A 'His and Hers' Birth Story!

by anon

HERS!

This was my 2nd pregnancy after a 4 ½ year gap.

We had a nucal scan (to test for Down's Syndrome) as I am getting old!!!  The results weren’t as good as we would have hoped. Then, at our 20 week scan they detected unilateral talipes (club foot), which was a shock as it hadn’t been picked up at our soft and hard marker scan. Another two scans later and yes it was definitely there. Oh, and our baby was in the footling breech position (something I could confirm with all the kicks in the bottom!).

As I grew very big our baby stayed in a footling breech position and I was confident 'it' would turn, and everyone told me 'it' would turn……

We saw the consultant at 35 weeks and discussed having a c-section due the baby’s positioning, but decided to try to turn the baby first and this was duly booked for the following Thursday (when I would be 36 weeks). I had already decided I didn’t want to book in for a c-section. I wanted an 'in labour' c-section owing to the benefits, for me and the baby, of labour starting naturally.

On the Saturday that I was 35 weeks & 2 days, my brother came to visit from London and we enjoyed lunch in the garden. At 5 o’clock I started to get my daughter ready for her dance show.  I didn’t feel my best after the reiki session my dear brother had performed in the hope of turning the baby. I packed my labour bag and put it in the car…….

During the dance show the tightening across my tummy was coming every 8 mins. We decided it was time to go to the hospital and see what was happening. I collected my daughter and asked my mum to take her home with her.

We were in the car park swapping car seats when my waters broke. It was 9.35pm. The pain became very intense which was quite a shock after what seemed like just a level of discomfort. We headed for the hospital and I remember being upset at the thought of a c-section.

It felt like a long walk to the labour ward, but within a minute of being there it was time to push and I was moved to a labour suite. One very bruised foot appeared within seconds and four pushes later came the rest of our baby (I had no time for screaming as the midwife firmly told me!).

My baby daughter was born at 9.52pm weighing 6lb 10ozs. She needed some help breathing and was transferred to the Special Care Baby Unit. We took her home 12 days later, which felt wonderful. There was no sign of the talipes which was brilliant news. It was apparently down to how her feet had been positioned. After a lot of worry and late night chats ( much to my husband's annoyance) about talipes, breech deliveries and c- sections, our breech baby had led the way and showed us all how it should be done!

Big sister still loves to tell the tale of how my 'fluid' came out at her dance show and that she won the 'bet' as she said the baby would be a girl!

 

HIS!

“I think we’d better go to hospital just in case” she said.

Sploosh……..her waters broke in the theatre car park.

“Don’t drive over any bumps” she demanded. Yeah, right like that’s going to happen I thought (keep mouth shut, it avoids argument).

No camera (my fault of course). Have we got time to divert? Play it safe. Get to the hospital first and then see if I have time to get it.

Gosh, that parking space at the hospital was a bit tight, wasn’t it?

Buzz. “Let us in, please”.

“Who are you? Have you phoned us to inform us you are coming?”

“No, too busy trying to avoid potholes to ring in.”

Bags in the shopping trolley, off we go.

“Knickers off”.

“It’s coming”.

My wife is on a bed and being wheeled to a delivery room. What do I do? Just don’t let go of that trolley, she’ll kill me if I lose her Radley handbag.

One, two, three, four (could’ve been more) people around my wife – that wasn’t on the ante-natal class – should be just me and a midwife. Oh well. I’ll just stand back and let them get on with it. I’ve got a good view after all.

“Aaaaghhh!”

“We’ll have no screaming in my delivery room, thank you”. (Good move to stand in the corner I’m thinking).

A foot, I can see a foot. There’s a leg. There’s a baby and it’s a girl.

And that’s brief rundown of the best moment of my life to date.

Thank you so much.

Emily's Birth Story

Emergency Caesarean after spontaneous rupture of membranes (SROM) and 40 hour labour ordeal

by Clare Perriss – Weymouth & Dorchester NCT

My birth story begins with being diagnosed with gestational diabetes at 34 weeks. I was referred to an Obstetrician specialising in gestational diabetes, and she was really great. I voiced my concerns and my preference for a natural birth and she was able to tell me what she honestly thought the risks were in our personal situation, and from there we made a plan.

Instead of the stock standard, "We'll induce you at 38 weeks," she compromised and said that she would like me booked in for induction at 39 weeks. I spoke to her about wanting to do what was possible to get my body prepared prior to induction so that I was given every chance that my baby would come without needing induction. A series of stretch and sweeps were scheduled leading up to the induction date. I also made arrangements to have some reflexology and moxibustion done around these dates.

I had my first session of reflexology/moxibustion just before 38 weeks, and it was wonderful - very relaxing, and I was given a moxa stick that I used at home also. I had my first stretch and sweep a couple of days later, at 38 weeks 1 day. The midwife came out with a show, and said she thought the cervix was quite soft, I was 1cm dilated and the baby was starting to engage. I was so excited! I thought that this could mean that my body and my baby were really getting ready to go and we would be able to avoid induction. That night, I started having more painful tightenings when I went to bed, and a few woke me up at night. However, they had stopped by morning.

My next stretch and sweep was at 38 weeks 4 days. The midwife informed me that I was 1-2cm dilated, and that things were looking very good. She came away with a good show, which continued during the day but stopped by the evening. I was very excited, and I said to my husband Stephen that I thought something might happen overnight. The next morning, 16th December, I woke up at about 7.15am to a very strong tightening, and feeling warmth on the sheets. I immediately knew what had happened - my waters had broken! I jolted out of bed as fast as was possible at 38+ weeks pregnant to avoid staining the bed too badly, and waddled over to the loo with my legs closed tight, leaving a dripping trail behind me!

