There once was a time when I never would have considered birthing at home. As a former veterinarian I had delivered puppies and calves, given oxytocin injections and numerous epidurals and of course performed cesarean sections. Despite my experience in giving needles and providing medical care, I have a needle phobia and a deep-seated fear of both medical procedures and facilities. I couldn’t imagine the anxiety and more likely sheer terror I would experience being in the already completely unfamiliar experience of labour, coupled with the frightening surrounds of a hospital setting. Having said that, initially I didn’t know of any other option. After numerous friends had given birth at home with the help of a local midwifery group, I did a lot of reading and research into the topic and found some surprising studies and statistics. I had also spoken to friends that went down the hospital route, most had ended up having a caesarean section and had an overall feeling of disappointment when speaking about their birth experience describing it as ‘horrible’, even ‘traumatic’. Those that didn’t have surgery had assisted deliveries and experienced significant tearing and ongoing pelvic floor problems requiring later surgery. Scary as all of that was, common sense told me that I was unlikely to be able to surrender to the natural process of giving birth if I was in an unnatural surrounding, with people I didn’t know, and with my choices and instincts potentially smothered by the pressure of the modern medical system – as life saving as it can be. After a lot of consideration, I chose to use the midwifery group and planned to birth at home. I aimed to avoid the hospital at all costs.
My midwife was exactly what I needed – easy going, relaxed and on board with keeping things as natural as possible. At around 7 months into my pregnancy she predicted my baby would probably be just over 7 pounds. She did follow that up by asking how big Andy is (my husband) as at that stage she still hadn’t met him. I responded ‘tall’ and that was about the end of the conversation. I had very few problems during pregnancy and for the last couple of months it was clear that baby was sitting with its spine on my left hand side, head down, face looking across to my right and its bottom up under my ribs. This was called ‘LOL’ – left occiput lateral (or transverse) – a great position to be in and also the most common position. Sitting on my left however I found that the more the day progressed and the more food I ate, the more uncomfortable I would become with rib and upper back pain near my stomach and a feeling of trapped gas through my intestines. I was also supplementing with iron which certainly contributed to the feeling that nothing was really moving through. (Thinking back, I actually had to lean to the right to successfully go to the toilet!)
In the last week of my pregnancy I started to feel as if I was approaching a final exam at uni. There comes a point where you simply cannot prepare any more. No additional cleaning, reading or yoga practice was likely to make much difference now that the big day was so close. Every time I went to the toilet I checked for a bloody show – and was a little disappointed when the paper was clear. I had been having Braxton Hicks contractions for about two weeks but over the last few days they seemed more uncomfortable and created more of a dull period like pain across my lower back. Finally at about 1am on Friday morning (the day before my due date) I felt a contraction. Thinking this must be it, I went to the toilet to find a tiny amount of blood on the paper and a little mucous. I had read that if you wake in the night with your first contractions – ‘Don’t wake up your partner! You are in for a long ride yet. Go back to sleep.’ So I did. When we awoke a few hours later I told Andy ‘my labour is starting’ and he went about reorganising his day so that he could come home from work early. Mum had flown in a few days prior to be here for the birth and help out afterward. We all went for a little walk and then had salad sandwiches for lunch – my last meal to get me through the marathon ahead. I actually thought at the time I hope I don’t regret this sandwich – a thought that would come back to me later that night…
Shortly after eating I found myself retreating to the bedroom alone to lie down and start to process some stronger and more regular contractions. Lying on my right hand side I felt uncomfortable in the stomach – much like during pregnancy, and lying on my left side wasn’t much better. I ended up sitting in a straddle position on my shins with my knees apart and leaning back into Andy, and later my mum as Andy got to work inflating and filling the birth pool.
We first called the midwife at around 3pm, our instructions were to phone when I was having 3 contractions within 10 minutes, contractions were lasting at least 1 minute and had some power behind them. Already struggling with the concept of time, Andy and mum told me it was time to phone and I was unable to talk during the contractions but managed to relay information in between. My midwife was not on call and another midwife was on her way to assess my progress. When she arrived at about 4pm to examine me I was 1cm dilated. Holy shit! This was (at the time) the worst news of my life! How could I have been moaning on the bed unable to get comfortable for what felt like ages only to have literally just started the process!! Knowing I had a long way to go, the midwife went home, only to be called again an hour later with my contractions getting stronger, my vocals getting louder and by now I’d also felt a small pop and some leaking of fluid.
