So, here we are. The birth story.
I feel like you always hear about bad birth experiences. Society is flooded with stories of how things didn’t go to plan and it ended with trauma- I hope that this positive experience brings some hope and light back into birth and delivery.
As you read, please know that I believe that all forms of are miraculous and amazing! Every Mother is incredible - no matter how you brought your baby into the world .
YOU ARE A FREAKING BOSS ASS MUMMAH!
My story actually begins about a week prior to the actual birth.
We knew from early on that I would not be going over 39 weeks due to my gestational diabetes.
In the last few weeks before delivery my blood glucose levels began to be what they call "uncontrollable" . By the end I was on 4 lots of insulin per day with little to no success of controlling them.
My fluid levels started to become dangerously high and my baby was measuring big.
One of the main concerns they had was that the belly was measuring bigger than the head. Which apparently can cause the baby to get stuck from the difference in size.
All of these factors were brought to our attention at my 37 week midwife appointment.
We went for a check-up and left with an induction date. Our obstetrician explained all the concerns and told us it was best for all parties to be induced in 1 week. Now, yes we knew I would not go over 39 weeks but, being induced a week earlier?!! That wasn’t something we were really prepared for.
In the grand scheme of things a week difference is not much but, when you are preparing for your first baby it feels enormous.
Our appointment was on a Wednesday and I was to go in to have a Stretch and Sweep on the Monday, and if that didn’t bring on labour I would be admitted the Wednesday for a full induction on the Thursday. (For those that don’t know what’s a stretch and sweep is I pray that you never have to. It’s where they break your membranes manually).
After this appointment we went into WTF mode. Could we do this? Were we ready?
We were actually going to have a baby. In our arms. In a week or less?!!! That is insane.
The anticipation and nerves were overwhelming.
We decided we would only be telling immediate family and our bosses about our date. This way we could (try) to keep the nerves and enquiries to a minimum and they could arrange interstate travel.
The next week consisted of us stressing, being excited, finalising our name options and LOTS of dates. We acted as if our lives were going to be over. We went out to eat basically every night and I finally let myself succumb to wearing track pants in public. (This was a revelation I wish I came to earlier in pregnancy). Literally no one cares what you wear when you are THAT pregnant.
Monday came and so did my stretch and sweep. I knew it would hurt but I underestimated how much. Tom likes to refer to it as the “ol glove and shove” and that is probably the most accurate explanation of it I have ever heard. My cervix had not started to soften or shorten yet so, it was unlikely that this would start labour.
For the next 2 days I walked like a cowgirl, had period like pains and was more uncomfortable than I had ever been.
Soon it was Wednesday and with no signs of labour I was headed into the hospital to be admitted. I was put on a CTG machine for what seemed like forever and then I was examined again. This time though they put the “tape” behind my cervix. This releases a hormone to help soften your cervix and hopefully start contractions. This was extremely painful and incomfortable. I felt like throwing up.
After this, was our last supper. Our last dinner as a couple. Naturally we chose the healthy option of KFC. I wasn’t able to eat any of this prior due to my gestational diabetes and fried chicken never tasted so good!
Our birth plan was simple. It was essentially to do anything to get this baby out - avoid an epidural and a C-section for as long as possible. If it was medically needed in the end so be it but, if we could avoid another surgery (if you’re new to my blog I was actually still recovering from ankle surgery when I delivered- in fact I was still using a walking stick for assistance)!
Avoiding an epidural was important as I wanted to be able to move as freely as I could with my physical limitations and no needing to be confined to a hospital bed.
We wanted our experience to be calm, low stress and between us two - along with our gorgeous birth photographer, Virginia from Natural Beginnings (who is also a doula- but, we didn’t hire her for this).
When you get the tape inserted you will experience intense period like pains.
Tom wasn‘t allowed to stay overnight but, he did stay until about 9pm. I was in a room with 2 beds. It was apart of the delivery suites. This was when the penny actually dropped for us.
Sitting there on another CTG we were talking about how that time tomorrow we might actually be parents.
We heard not once but twice over that evening a lot of “you’re nearly there” then a few grunts... shortly followed by newborn cries. At that moment we looked at eachother and realised this was actually happening, we were about to do this.
HOLY CRAP! WE WERE ABOUT TO DO THIS!