I called the midwives at the hospital who said to come in and be monitored. Stephen helped me get ready, and off we went, a 45 minute drive to the hospital. I was a little nervous, but there was a calm about me as I knew this was it. Our baby was finally going to be here with us before too long. Stephen was calm, but I could tell he was nervous also.

I brought a number of towels and sat on these in the car, although it seemed that sitting down was the one thing that stopped the flow! By the time we arrived at the hospital, I had completely soaked through my tracksuit pants, and walking to the maternity ward only made matters worse. I arrived in maternity very clearly showing that my waters had broken, with dark patches almost down to my ankles! I was put on the montitor, and baby was doing very well.

I changed my tracksuit pants, and as the morning went on I continued to have irregular tightenings, some quite painful, others barely at all. Each time I had a tightening, a heap more fluid would leak, so I ended up going through another 3 pairs of underwear, a packet of maternity pads, and another pair of tracksuit pants! Stephen went into town to buy me some more, as I think he felt like he needed to do something. He came back with pyjamas, tracksuit pants, and even a new pair of lovely slippers!!

I spent a lot of that day walking briskly around the maternity ward and leaning on all fours over a chair, trying to help things along. I was excited and frustrated by equal measure, as I really thought things would have kicked off by that point. By afternoon, nothing was happening aside from the irregular tightenings, so a consultant came to talk to me.

I made sure they were aware that I wanted to give my body and baby a chance to start things naturally, and the consultant was pleased and happy for me to continue as I was, up to 72 hours after my membranes ruptured to avoid the risk of infection. We made a decision to stay in hospital at that point, as it was a long drive home and back again - I felt quite calm and safe in the hospital, having spent a bit of time there for tests and scans associated with the diabetes.

I asked to have the monitor put on that evening just so I could hear baby's heartrate for some reassurance before bed, and at about 8.30pm I was hooked up, and I settled down to listen to our baby for a while. After about 10-15 minutes where I had a couple of moderate tightening, as I’d had on and off all day, I suddenly got the most painful, prolonged contraction that lasted almost two minutes from start to end. It had me really groaning, and the midwife heard me from the next bed and came to check on me.

As she did, the monitor started beeping, and our baby's heartrate couldn't be picked up. She tried to find it, and eventually did on the other side of my stomach and it was very low. Panic stations. She pressed the buzzer and about six people came running in. I was a bit shellshocked and wondered what was happening. My baby's heartrate recovered, and everything settled down, but I was moved very quickly to a labour room and set up on the monitor in the new room.

Stephen had gone home for the night at about 7.00pm as nothing seemed imminent, but he was called back in as there were thoughts about whether our baby would need to be born quickly. He arrived around 10.30pm. Our baby had done a complete twist during that full-on contraction and we realised by the next morning she had moved posterior, with her back completely on the opposite side of my body to where it had been.

I was kept on the monitor for quite a while. Everything with baby went back to normal with her heartrate and eventually I was taken off the monitor. From that first initial very strong contraction at 8.30pm, every contraction I experienced after that was strong and I would need to breathe heavily through many of them. They were not coming anymore regularly than 6-7 minutes apart, so Stephen was advised to go get some rest, as was I.

Stephen went to his parents’ house at about 12.30am for some sleep as it was much closer than going home again. I had a very restless night as I was having hard contractions every 5-6 minutes that I often needed to get on all fours for, or lean over the bed - sitting in the chair or lying down was very uncomfortable. I could not sleep for more than a few minutes between contractions here and there. It was also proving very difficult to monitor the baby on and off overnight as it had moved into this posterior position and it was hard to keep track of its heartbeat consistently.

At about 5.30am it was suggested that an internal examination be done to see how things were going and to place a scalp monitor on. The internal showed I was 3cm dilated and only 70% effaced, so there was a long way to go, and the scalp monitor was placed but unfortunately wasn't giving any reading.

Stephen arrived at about 9.30am and I was still in early labour, still only having about 2 contractions in every 10 minutes or so. They were painful, and I was tired, but felt encouraged by the internal I had early in the morning. As the day went on, my contractions did not get any more frequent, but remained very painful. In fact, at times they would stop all together, particularly when I was moving about and not resting. Another internal showed that I was still 3cm dilated and not fully effaced. I was trying to relax, but was finding it more and more difficult.

By late morning the midwife who was looking after me started mentioning augmentation via a drip, as a different consultant who had seen me that morning was concerned about infection becoming a possibility as time went on. It had been more than 24 hours since my waters broke and active labour showed no signs of starting. I had a lengthy discussion about the pros and cons of going on the drip with the midwife and decided that if I hadn't made any more progress in a couple of hours that I would think about it properly. I had been sitting on a birth ball for hours, and at about midday an anaesthetist came in to insert a drip into my arm to give me some antibiotics and have everything prepared in case of induction.

In the meantime I had requested a TENS machine earlier in the morning as my contractions were getting progressively more and more painful. I was groaning through all of them, often rocking on the birth ball. If I moved around or got up and walked the contractions would stop until I was sitting back down again, except when I went to toilet and as soon as I sat down on the loo, I would have an awfully strong one!

I had not been allowed to eat breakfast, so I had not had any food since dinner the night before, and I asked to have some food and a shower to try and perk me up a little. The drip was taken off, TENS was unhooked, as well as the monitor and I had a shower after having a bite to eat. I thought it would help with the pain, but as soon as I was moving again the contractions stopped. The shower was lovely though - I felt refreshed.