Once the midwife arrived, I continued to manage the contractions on the bed, leaning back on my knees the only way to provide some relief to the feeling of pressure and discomfort building in my abdomen. I had been practicing pranayama (yogic breathing) regularly during my last trimester and had decided to use my practice and ‘moan’ during contractions, dragging out the sound on the exhalation to get through each surge. After some time I felt more of a rush of fluid onto the bed and when I went to the bathroom a clear mucous plug was present. I’m not sure what had happened earlier, but my waters had truly broken now. The midwife was adamant that I keep drinking fluids between contractions and try to eat something. I can tell you that there was literally zero chance I was going to eat anything!
Once the birth pool was full I entered the water which definitely gave some relief, however I had this building pain on my left hand side that I just couldn’t figure out and nothing seemed to relieve it. I tried different positions, squatting felt terrible, leaning left felt terrible, leaning right felt terrible and being on hands and knees didn’t help much either. All the physical yoga postures I’d been practicing to get me ready for labour were seemingly useless now, this ‘other’ pain was completely blind-siding me. The midwife suggested I should empty my bladder but by the time I got to the bathroom my head was straight over the toilet and I was vomiting. I remember hearing a labouring woman vomiting once whilst I had been waiting for my prenatal appointment and thinking just how awful that must be. Turns out I was right!
I had another examination at midnight – 5cm dilated. So only now was labour really starting! By this point my moaning had become true bellowing. I couldn’t howl loud enough or long enough. Looking up at my mother’s face, my husband’s face, God I felt for them watching me go through this. I also thought of the neighbours once or twice! I was SO loud. Over the next few hours I bellowed through strong contractions squeezing Andy’s hand, as each surge built I could hear myself saying “no, no, no…” and thinking ‘not yet, I’m not ready!’ Worst of all was this persistent pain in my side. Could this pain just be trapped gas? That’s exactly what it felt like with a radiating heat around my side into my lower back. As I started to enter what truly felt like a timeless abyss, a rigorous trance where nothing around me was clear, the contraction pain started to seem more manageable. Perhaps not because it was more manageable, but because the pain I felt between contractions was now worse than the contractions themselves. There was no rest, no relief, and no understanding of what was going on in my body interfering with my ability to labour. All I could do was survive, occasionally glancing towards the window waiting to see that first light that would confirm my fears – I had literally been bellowing all night.
At 4am I had another examination. 8cm dilated and one side of my cervix was still thickened. I was not dilating evenly and I later heard the midwife describe to someone on the phone that during contractions my cervix was ‘going the wrong way’ i.e. I was tensing up uncontrollably, pushing against the surges, not relaxing between contractions and overall just not coping with the pain. Suddenly I called for the bucket and began vomiting violently over the side of the birth pool, all my efforts to stay hydrated being forcefully ejected before my eyes, water spilling over onto the floorboards where I clung to the side of the pool. It was time for ‘the chat’.
I had felt over the last hour or so that the contractions, the labouring and enduring of pain was becoming more and more futile. I didn’t feel any sort of progression – no changes in timing of contractions, no pressure down in my pelvis, I just felt like things were stuck. Despite my strongest resolve to have a home birth and avoid the hospital system, I truly felt my labour was unlikely to progress unless I could allow it to, and the ordeal had just been too much for too long – I was exhausted. I made the decision to call the ambulance and transfer to the hospital.
I wasn’t aware that the ambulance had arrived around 5am, I could hardly see the two paramedics in my lounge room, I could hardly see anything at all. Once I was up out of the birth pool apparently my husband dressed me (I don’t remember this, my mum said I looked close to passing out), however I apparently had enough drive to get myself to the top of the driveway before the stretcher could be wheeled down, asking the paramedics if I could just get on! So began the journey of managing the pain, avoiding caesarean and birthing my baby – another 12 hours later…
Part 2: https://www.greenbody.com.au/2018/07/09/birth-eoin-eldon-moriarty-part-2/