In that moment I felt a rush of excitement, a little fear and a whole lot of love.
Anyway, that night not a lot of sleep was had. I was constantly thinking “is this a contraction or is this how it feels with the tape?” The nurse recommended a pain killer and a sleeping tablet because the next day was going to need a whole lot of energy. I accepted because the pains were already pretty intense. After a few hours I asked for a heat pack. It helped a little. I didn’t get much sleep, how could I? I was about to become a Mum.
I wondered who my baby would be, what would they look like and would I do okay.
That night I heard 2 more babies be born.
I think I peed about 17 times this night, I don’t know if it was because I still had a watermelon size baby inside me or it was nerve related (probably the watermelon).
6am rolled around and they came in to examine me again. The next words sent me into a spiral. She looked at me... still (more than) knuckles deep and said “Yep- you’re 1cm dialated. We can break your waters now. Go to the toilet if you need, get your stuff and we will move to the delivery suite. It's time to call Dad sweetheart.”
I went to the toilet thinking this is really it. I was in disbelief. I called Tom - he was just about to jump into the shower. Luckily we live literally 5 minutes from the hospital.
My contractions actually started after that examination. They were intense. When we got to the delivery suite the midwife even commented on how I had progressed quickly.
As Tom walked into the delivery suite he was greeted by me.. legs spread with the midwife putting a large crotchet hook up my hoo-har. I mean, I know why they do it but, I still don’t think southern region facing the door is that comfortable.
She turned and said “Uhh, you must be Dad.. just in time!”
Breaking my waters was uncomfortable, I felt pressure and then a massive gush of water. As soon as it happened I vomited. And I’m talking the biggest chunder. All down my right arm and all over poor Tom who was standing right there. I then proceeded to fill numerous vomit bags.
My induction drip was put in (for those who aren’t fully aware- you are put on a drip that artificially brings on labour and starts contractions).
Induction is extra intense because of this- there is no build up of small, well-spaced out contractions that gradually increase. With induction it is normally very intense very quickly and this was certainly the case for me.
On top of that drip, I also needed a drip for antibiotics. I had tested positive to Strep B earlier in pregnancy so, for a precaution we decided to give antibiotics to prevent the baby from breathing it in and getting a respiratory infection.
So, there I was. Connected to 2 drips (one in each hand), using a walking stick and having contractions. At first I was standing and swaying then, my ankle started to ache. All I wanted was to sit but, I knew gravity would be my best friend. This is one of the tips my Mum had given me going into this.
After a while and me saying I couldn’t stand anymore and the midwife advising that my cervix was still long when I was checked and standing would be the best option.
I was leaking a lot and needed to change the pad. While Tom was checking every draw and cupboard he found what would soon become our biggest blessing through labour.
A plastic octopus massager and an exercise ball. Ladies- please use this ball. It was the best thing to happen.
The ball gave me freedom to use a lot of the techniques I learnt in the spinning babies class (I spoke about this briefly in a previous blog). I learnt to listen to my fascia and listen to my pelvis. I swung, swayed, rocked and breathed through each contraction. I held onto the stirrup on the bed and breathed in 2,3,4,5 and out again. I had asked for the gas and it worked for a while.
Every contraction I breathed it in and if you have ever had the gas the sound of the crackle will take you right back to those emotions. (I feel like the gas worked at the beginning but, then it stopped. I think it was more about focusing on breathing it in and not the actual pain that was helping the most).
I dont know how long I had been labouring for but, what I do know is that I DIDN‘T WANT ANY DAMN FOOD! After a while Tom was ademate that I was expending so much energy and I needed to eat - that’s the last thing I wanted or needed so I sent him downstairs to get himself a coffee and bacon roll.
If I’m honest I didn’t really notice him missing because my drip had fallen out of my hand.
Which resulted in another canula being put in. Staying still through contractions for another one to be put in was not something I was great at. (My canula would fall out another 2 times throughout my labour which gave me a few nasty bruises).
Because we had decided to have a Birth Photographer we were mindful that we would need to tell her it was time to come in at some point. Tom was in constant contact with her through text and because she has a lot of experience not only photographing but, also being a doula she was comforting and told us to let her know when I was 6cm.
I had asked the midwives when we should call her and we just kept being told “you had a long cervix, you probably aren't far at all. You have a marathon darling”. This was the LAST THING I wanted to hear.