I was hooked up again and I had another internal at 2pm, and this time I felt really disillusioned. I was still at exactly the same place as I had been at 5.30am. A new midwife shift had started and a wonderful, professional but sensitive and soft-spoken midwife was assigned to me. I voiced my concerns about augmentation again, and my fears about how painful it was going to get as I was already finding the contractions in non-established labour so painful. I wanted to do everything I could to avoid pain relief.

The midwife explained that the syntocinon would not make things more painful than they would get naturally in a progressed labour, it would just ramp up the intensity of how quickly they would get more painful. This made sense to me, even though I was really frightened of how much pain I could bare. At this point though, with her guidance and knowing that this midwife would look after me I agreed to go on the drip and everything was set up.

It took about an hour or so, but the contractions started to come on more frequently as the dose was slowly increased. I could not sit on the bed anymore, and moved back to the birthing ball, swinging around or leaning up against the bed with my elbows and head on my arms, bouncing away. I requested gas and air as the intensity increased. It took a few goes, but I got the hang of the gas and air quite quickly.

Eventually, I could not sit any longer through contractions and I started standing through them, swaying my hips and getting quite vocal! The gas and air like made me feel extremely ‘drunk’ which took me away from the pain and gave me some hallucinations at first. My awareness of time was going as I started to lose myself in the pain, being detached from it when the affects of the gas wore off. Stephen and the midwife were helping me to breathe deeply. I don't have much recollection of this at all.

The next thing I was aware of, I was on the bed having an internal with the midwife was trying to get me to focus on her and telling me "Clare, you're still only 3cm dilated". I was absolutely devastated. Even though I have very little memory of the time leading up to the internal, I do remember how much I was focusing and continuing to think this whole time, "Each contraction is dilating me and helping my baby to come. I can go through this as I am getting closer each time". And to find out that all the time on the drip had been for nothing and that I was going nowhere was the worst thing possible. I felt completely beaten. I think I was pretty desperate at this point, as I know I was convinced it was going to end with a caesarean, and I was asking for an epidural. Stephen tells me I was yelling a fair bit!

After my epidural was administered the midwife turned the syntocinon down as I was having contraction after contraction without pause, and it was too full on. As the contractions dropped in frequency I started to regain my awareness as I was having breaks in between using the gas and air. A consultant came to talk to me and said that we would give it another two hours to see what was going to happen, and then we would need to talk about the next option.

I started to feel less pain as the epidural took effect, but realised that it was only working on one side quite quickly. Still, it was much better than it had been - the pain was much more tolerable as it was taken away by half! I was tilted over to try and see if the drug would balance on the other side, but it did nothing. I had gone back to having about four contractions in 10 minutes, which seemed much more manageable than before.

The time until the consultant came back went by quickly, with a new midwife seeing to me, and when the consultant did an internal at 9.30pm she said I was 3-4cm dilated and she tried to attach another scalp monitor for the fourth time. I was exhausted and not taking things on board so well now. I was extremely emotional, I was still no further. We talked about caesarean and the consultant was very kind – I remember her taking my hand and saying to me, "Clare, you have done everything you possibly could to bring your baby into the world, now we need to give you a hand to finish it off. You should be so proud of how much you have done to this point." It helped me regain my composure, and we prepared for a caesarean and it was like a load was lifted from my shoulders.

The epidural was switched off, as well as the syntocinon and I shakily signed a consent form and we were off. Stephen held my hand until he had to get dressed up, and I was wheeled into theatre. The anaesthetist was so very kind and gentle, he said that he was going to replace the epidural with a spinal block and he was sorry that it had not worked correctly to begin with. I was crouched over for the second time, trying to stay still during my contractions (my own natural contractions were now very full on even with the syntocinon and epidural gone). Once the spinal block was in, it was like the sweetest relief I have ever felt. I felt no more contractions, after 26 hours of pain amounting to nothing and 40 hours since my waters first broke.

Stephen was seated at my head, never letting my hand go and the fear of what it would feel like to be cut open was quickly abated when it was all happening and I realised I could feel nothing. Before long - such a short time! – our baby was hoisted above the curtain at 10.46pm on Wednesday 17th December and Stephen and I saw her for the first time, all squishy-faced and red! It was a miracle!

Our baby was taken by the midwives and cleaned a little and wrapped before quickly being placed in Stephen's arms. He found out her sex for himself as we asked no one to tell us, and she made her first sounds in his arms – the sweetest most incredible sounds ever. We named her Emily Acacia there and then. The world narrowed down to myself, Stephen and our baby, and it was the most special, intimate and amazing experience of my life, all in front of a dozen busy people. I turned to my anaesthetist and said, "Thank you for looking after me" and he smiled so kindly. Everything was perfect.

The time for me to be stitched up went so fast. Before long I had my baby on my chest as I was being wheeled back to my room, and I made the biggest effort with a midwife pushing on my feet upwards to try and lever myself upright whilst still under the effect of the spinal block so I could let Emily attach to my breast. I was so determined, and we did it. The three of us were then left in private and our daughter and I had skin to skin contact for about 4 or 5 hours as I would not let her go. Stephen took lots of photos before he left to sleep at his parents’ again, at about 2.30am.

It turns out that Emily's neck was flexed - probably when she maneuvered in distress at the initial prolonged contraction I had the evening before her birth. This was why I did not progress - as her head was not in a position to help dilate my cervix properly, despite being on the drip. She was not an overly big baby as predicted (there was also talk of shoulder distocia during my labour ordeal – where babies shoulders are too big to fit through the pelvis) but she was our perfect girl who had a bit of a bumpy ride into this world.

