front, on my back, on all fours, I just couldn’t find a position that felt right. After an hour and 15 minutes of pushing, the sister in charge came in to help and told me I needed to push harder. I had a contraction and pushed. She told me off for screaming. She told me to push from the other end and not my throat. She had me pull my legs up to my chest, one foot on her and the other midwife’s hip and to push. I did this for about 10 minutes. I was getting exhausted and my contractions were easing off, with me only being able to push 3 times with each one. Norms said that they started getting the trolley out with the equipment on such as forceps and utensils to make a cut. I was NOT aware of this. I was just trying to remember to breathe. I was shattered. I had zero energy. I didn’t want to do this anymore. Couldn’t they just send me for a cesarean?? I was fed up.
The sister then told me I really needed to push with all my might as my baby was getting tired and as I was too, my contractions were slowing down and it wasn’t good for my baby. I told her I was trying but I was too tired. She then told me “it’s called labour for a reason – because it is. It’s not supposed to be easy but you can do this. Your doing so well, don’t give up now, your baby is going to be here soon. I can see his head and he has lots of hair.” I asked her if she was just saying that to try make me hurry up or whether he was actually nearly here. Norms said he could see the head when I was pushing and he did have hair!
I suddenly got this burst of energy. I was going to do this. I wanted to meet my baby. I wanted to not to pregnant anymore. I wanted to get off my back as I was in agony. I was READY AS FUCK.
So with that burst I told them I wanted to push. So I pushed and I pushed. The head started to come out. It stung like frigg. I kept shouting to the midwife that it was stinging. She said it would. The head was there. She asked me if I wanted to touch it. I told her I did not. She then told me that with my next couple of pushes he would be here. When my next contraction came she told me to push slowly. I didn’t listen to her. I pushed with all my might. The head was out fully!!! She then told me to pant and not push yet. I had a massive wave and contraction, and gave an almighty push. His body just sort of….flopped out. Then I heard the cry. The most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. I had done it. I did it! I had given birth! The sister told me I had done it! My first words to her were “am I dead?!” She laughed. I was being serious. I was delirious. Adrenaline was pumping through me and she placed him on me and I looked down at this chubby, red, gloopy shit covered face. I’d done it. His eyes were tightly shut and he was all squishy. But he was mine. I’d done it. I’d given birth. He was safe. I was safe. Norms was with me. I’d never felt so much love and pride in all my life. It is the most indescribable feeling.
William Arthur Mills born 03.10.2016 at 14.12 weighing 7lb 13oz. The most wonderful gift I’ve ever received.
After labour we cuddled for a little then the placenta has to evacuate. That is literally like having a poo out of your fanny. And it’s massive! I had a look! It’s weird, like a mixture between a brain and a jellyfish. Then I had to be stitched up. I only had a second degree tear, so a moderate one. The midwife assistant asked me if I wanted gas and air to help with the pain of my stitches. I laughed in her face. She probably thought I was very rude. I explained I had just pushed this baby in my arms out with no gas and air and said there was probably no point in her getting it all out. And we laughed and laughed then she stuck a massive needle in me and sewed me up with what I can only describe as parcel string. It was delightful. (Sense the sarcasm).
After that it was time to take your first shower and piss after labour. Walking after labour is tricky. I felt like I’d never had legs before! I decided to have as shower rather than a bath because I was scared if I sat down in the bath I’d never get back out of it. And in my case, the first wee wasn’t all that bad. Bit stingy, bit scared to push it out, as the last time I was pushing it was to try and get a 7lb 13oz baby out of my vagina. It haunts you for days.
Me and norms then ate the buttery-est white toast and I had two cups of the sugary most strong tea ever and it was literally the best meal of my life.
After that you go to a room and that’s where you stay until you go home. Your wheeled through the ward and I honestly felt like a queen with my new baby in my arms, husband behind me and that post labour glow (sweat). So all in all I was in labour 7 hours or so. I couldn’t believe how fast it had gone. Now don’t get me wrong I am very lucky, some people’s labours are days long and are very painful and have complications. I am very thankful that mine was short and straightforward. It’s something I’ll never forget for the rest of my life. Norms was amazing and so supportive, and I honestly can’t thank the midwife and staff at the Hull royal infirmary enough throughout the whole labour and after birth experience. The NHS really doesn’t get the recognition it deserves. The midwife and midwife assistant also came back to see me after their shifts had finished to check I was OK and see how we were doing. How lovely? Especially after I’m sure I called them all fuckers and bitches about 10 times.