Contractions were intensifying - coming in strong and fast.
After about 3.5 hours (which doesn’t seem like a lot but, in labour it is a lifetime) I started to feel self doubt. I couldn’t do this. I needed something stronger. If this was the beginning... what was I going to be like towards the end? Tom was the best birthing partner. Yes, he online shopped because he knew I would say just buy the damn jeans. But, he also rubbed my back with that god send of an octopus EVERY.SINGLE.CONTRACTION while sitting on a small stool. I kept hearing my Mum’s voice. You are the only one that can get this baby out.
Tom was reassuring and encouraging, he kept telling me I was stronger than the pain and I did believe him.
At 4 hours of active labour I looked at the clock. 11am. My Mum has just landed from Melbourne so, I asked if she could come.
I always thought I would just want Tom with me which in part I did. But, after hearing I would most likely be labouring into the night I knew I needed more. I was a girl who needed her Mum. Tom called her and she said she would come straight to the hospital. She was on her way.
I relaxed a little which seems impossible when you’re in the middle of intense contractions but I tried to remind myself to breathe and somehow I started having more energy. I was still very over it though.
Somehow, deep inside I felt like it couldn’t be the start. There was no way. I knew I hadn’t been labouring too long but, the contractions were long, hardcore and very close together.
Finally, we had reached the time where they would check how dialated I was. This was it- I knew it. This was when they would say OK call your photographer, you’re over the hump- you’re past halfway.
I went to the toilet before getting on the bed. As soon as I sat down my body felt an incredible urge to push. The midwife yelled please don’t its too early, quick get up. I looked at Tom- who had wheeled my pole with the bags on it dead in the eyes with a look as if I can’t not push.
So, I hopped on the bed and her face looked up shocked. She said “sweetheart- you are 7cm. Quiet achiever here- I can feel the head”.
What did this mean? What do I do?
The words “It’s almost time to push” were said.
OMG! CALL VIRGINIA!
When Virginia had arrived 10 minutes later I was on all fours trying my hardest to keep this baby in. I needed to dilate some more otherwise I was in for a world of hurt. I felt a lot of encouragement and ease once I knew she was there. If I’m honest, it didn’t feel like a photographer. It felt like support to me.
There’s a lot of things Virginia did in the next few hours (including hours after birth) that she didn’t have to do. We hired her as a photographer- nothing else. But, how she was in that room will stay with me forever.
When they said it was time to push. We couldn’t wait- the baby wanted to come. I already knew this. Trying to not push when your body is telling you to is possibly the hardest thing I have ever done. It’s like having explosive diarrhoea and trying to clench your bum cheeks. It’s not achieving much.
Anyway, I asked for a cesearian at this point. I didn’t actually want one. But, throughout the last part of my pregnancy I was convinced by a lot of people that I would not be able to push my baby out. There was no way. So, in a way I must of subconsciously convinced myself too.
I didn’t think I could do it- little did I know I had done it. I was doing it.
Virginia told me to feel the head. So, I did. I could feel my babies head - I could feel the hair. I was in shock. After months of growing my baby I could finally feel them. Actually touch them. My baby was crowning.
A lot of women you speak to worry about pushing. They are always focused on pushing out a baby and the pain. If I am honest with you all - pushing was my favourite part. I felt so relaxed and comfortable.
I knew I could give a little more, push a little harder because the finish line was in sight! In a matter of moments I would hold my baby.
The baby I had been feeling kick and roll, the baby I had spoken to and prayed on. The baby I had always wished for would soon by in my arms.
I pushed for about half an hour. 5 pushes I think (I cant be too sure).That’s all it took.
I remember I kept thanking the nurses and midwives. Like they had done it for me but, I remember Virginia saying you did it. She was right- I had done it!
Tom was saying well done, I love you. His face was something I will never forget. Proud. In love. Overwhelmed.
Somewhere in between pushes my catheter had fallen out again and Tom had a gore putting pressure on the sight.. I didn't even feel any of this.
After 4 hours and 58 minutes of labour and 5 (ish) pushes my baby I had long awaited for was placed on my chest. My little miracle.
8.05pounds (3.655kg), 50cm of pure perfection. Pure puffy perfection.