As much of the evening of my augmented labour I have no memory of, I will never forget what holding my daughter was like for that first night. I did not sleep for the second night running as the adrenaline and joy of having her in our arms kept me going and I couldn't have been lighter or more on top of the world. Our daughter was here with us, after a big journey full of ups and downs to be here. All was well.

Difficult Birth - a Dad's Perspective

by Mark Bullows, Birmingham West NCT

I have had seven babies in total, only one of them was a normal birth. My eldest was diagnosed with a heart condition during pregnancy. Of the five I’ve had with Claire we lost our first due to prematurity and then went on to have four more premature births with Claire spending much of her pregnancies threatening to go into labour.

There are three that really stand out on the subject of a dad's perspective, my eldest son with his heart condition, my eldest surviving baby with Claire, and our youngest daughter who was Claire’s VBA2C (that’s vaginal birth after two sections).

When my first wife was 20 weeks pregnant with our first baby we went along for the scan - excited expectant parents like everyone else. Then we had that classic silent moment, where you know something is wrong. We went round to see my wife’s consultant and he explained that they thought they had found something wrong with the heart. He told us that there wasn’t anything we could do until the birth but they would run tests to investigate the extent of the problem. 

Throughout the remainder of the pregnancy, the hospitals looking after my wife and baby couldn’t do enough to make sure we were fully informed, answered every question we had. At 38 weeks they induced my wife, scheduled a theatre and had an ambulance on standby. When our son was born she had enough time to look at him before he was rushed off. I followed behind and got to the hospital with enough time to have some paperwork thrust at me to sign before he was taken into theatre. When they brought my son out of theatre and I got to see him properly for the first time I couldn’t believe what I was seeing: he was covered in tubes and wires. Despite how awful it all was, we felt prepared and were able to cope with it. I really have nothing but praise for the hospitals. 

Three babies later and despite what we’ve been through, me with my son and losing our first daughter, Claire and I were happy expecting another daughter. She had an easy pregnancy and we had no reason to think anything would go wrong. As she got to the late 20s Claire had started to track her Braxton Hicks. She didn’t get them often but they were quite strong and regular when she did. She even had an overnight stay because of them. So at 31 weeks when Claire went off to B&Q with her dad and a notebook and pen to write her Braxton Hicks in, we didn’t really think much of it. After an hour I got a call saying to get myself ready and be waiting with her green notes. 

Claire had had a scan that morning and had been having contractions during the scan which they’d said weren’t anything worrying, so we didn’t think they’d be too worried. They sent us around to the waiting room and gave her a sample pot. After Claire cried out during a contraction, one of the midwives came around and said “was that your pain?” and she got us straight into a delivery room. Even strapped onto the monitor, with a drip set up to stop the contractions and steroids already administered we didn’t think anything would come of it. We were laughing together, I’ve never been forgiven for coming back from the shop with a coat full of chocolate and drink and opening it as (Claire describes) like a dodgy watch salesman and asking if she wanted anything followed by “Oh you can’t can you? You’re nil-by-mouth!” 

After an hour the doctor came back to examine Claire to see if anything had changed. He just calmly said “we need to get this baby out now” and suddenly the room was full of people. Claire had her nail varnish cleaned, her jewellery removed, her drip capped off, three consent forms explained to her which she had to sign and her clothes changed for theatre, all at the same time. Neither of us really knew what was going on and, as it was a crash and she was having a general anaesthetic, all I could do was sit outside with her mum. I saw our daughter in passing as she was wheeled past on her way to the neonatal unit. They took a long time to do the operation and Claire took a long time to come round but no one explained what was happening or why things had gone like they did. Really my son’s birth should have been the hardest of the two, but the lack of information in this one made it the hardest. 

Claire went on to have another section under similar circumstances but slower and things felt better having already been there. 

Then Claire got pregnant again and she decided as it would be her last she was going to get a Doula and she would try VBAC. The team that Claire was under were brilliant, they were very supportive and came up with a plan that we were all happy with. We met some lovely people along the way who agreed with our decision and Claire felt confident going into the birth. Sadly on the day we had a team who were determined she wasn’t going to get the birth she wanted. There was a lot of shouting, they forced her into stirrups which she knew was bad for her because she has pelvis issues. The midwife and doula tried to stop them but they were yelling at me to hold my wife still. It’s very difficult as a man when you see the woman you love in distress but being told by medical staff that you need to do something that is going to make her worse. I wish I had understood better before the birth why she kept saying “Mark, remember, stirrups bad” because for a long time it has been a source of guilt for me, even though Claire says it’s unnecessary. Our daughter was born APGAR 9, pink and screaming after 6 minutes of unaided pushing. 

I know I could have done things differently to support Claire better and I think that would have helped how I felt afterwards, so here is my advice to expectant dads:

1. Take an interest, there’s a good chance she knows why she is saying what she’s wants.
2. Memorise her birth plan, get her to tell you what is non-negotiable, what you need to know about any health issues.
3. If you can, get a doula, as they’re an extra brain to remember these things and it’s their speciality anyway so it comes naturally to them. If you do get a doula, attend antenatal sessions with her too, you can work as an amazing team to support your partner if you do.
4. Don’t be scared to question the staff, if there genuinely is no time you will know it, but make sure they explain to you both afterwards. Don’t be scared to tell them no either, practice your best authoritative voice saying "She said no. She does not consent to that!" It is always the mother’s word that goes, even in birth and if she doesn’t want something done to her that’s her decision. 

