"There is such a thing as too much information!" - Ian, my Father In Law.

I had a miscarriage in December 2000 and spent from then until I got pregnant again worrying.  I worried that I’d never be able to have children, that if I got pregnant again I’d miscarry, that if I managed to carry a baby to term it would be deformed or disabled, and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to shake these worries until I had a baby and it was safe and healthy in my arms.  

We started trying to conceive in August 2001.  I was so certain I was pregnant on that first attempt.  My period was over a week late so I went and bought a two-pack of pregnancy tests.  They both showed up negative, so of course I assumed that they were faulty!  I went and bought another two-pack, which also showed up negative.  They were the same brand of test from the same chemist, so I figured they came from the same batch and must also be faulty.  So I bought a different brand, which also came up negative.  

My sister phoned me to tell me she was pregnant, due late April.  She said she was only 5 weeks pregnant, and her urine tests showed negative but blood tests showed positive.  Her doctor was worried that the pregnancy may be ectopic, and sent her in for an ultrasound.  As soon as I heard this I started freaking out, certain that I also had an ectopic pregnancy.  I went to the doctor and asked for a blood test.  He said he didn’t think I was pregnant and recommended that I lose weight as being overweight can effect your fertility.  The blood tests came back negative (of course) and I got my period the next day.  (My sister did not have an ectopic pregnancy, by the way, and had a lovely baby girl called Ebony in April of 2002).  

We kept trying to get pregnant and it finally worked on the fourth attempt, due date July 27, 2002 .  We decided to tell our families and the closest friends, but not our workmates or anyone else until we’d gotten to at least 12 weeks.  I’d miscarried at 12 weeks last time and told the whole world about my pregnancy , so I felt like I’d jinx myself if I went and told too many people about it this time.  

My pregnancy went fine – everything was so totally normal and by the book that it did give me some confidence.  I had “Afternoon Sickness” instead of morning sickness; at about 5 each afternoon I’d start feeling sickly.  This was annoying but it worked out well for work, as I didn’t miss a day due to morning sickness, as it would start coming on after I’d finished for the day.  The ultrasound scan at 18 weeks was fine, the radiologist guessed the due date to be July 25, which meant the baby was growing according to schedule.  The baby had all ten fingers and toes, a heart, two kidneys ( Lincoln only has one kidney and so does his maternal Grandfather so we were pleased that our baby had both of them), a brain, stomach, all of the correct bits.  We didn’t want to know the sex and the radiologist never asked if we wanted to, and referred to the baby as “bub”.  

I got larger and larger and one of the women at work kept saying, “Your baby is going to be huge!”  I was pleased when my tummy stuck out further than my boobs, because it made me feel pregnant.  I loved feeling the baby kicking, and it was a very active bub.  It also got the hiccups a lot, which felt very strange.  

Our childbirth classes were a lot of fun and we got to meet other people in the same situation as us.  Our neighbourhood doesn’t have many people our age, so it was nice to meet people who were about our age and going through the same thing as us.  

I finished work with 6 weeks to go and spent them sleeping and visiting family and friends in Brisbane.  

On Sunday, July 28, I started to feel funny period-like pains.  At about 4.30 in the afternoon I thought, “Hang on, is this labour?”  I went and told Lincoln that I thought I might be in labour and I didn’t feel like eating dinner, would it be okay if I just made bacon and eggs?  Lincoln offered to cook, I only wanted an egg on toast.  Lincoln later told me that if I was in labour and word got out that he made me cook dinner while labouring, then he’d never live it down.  

I hadn’t been able to reach comfortably to shave my legs for some time and I’d previously asked Lincoln to shave my legs for me that night, so we did.  Each time I had a contraction he’d stop so I could breathe through it.  Then I lay on a doona in front of the heater watching television.  We still weren’t sure if this really was labour and as I was still able to talk through my contractions, we weren’t in too much of a hurry to get to hospital.  Lincoln timed my contractions for me, which he wrote in a notebook.  He had columns drawn up marked, “Time started”, “Duration”, “Time since last contraction” and “Comments”.  Contractions were coming 7 or so minutes apart, and some of them were light so I didn’t know if it was a contraction or not.  At the classes they said that real contractions (as opposed to Braxton Hicks) get more intense and closer together.  With these strange less painful contractions, we still weren’t sure if this was the real thing.  