I was overwhelmed. The feeling is euphoric. I wish I could bottle that feeling and give myself a little spritz everytime I felt down. I was empowered.
I was so happy and in such a bubble that I didn’t even ask or care what the gender was until a couple of minutes later where I lifted the leg. A BOY! I had a son!
We also did opt for delayed cord clamping and I’m proud and grateful we did. Since choosing it I have found and researched a lot more benefits that I didn't even know of at the time.
After a few cuddles I was told it was time to push again. I looked at Tom and said “why? I just had our baby?!”
“Your placenta Carly." Of course.
With one big push that was out.
I am including these next moments as a lot of birth stories you read stop there. At the birth. But, what about the moments after? I wish I had read and known more about the moments after so, I will be sharing mine.
My little guy was taken away to be checked and I... I was informed that since my baby was so eager to meet me he only allowed me to dialate to 7.5cm which resulted in tearing. They put a local in before they stitch and let me tell you, I would rather have another baby then experience that again. PAINFUL!
Anyway, while I was being sewn up Dad got to have skin to skin. Virginia played a big part in this as well instructing him to take his shirt off and have chest to chest. I asked if he was okay- they didn’t tell us how his check went. I was quickly reassured by Virginia that if there was something wrong we would know and not to worry. We made a perfect baby.
Virginia asked if we had thought of names and we had. We had 2 boot names and 1 girl.
Tom looked at me as if to say: “well, which one is he?” I had no doubt in my mind which name he suited. The midwife and Virginia both had already made comments about him looking like Dad in the first minute of his life.
I looked own at his precious face, stroking his head- I said “Hi Thomas. I’m your Mummy and I’ve waited so long to meet you.”
I looked at Tom and I knew he was happy. He always wanted his TJ.
And here he was- in all his glory. Thomas Ross Baker.
Remember my Mum coming? Well, she did come. She arrived about 5 minutes after delivery. She missed the birth by 5 minutes but, she saw the aftermath.
As soon as I saw my Mum I cried. She was so proud. I just remember repeating to her “I did it Mum, I really did it. I was brave. Are you proud of me” I was so lucky to have her come so quickly. Sometimes a girl just needs her Mummah and this was my moment. I realised you really are never too old to need your Mum to reassure you and tell you she has never been prouder and she knew you could do it.
My Mum is my rock and sharing the first few moments of my sons life with her is something I will hold so close to me forever.
After an hour or so of skin to skin and attempted breastfeeding we were told it was time to move into the maternity ward. But, first I needed to shower.
Tom took our little bundle to the special care nursery where he would stay 5 days due to low blood sugar levels and being a little cold.
My mum helped me shower. Well... I use shower loosely as it mainly consisted of me standing legs spread, trying to wash myself and her hosing me off like a dog.
The most amazing thing was how skinny my bum was!! She told me this would happen. It sounds strange if you haven’t had a baby but washing your bum becomes a really hard task. I was pretty lucky because of my high fluid I did deflate pretty quick so, I could WASH MY BUM!!
I was told to do a wee- I didn’t.
I wasn’t allowed to move on until I did a wee. This is where my Mum took over and said do a wee or they will put a catheter in! That is something I did not want after pushing out a baby and receiving god knows how many stitches. She stood there making water noises and turning the tap on and off (bless her) and I finally did. A small dribble but, it was enough.
This whole time was probably about 5-7 minutes but, it felt like an hour. I couldn’t stop thinking about my baby. I couldn’t wait to get back to him!
I hobbled down the hall and stared at him in awe.
8 months later and I haven’t stopped staring.
So, if you made it through to the end- there it is.
After a very positive and empowering story about how an intense 5 hour labour on the 21st of June, 2018 at 11:33am not only a son was born but, so too was a Mother.
I had morphed into a Mother. Something I always dreamt and hoped I would become but, never knew was possible.
As soon as I layed eyes on my baby boy I knew this was special. Everything I was and everything I had was for him.
(Some people don’t fall instantly in love with their babies and that is completely normal- but, for me there was no question).
I had just met the love of my life. My love at first sight. My son.
All Photos are credited to Virginia from Natural Beginnings. https://www.naturalbeginnings.com.au/
Yep I cried! So Beautiful 😍
Thankyou hun!!!!! That means so much xxx
I think this is one of my favs!!!! Xxxxxx love you