I learnt a little acronym that helps: TBRAINS, it means:

• Time/ Talk: do we have time/ can we talk?
• Benefits: why do you want to do this?
• Risks: what could happen if you do that?
• Alternatives: what else can you do?
• Instinct: what does my instinct tell me (or hers, she even has the say over you, sorry)?
• Nothing: what if we do nothing and just wait to see what happens?
• Smile! It’ll help keep you calm, the staff are more likely to listen to you and calmness is good for a birthing mother as adrenaline can complicate the labour.

I highly recommend antenatal classes too. Claire dragged me to one when she was expecting our youngest. I’ve had 6 babies before, what can I learn from an antenatal class? Actually I found it really useful.

The last thing to remember, debrief afterwards, especially if the birth was particularly difficult. Whether that’s down the pub with your mates, your Doula, or you make an appointment to see a Supervisor of Midwives (amazing people, if doc says no, ask the SoM!) Don’t try to hide it from your partner either, you are in it together not separately, you don’t have to be strong for her, you need to be with her.

NCT’s Chief Executive Belinda Phipps said:
“NCT has campaigned for dads to have the choice to be with their partners at their babies’ birth. Of course they don’t have to be there – but it’s important that that they and their partners discuss this and decide what’s the best approach for them. 

“If fathers do decide to be present at the birth, they need to be prepared for it. What children learn about childbirth when growing up is inadequate at school and often misleading from the media so that it’s not surprising some men are shocked. Attending NCT classes with their partners can help dads be well informed ahead of the due date. 

“There is of course no need for birth to be shocking if parents are kept informed and well supported. But where parents are not prepared – either when not supported or as a result of today’s much increased medical intervention - there may be some trauma. Having a midwife you already know and trust is important - the NHS needs to ensure a familiar face is available to mother and father, and organise itself in a way that gives midwives time to care.”

Charlie's Birth Story

A tale of avoiding induction!

by Vicky Lane

Vale of Evesham NCT

Charlie arrived 3.5 weeks early, so I didn’t think the medical staff would be in a rush to induce me.  However, 12 hours after my waters started ‘leaking’, that was exactly their suggestion. 

Just a couple of weeks prior to Charlie’s early appearance, my mum casually said, “Of course, you were all early” (I’m one of 4) - which suddenly alerted me to the possibility of an early arrival.  I had also been very stressed at work trying to finish things and handover my work before starting maternity leave. 

As I went to bed at around midnight one Wednesday night, my waters started leaking.  To my deep distress, I thought I had suddenly become incontinent, which the midwife found very amusing when I phoned her the next morning!!  She suggested I phone the hospital and the hospital suggested I should go in, even though nothing else had happened.

Once there, I was examined and found to be not dilated at all.  The doctor then said that, since it had been 12 hours since my waters first broke, and as nothing was happening, they would have to induce me.

At this point the NCT classes really came into their own – the one about engaging your brain and asking questions.  My husband, Jason, went into super-questioning mode and managed to discover that the 12 hour time limit was just the policy of that particular hospital; it would be different if I were in a different area.  He also remembered that NICE recommended waiting considerably longer before they considered the ‘increased risk of infection’ to be a problem.

So the consultants agreed to leave it until later and see if I went into labour, but I was told that I should now remain in the hospital.  A monitor was strapped onto my tummy and I spent the rest of the day feeling ‘tightenings’, watching the print out and phoning my boss to tell him he’d had all the handover he was going to get. 

Jason rang Clare, our NCT teacher, for advice – were we doing the right thing?  She was very reassuring and said if all was well with the baby, and we were happy, there was no reason to be induced yet – NICE recommended 72 hours could elapse after waters breaking before the need to be induced. 

The evening came without any new developments.  I had seen the doctors a few more times during the day, had again been offered to be induced, and had again graciously declined their kind offer.  Funnily enough, once it got past about 4.30pm they stopped chasing me. We agreed that if nothing had happened by the morning, I would be induced.

Clare had suggested keeping things as normal as possible.  So, to take our minds off things, we went out to dinner to a Thai restaurant in town – thought we would try the spicy food theory!  It was lovely as it got me out of the hospital and gave us a sense of normality and helped us both to relax.

At 8am the next morning a midwife from the delivery unit arrived and said, ‘You’re being induced today, I’m here to take you to the delivery ward.’  I hadn’t expected this quite so early, so again said I would prefer to wait.  I also felt things were starting to move (at least my bowels had!).  I also said I wanted to wait until my husband arrived!  She looked a little taken aback and said she would need the agreement of the doctor. 

After another examination – 1cm dilated – ‘That’s good isn’t it?’  (pitying look) ‘No’ – they finally agreed to wait a little longer.  The midwife then suggested quietly that if I didn’t want to be induced, I should walk – and walk.  She also said did I know there was a country park nearby?  The entrance was just opposite the car park exit – a nice little wood to walk around. 

So, when Jason turned up, that’s what we did.  There’s also a great café there which does wonderful hot chocolate and bacon butties!  I had to have regular checks with the midwife to check the baby’s heartbeat so we kept returning, but once the check was over, off we went again.  As my sister in law had said to us, ‘if they can’t find you, they can’t induce you! 

At one of the checks I was asked where the mud on my shoes had come from.  When I explained, I was told quite sternly that I shouldn’t leave the hospital grounds as that was effectively discharging myself!! So we assured them we wouldn’t do it again, and next time wiped our feet more thoroughly when we returned.   When it got dark at around 4pm we explored the hospital.