At about 10 pm I felt the need to throw up and made it in time to the toilet.  I didn’t feel sick and I didn’t feel gross afterwards like I do when I vomit through illness, but I lost the lovely egg on toast Lincoln made for me.  Lincoln duly wrote “Vomit” in the “Comments” column of his notebook.  

At about 11 pm I went to the toilet and passed some mucous streaked with blood.  I’d had what I thought was a show several weeks before, but now I realised that this was the show.  My contractions were getting more painful and closer together, about 5 or 6 minutes.  Lincoln rang the hospital and told them about the contractions and the blood, the male midwife who took the call said that the blood sounded normal, and it sounded like this was it, so we should come in, especially as we lived so far out of town (about a 30 minute drive).  He said it didn’t sound like the baby was coming any time that soon, so take our time coming in.  Lincoln had a shower and I got dressed, and finished packing up my bag.   Lincoln also packed a bag with his camera, some thongs (in case he got into the shower with me at the hospital) and a book (in case things got quiet!  Hah!).  We left at about 12.30 am .  My car wouldn’t start as it was a very cold night, so we had to take Lincoln’s ute, which was very uncomfortable.  We got to the hospital at about 1 am and in the two hours since we left my contractions got closer and closer together and started hurting more.  We didn’t bother timing them after we had called the hospital.  Lincoln left his bag in the car and carried my bag into the hospital.  A midwife, Elizabeth walked with us to the labour ward.  Another midwife, Judy, came into the labour room with us, and asked about the contractions.  Lincoln said they’d been 5 or 6 minutes apart.  But I was having them much closer together now, Judy noticed, about 2 or 3 minutes, and instead of breathing through them, I’d started making grunting noises, and saying, “Muh! Muh!  Muh!” through the contraction.  Lincoln thought I was trying to say, “Mum”, like I was calling for my mother, but I told him later that that was about the only sound I could make.  

Judy examined me and found that I was 4 centimetres dilated.  We were very happy to hear this.  Lincoln said, “That’s almost half way!”.  Judy also said that the baby was in a posterior presentation, meaning its back was up against my back.  This can sometimes cause the labour to go more slowly.  I asked for some pethidine, which I was given almost immediately.  The pethidine did not reduce the intensity of the pain, but it made me almost fall asleep between contractions, so I was able to totally relax.  I actually forgot that I was in labour between contractions, and it surprised me when I started another one.  During this stage of labour I was lying on my side, which felt the most comfortable for me.  I kept swapping from one side to the other.  I had thought I might want to get in the bath or the shower, but I didn’t feel like moving in between contractions.  Judy asked me to go the toilet and urinate in a cup, but I couldn’t make anything come out.  She also kept trying to take my blood pressure but the machine kept malfunctioning and each time it started working again I’d have another contraction.  She tried to take it manually but didn’t get an accurate reading because the contractions were coming so fast.   

We could hear a woman in the other labour room giving birth; at about 2.30am we heard a baby crying.  My doctor delivered the baby, so after he finished with her he came in to examine me.  He then went and had a sleep somewhere in the hospital and came back at about 4.00 am .  By this time I was in lots of pain.  I was grabbing Lincoln and staring into his eyes during the contractions and making very loud grunting noises.  I was trying to be louder than the pain, and I think it helped.  Poor Lincoln didn’t know how to help me, so I told him that just having him there was all I needed him to do.  He got the nitrous oxide gas machine set up for me, but it did nothing for me; it just felt like I was breathing in normal air, so I threw the mouthpiece across the room in frustration.  

At 4.00 am when Dr Beek came back to examine me, he said I was 9 centimetres dilated.  9 cm!  Lincoln and I couldn’t believe it.  My sister had a very long first labour, so we were thrilled that everything seemed to be going so quickly.  The baby had turned around so that it was no longer in a posterior presentation.  Dr Beek broke my waters, and I soon felt the urge to push.  Later, I learned that Dr Beek had said to Judy, “It’s a big baby, I think I’ll have to do an episiotomy”.  Judy said to him, “You go home, have a shower and think about it, and we’ll call you when the time comes”.  I love midwives!  I’m so glad that Judy tried to convince Dr Beek not to cut me.  After Dr Beek had gone, I told Judy I felt like pushing, and she examined me to make sure the baby’s head was clear of the cervix.  It was, so I pushed.  Judy put a beanbag on the bed, and I squatted facing it.  Between contractions I would lean forward and rest into it, during contractions I’d get back on my haunches and push.  Nothing in my life hurt as much as these contractions.  I couldn’t speak, all I could do was grunt and groan and scream.  Because everything had so far progressed so quickly, Judy said she didn’t expect this second stage (actually pushing the baby out) to last more than half an hour.  Lincoln and I kept saying to each other between contractions, “The baby’s almost here!”.  I had asked Lincoln to keep reminding me during the labour about the baby because I had read that some women totally forget what they’re working for because the pain is so intense.  At one stage I felt inside my vagina and could feel the baby’s head – that made me happy.  