By 5pm I felt I was having quite definite contractions but was told they weren’t anything serious (funny how people not having them can tell how ‘minor’ they are!!).  I felt like I had walked a marathon and was exhausted and suggested we give up and have a good night’s rest and agreed that they could induce me in the morning.

At that point, the contractions REALLY started to hurt and Jason (who had actually read the instructions) suggested we ‘deploy the TENS machine’.  At 8pm, still on the antenatal ward, it was time for visitors to leave.  I didn’t want Jason to go but didn’t want to move to delivery as I felt there was still some time to go and was worried they would start clock watching.  So the really lovely midwives moved some beds around and let us have the day time waiting room which meant I wasn’t on a ward (although there were beds there if I wanted them) and so Jason could stay.  All those chocolate muffins he’d brought in for the midwives had paid off!!

We were then left alone, apart from occasional checks on the baby’s heartbeat.  I had a huge room to roam around in, and roam I did.  Jason turned the lights down low so it was just dimly lit.  He got worried when I went completely silent (not something I’m known for) until he again remembered the NCT classes and stopped trying to chat to me.  He was brilliant at pushing my back when the contractions came and when, at about 11pm, the combined efforts of Jason and the TENS machine stopped working and I groaned, “I need mooorrrrree!”, he called the midwife who decided it was time to finally move to the delivery suite.

 

I don’t remember much more about it after that – I think there was a minor argument about the gas and air – Jason and the midwife trying to tell me to not to use so much or I might be sick.  I glared at them and carried on sucking.

At 1.06 am Charlie made his entrance into the world.  And it was just wonderful.  I felt elated and brilliant and awe struck and in love with everyone. 

Pity we’d left all my bags in the antenatal waiting room and all Charlie’s things in the freezing car! 

So, our top tips for not being induced are:

• Question if the need is real or just local policy
• Gen up on NICE guidelines and be prepared to defend your decisions
• If they can’t find you, they can’t induce you!  Stay close by but keep out of the way. 
• Keep walking, and walking and walking (and don’t forget to wipe your feet!)
• Speak to your NCT teacher if you want support – they are always happy to talk things through
• Remain pleasant with the midwives but be clear about what you want

 And Jason still thinks it was mostly down to his chocolate muffins!

Abi’s Birth Story

A tale of IVF success

by Jo Turner

“She really is a miracle” they say to me.  While many new parents think this of their own children this was my consultant obstetrician explaining my caesarean to me in recovery and why it took so long to get me there after giving birth to my daughter.  This all started with a visit to my GP and then referral to the IVF clinic.

7 February 2008

“Do you mind if we talk about your sperm with my sister?” I ask my husband.  An unusual question I grant you and one I never imagined asking.  However, we have just seen the consultant at the IVF clinic and my sister is coming to see us tonight and she is training to be an embryologist (at a different clinic I will add!).  We know this is the start of what could prove to be a long and expensive process but we both hope it will be successful.

30 April 2008

It is 6am in the morning. After years of trying for a baby my husband, Ben, and I have decided to try IVF and we are waiting for the pregnancy test to tell us if we have been successful from the first cycle.  After hours, okay maybe just 2 minutes, we look and the test is negative.  I am so disappointed and refuse to believe it despite knowing IVF so often does not work, particularly not first time.  Having tried to get pregnant for some time, I have a few pregnancy tests to hand and I try again.  After 4 further tests we conclude that we are pregnant: the test we received from the IVF clinic took 8 minutes to change but it did eventually also say I was pregnant.  Shock, excitement and nerves set in.  But, being IVF, this is very early in the pregnancy and many people still miscarry at this point in time. We cannot get too excited. 

16 May 2008

It is the date of our first scan.  As we had IVF we have a scan at 6 weeks (included in the ridiculous high price we paid).  We will know for sure if our little bundle of cells we saw 2 weeks ago is still hanging in there and is starting to grow.  We sit at the IVF clinic with other nervous couples.  I have had 8 scans during the IVF process, and I was nervous before each but this is something different, will we get to see our future child?  Eventually we are shown in.  And all of a sudden, there on the screen is a blinking dot.  “That is the heart” says the sonographer.  Can you fall in love with something that looks like a mouse cursor on your computer? Well I did!  However, only being 6 weeks pregnant we need to keep the news to ourselves and a few close family and friends for a while. 

11 June 2008

Just as I am going to bed I notice I am bleeding.  Terrified, we call the midwife team.  They try to calm me down and say that the amount of blood does not sound that much and to try and sleep and, if I am still bleeding tomorrow, phone again.  “Sleep,” they say. “As if,” I think.  However, after a few hours of sleeplessness I finally drop off.  But when I wake in the morning I am still bleeding.  The midwife team are great and get me an appointment in the afternoon at the Early Pregnancy Unit.  Luckily my husband can rearrange meetings and arrives at the hospital just in time to come in with me.  The sonographer quickly scans me and reassures us that everything looks okay.  I burst into tears with relief.  After seeing the doctor to be told that bleeding is “just one of those unknowns”, we are sent home. 

I continue to bleed a little throughout the whole of my pregnancy, never as much as these few hours on this day but more than I would expect, and each time I see a health professional, I am told that it is “just one of those unknowns”.

25 June 2008

It is the day of our 12-week scan.  I seem to have had so many scans already but this is the first ‘over belly’ one and I am not sure what to expect – other than what I have seen on TV and films.  It is weird sitting in the waiting room seeing all these pregnant woman and finally feeling that I should hopefully be like that soon.  Our hospital offer the combined test for Down’s Syndrome.  The fluid at the back of the baby’s neck is fine from the nuchal translucency scan but we need to wait for the blood test to be certain.  This comes back within 2 weeks and we are at low risk.  Getting through the first trimester is a great relief and I start to try and enjoy the pregnancy more and worry less.

14 August 2008

We go to see the consultant obstetrician today.  Mixed news, my pre-existing medical condition should have no impact on our baby (which I knew as I had researched this beforehand) but I may need to have a caesarean to ensure that my blood pressure does not rise too high (which will interfere with my condition).  I am told to talk to the anaesthetist and my neurologist and then come back to discuss the final plan.  But otherwise I do not need any special care at the moment.  

I have spoken to someone in the past and knew that I might need to give birth via caesarean. However, I am still slightly disappointed as I really wanted to give birth naturally.

28 August 2008

My 21-week scan today and the panic I had at the start of my pregnancy of something going wrong seems to have eased (most of the time at least) and I am excited as we go to the scan.  Everything seems to be in place and working as it should be, but the measurements show our baby to be a bit small.  Nothing to worry about we are told, come back in 5 weeks for another scan.  The sonographer does not seem concerned, and I am thinking that a small baby might not be so bad to give birth to!

29 September 2008

We have our extra scan today and, while our baby is still quite small, the blood flow in the brain and belly is good which means that everything is growing as it should.  We do not need to return for any more scans.  I am very conscious that my bump seems quite small but so long as everything is okay with our baby it does not really matter that I look more fat than pregnant still.

November 2008

First NCT class held tonight.  The other people are really nice and I am looking forward to getting to know them better.  We are all due within a month of each other and it is nice to chat to people going through the same things as me.  However, I am even more conscious that my bump is very small.

27 November 2008

We have already been to see the anaesthetist and my neurologist, and they both say that as my pre-existing condition fairly under control now, they see no problem for having a natural birth.  I am hoping that the consultant obstetrician we are seeing today agrees.

After a long wait we are eventually shown into a room.  My blood pressure is taken by the nurse and my bump is measured.  I am still feeling positive at this point.  But then the doctor says that he has concerns.  For some reason, even though I know what he is saying is really important, I am struggling to listen and concentrate.  “You are measuring very small”, “higher than expected blood pressure”, “problem with urine sample”, “pre-eclampsia”, “baby very small due to lack of nutrients” are all mentioned.  The key point is to come back tomorrow to the Day Assessment Unit where more tests will be carried out.  Following that, they want me back next week for more scans.

We head home quite numb.  I had hoped to be talking about caesareans or natural birth but now I am terrified that there is something wrong with our baby.  My husband tries to keep me calm, as we are told I need to do this, but it is difficult.

28 November 2008

Back to the hospital for further tests.  The nurses who run the Day Assessment Unit are lovely and take a lot of time to explain what and why they are doing.  After a few hours we leave relieved.  I do not have pre- eclampsia.  My blood pressure does calm down through the 15 minute obs that were done; it is raised but nothing serious.  There is no problem with the urine.  The monitoring of the movements of our baby show that there is a lot of movement as is expected.  The nurse agrees that my bump is a little small but she does not think it is anything to worry about.  We go home and celebrate, a peppermint tea for me though!  We still need to go back for another scan next week but as I do not have pre- eclampsia I am calming down and will take it as another opportunity to see our baby before the birth.  Baby is still in breach though, as it has been at many of these appointments.  I vow to do all the exercises I can to turn the baby to the correct position, I still am very keen not to have a caesarean.

4 December 2008

My husband was not sure if he could change his meetings at work so my mum comes with me for the scan; she is very excited as for her three pregnancies scans were only available if you had difficulties so she never saw one.  As we are waiting to be called through my husband turns up, hurrah.

We are shown into the scan room and the sonographer does his work.  We are immediately told that our baby is still in breach; “Darn,” I think.  Looking at the screen I can tell that there is very little growth since last week.  We are then told that the measurements they have would usually indicate (1) the dates are wrong, but as this is IVF this cannot be the case or (2) the parents are very small, but as my husband is 6’7” and I am about 5’6” this is not the case; as their 2 possibilities are ruled out there would appear to be a problem.

All three of us sit there in shock while we wait for a consultant to come in and explain things.  After discussions we leave the hospital with information on ECV (external cephalic version, where the baby is turned manually into a head-down position) and caesareans.  We are told that our baby will be delivered before Christmas (due date is 7 January).  Finally we are told to come back on Monday for a consultant sonographer to perform his assessment and to go back to the Day Assessment Unit for more monitoring.  Dazed, confused and scared we leave the hospital and head home.

6 December 2008

I wake up early in the morning and am conscious that I have felt no movements; usually it’s the baby that wakes me.  I decide I must be imagining it given the stress of the last couple of days and try to relax.  After an hour I wake my husband and together we try all of our tricks to get the baby to move – playing music, shining a light, prodding.  Still nothing.  After another hour and half we phone the hospital and are told to come in.

I expect to be treated like a hysterical woman but the team are really supportive.  I sit in a labour room attached to the monitors and immediately hear our baby’s heart beat.  Relief once again floods through me.  With that the baby starts kicking like a football pro.  We are left in the room for over an hour to listen to the heartbeat and feel reassured.  I cannot thank the team enough for letting us take our time.

It is at the point that I think the ECV is not something I want to do.  Why put extra stress on our baby to move into the correct position.  I am certain now that we will have a caesarean.

8 December 2008

The monitoring in the Day Assessment Unit goes well.  Other than being small the tests are fine.  We head down to the scanning room.