Although Judy thought the second stage wouldn’t take long, she didn’t count on the size of the baby.  It was a tight squeeze.  I also now don’t think I was pushing effectively to begin with; I was just pushing but not with the right muscles, and the effort was being wasted.  Judy asked me to try standing up and pushing, which I did for one contraction but I didn’t like the way it felt and got back on the bed in between contractions.  I pushed in the squatting position for some time until Judy examined me again.  I was on my back for her to examine me, and afterwards I rolled on to my side and continued pushing that way until the baby was born.  At first the second midwife, Elizabeth, held my leg in the air during contractions, then Lincoln took over.  We had always thought he would be at my end during the birth, but he was up the business end and could see everything.  

Eventually the baby’s head could be seen at the opening of my vagina.  Judy held up a mirror so I could see.  I thought it would all happen quickly after that, but it took another hour and a half of pushing until the baby was born.  All up, nearly three hours of pushing.  

Judy gave me some really good advice on how to push.  She asked me to put my chin down and push out through my bottom.  I could feel the difference and could feel the baby’s head coming through.  But each time I finished pushing, the baby’s head would go back almost to where it was at the beginning of the contraction.  It was slow going, and I felt like nothing was happening and I’d be in labour forever.  Judy then asked me to push hard, then hold the baby to where I pushed it with my muscles and keep pushing.  Then in between contractions, hold the baby in place with my muscles.  This was very difficult to do, but I tried.  I still felt like nothing was happening.  I started crying, “I can’t!  I can’t do it!” between contractions.  Judy replied, “Yes you can!  You’re doing great!”  And as another contraction came on I’d groan, “Oh, no!  No no no!”  I begged Judy to call Dr Beek and tell him to come in and give me an episiotomy.  I’d always been against then before, but at the time it felt like the greatest idea in the world.  Judy kept saying that Dr Beek would be there soon.  

I pushed a bit more and Lincoln said, “Honey, there’s only a little bit to go!  I can see the baby’s head is nearly out!”  I didn’t feel like I could do it, but as the next contraction came I screamed, “Get out!  Get out!” to the baby and pushed with all my might.  Suddenly I felt the wonderful sensation of the baby’s head being at the “point of no return”.  Its head was halfway out and I knew it wouldn’t go back in.  I gasped, “The baby’s nearly here!”  I could hardly believe it.  Some women say that at this point they feel a burning sensation, but I don’t remember feeling anything but relief.  Judy now told me not to push, so that the contraction alone would push the baby’s head out, hopefully so I wouldn’t tear.  Judy later told me I had really good control during this part.  It wasn’t hard – pushing seemed to make it all hurt worse, so not pushing wasn’t a problem.  Dr Beek arrived back while the head was being delivered.  He asked me to push to deliver the rest of the baby, and I thought, “Oh, this is going to be the easy part!” and I gave an almighty shove, then a cry when I felt myself tear.  The baby’s shoulders had torn me!  Dr Beek said, “It’s a Jurriaan!” (his first name is Jurriaan).  Lincoln said, “It’s Henry!”  I couldn’t believe it.  I had thought all through the pregnancy that I’d be having a girl – I was so surprised that it was a boy!  During the labour Judy kept referring to the baby as “he”, and I felt like telling her, “No, it’s a girl!”  Good thing I didn’t!  

Henry was blue when he was first born, and wasn’t breathing yet.  Lincoln said his heart dropped to his stomach when he saw that – he thought Henry was dead.  Then in a few seconds Henry breathed and made a noise and even did a wee.  They wrapped him up and handed him to me to look at – he was adorable.  Lincoln then held him while I was stitched up.  I couldn’t believe that I’d produced this little baby.  He was gorgeous.  3980 grams (8lb 13), 54cm long, 37cm around the head.  And all ours. 

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