After lying there to have many more measurements taken we are told that the baby does not appear to be growing which is likely to be due to it not receiving enough nutrients and are advised to consider delivering our baby early so that nutrients can be given via milk or a drip.  The sonographer heads off to talk to a consultant obstetrician and comes back with the news that they recommend our baby is delivered on Thursday by caesarean.   As we are only at almost 36 weeks and our baby is quite small we should be prepared that we might need the Special Care Baby Unit.  We stay at hospital for the next 3 hours to be taken through the procedures that will happen, filling in forms and having steroid injections (to help further develop the lungs).

I ask if we will know why our baby stopped growing and I am told that it is unlikely we will ever know.  Once again it is “just one of those things”.  I worry that all my worry has caused this, stress at work, etc.  But my husband tells me to stop thinking like that.

We head home and then go shopping.  We are almost ready but all the clothes I have bought are for a big baby (7+lbs) as both my husband and I were about 8lb.  We buy the smallest baby clothes we can find and they are really tiny.  I cannot believe that in less than 72 hours we will have our baby.

The next day I finish work, as planned.  My friends cannot believe I am there to finish up given our news but it helps to take my mind off Thursday.  I am still in shock that we will be parents in less than 48 hours.

The next day we also have our final NCT class and tell everyone our news.  They all seem as shocked as us.  Everything we learnt will soon be put into practise.

On Wednesday I have my one day of maternity leave.  As well as ensuring the hospital bags are packed, I get presents sorted for Christmas.  I have already bought them but have not wrapped any.  I decide not to write any Christmas cards as I run out of time, people will understand I hope.

11 December 2008

It is so weird driving to hospital knowing that I am going to give birth.  I pay attention to everything we drive past and I seem to be looking at everything in a slightly detached way but with lots of clarity.  Take That’s “Greatest Day of My Life” plays on the radio and I start to cry.

Despite being 6:30am when we arrive, the hospital is starting to wake up.  We are shown to the post operative ward and my husband and I get dressed.  At about 8am we walk together with the midwife pushing a bassinet to the theatre.  I did not imagine this is how I would be in the hour before our baby’s birth but I am curiously relaxed.

In theatre we are warned that the metal on the large lights is like a mirror so we might not want to look at it!  I vow not to look there.  After ensuring that I cannot feel anything the operation starts.  Very quickly I feel some pulling in some stomach area and my husband is told to get the camera ready.  And all of a sudden over the divide appears our daughter, tiny, covered in blood but making a very small crying noise.  She is rushed away by the paediatrician to be checked over.  My husband looks torn, stay with me or go over and see her.  I tell him to go to her.  I lie there craning my neck to see what is happening.  We are told that she is fine.  She weighs 4lb 12oz which is larger than they were expecting, and at the moment all tests have been passed so she does not need to go to Special Care.  She is wrapped up and I am finally given her to hold.

At this point I am not conscious of anything else going on around us.  But through the fog of what I am feeling while holding my daughter for the first time I am sure I hear the words “get another consultant” and “placenta”.  I ignore it and carry on looking at my husband and daughter while the midwife takes photos of us.  The anaesthetist then asks if my husband would mind taking some photos.  This curious question brings us both out of our haze.  Why do they need photos?

We notice that the room now has more people in it, like that was possible given the vast quantity already needed for a caesarean I think!  The anaesthetist explains that the placenta has grown in an unusual area and they need photographic evidence as it is very rare.  The other consultant had been called in to verify that had been seen.  Photos are taken and the medical team are discussing things between themselves, but Ben and I cannot take our eyes off our daughter after being told I am okay.

In recovery, our consultant who performed the caesarean comes to check on us.  It is then we are told that I had a Cornual Ectopic pregnancy and they do not understand how our daughter has managed to survive until 36 weeks.  “It is a miracle she is here at all, I am not aware of any other babies who have survived” the consultant says.  It is at this point in time I realise how special our daughter is.  She has battled through a lot to get to us.  During my stay in hospital we speak to the consultant and her team a few times and sign forms to allow our notes to be shared more widely, with the possibility of publishing this rare event in the medical press.

We cannot decide on a name immediately but by the following morning we have chosen Abigail Grace, or Abi.  She is the smallest baby on the ward.  The midwives are surprised that a baby so small does not need to be in Special Care but the paediatrician has been happy with her progress.  I am disappointed that I cannot breastfeed Abigail.  I keep trying but she cannot latch on.  For 2 days we fed her with a cup as I did not want to use a bottle.  But the team were concerned that she got enough food and nutrients and encouraged me to use a bottle.  The very small amount of breast milk that I express is added to formulae and she is fed in a bottle on day 3. 

We stay in hospital for 5 days, and I am itching to get home when we are discharged.  However, when we walk through the front door the reality of what has happened really hits home.  There are so many reasons why Abi should not be with us but she is home and we are a family.

Eventually, after a month of persevering I manage to get Abi to regularly breastfeed.  The local breastfeeding clinic run by the hospital was fantastic.  Abi is still tiny but is doing well.

Three Years On

By the time Abi turned one, she was just over the 50% mark for her weight.  So many people told me that small babies catch up and I did not believe them at the time but Abi is proof they were right.  She is almost 3 now and is a very determined little girl at times, which is tough but then I think what a fighter she needed to be here with us and try to take a breath (and to be honest, that does not always work and I still get cranky, which as I write this makes me annoyed at myself).  She is hitting all the development milestones as she should and looking at her and her friends you would not now know the drama that surrounded her in-utero phase.