Victoria's First Birth: Empowered & Personalised Induction

My waters broke very gently on Tuesday morning, right before the health visitor was due to arrive some time that morning, so me and my husband were at home together. Strange because baby not due for three more weeks but no doubt that waters were trickling throughout the day. We both stayed home, thinking labour may start at any moment!

We hosted the health visitor, not mentioning the wet pants because I wanted her to go through the motions of telling us everything we needed to know without distraction! I mentioned it at the end and she suggested I call the midwife. They suggested I call the delivery suite and we arranged to go in at 8pm to check things over. My husband Sam (the statistician) took over, "Right, ok. So 6/10 labours start with rupture of membranes (waters breaking) of which 60% of women will go into labour within 24 hours and mostly everyone else within 48..." or something along those lines, so we waited.

We had been nesting all bank holiday weekend and everything was ready, apart from the bedside crib which Sam hurriedly put up! The baby could arrive at any time from now.

Skipping through the next bit, but something along the lines of not going into labour on Tuesday or Wednesday and both baby and me being closely monitored in a hospital ward bed. All our heart rate readings were fine but with each hour that passed, further fluids were lost so we continued monitoring to assess the risk of infection. We were consistently encouraged to induce; something I said I didn't want to do; evict my baby before they were ready and not waiting for nature to take its course. I was 'just' 37 weeks but more than 48 hours passed and it was time to accept the circumstances and think about helping the baby along. Blood results came back on Wednesday night, with a couple of cell markers that could hint towards an infection and I wasn't prepared to leave it and increase the risk of either me or baby (or both) becoming very ill.

I stayed on the ward overnight and by Thursday morning I had actually received the natural signal I wanted - sweet little contractions, waking me throughout the night - to know that baby was ready. Sam returned in the morning and we ventured into the hospital grounds, hoping to encourage labour to start with a big walk but also, to process and accept the idea of an induction, as well as spend some final quality time as a couple, in the fresh air and sunshine. It felt like the last day of Summer. 

But still, labour didn't get properly going, so we agreed to move forward with an induction. An examination followed, to see if I needed a pessary to kick things off, but Matron Mary Shakes discovered I was 3cm dilated!  We didn't leave it any longer and off we went, across the corridor to a lovely big room on the delivery suite, to start the dreaded drip.

My midwife was a bit intense and spent a lot of the first stage talking too much and monitoring me too closely, so when the drip took hold of my extremely powerful contractions she continued to talk to the trainee male nurse, my husband and me as I writhed in silent pain and pushed the buttons on my tens machine. I just wanted dark and quiet and to connect with my husband, who is a source of strength and love, but she didn't really take the hint, even when I asked if it was necessary for them to stay in the room the whole time or when I said 'yes please' when she offered to observe from behind the curtain. I had wireless monitoring pads on my tummy to check on mine and baby's heart rates, allowing me to move freely around the space throughout, but as I rotated on the birthing ball or leaned over to rest my head and arms on the table, we would lose wireless signal. She decided she didn't want gaps in the heart rate trace, so with every contraction, there she was, right up close to me, physically holding the monitor to my body. Not easy for me to cope with this level of intrusion but I breathed through it, struggling to do anything more than take oxygen in for 4 counts and controlling my breath out as I pushed the pain away.

She was perhaps mistaking my coping with a lack of progress and suggested adding more fake hormones to the drip, before going on her break. I wasn't able to be examined again (increases the risk of infection) so they refused when I asked but I knew baby was almost there and pleaded with Sam to get someone to just listen to me. The intense midwife left for her dinner break, after I opposed the addition of another 2ml of fake hormones in my drip, and a cover midwife arrived - a lovely young woman called Gail, who finally listened to me and turned the lights down low. Following another big contraction she helped me up onto the bed and assisted Sam in pulling my leggings off. As I reached over the back of the bed, Sam passed me the gas and air which got me into and through the second stage. There was also the lovely male trainee nurse in the room, a Spanish midwifery student called Jose - who lives on same street as me (although I haven’t seen him since) and he is officially named as delivering my baby - well, he was wonderful throughout, mostly powerless but totally had my back and I felt like he was listening to me. I told Gail not to leave me and she didn't. I had a great team surrounding me as I birthed and I am grateful to the intense midwife who returned to find a totally different scene and went on to see us all safely through, and doing a beautiful job of sewing me up after a 2nd degree tear.

At 3.45am on Friday 1st September ... our pride and joy - a baby boy - was born. My amazing playlist kicked in to all our romantic songs as he lay on my chest for the golden hour after he arrived. It was amazing when he crawled up my body, rooting around for my breast. We gazed at him and treasured our very special moment as a family.

A dinky little sweetheart at 5lbs 15oz and exactly what I ordered; my eyes and Sam's nose and lips; born at 37 weeks + 3 days. He was almost cooked but not for another three weeks (born on 1st, due 18th) so quite early!  His birthdate means he will be the oldest in his year group and staying my baby and not at school for a full extra year than if he was born the day before, at the very end of August.

I am so proud of myself, minimal pain relief and just 6 (incredibly intense) hours of labour. I used positive affirmations - as did my well trained husband - to get us through the pushing stage; 'my body and my baby know what to do' and 'this is the most natural thing in the world'. Except it wasn't - the syntocin drip was horrendous and I did think we were in trouble at the end. I am hoping to breathe my next baby out but this time, I pushed so very hard, under pressure of the drip and to get him out as soon as I could. I trust in nature and I think those sweet little contractions, that started the night before, would have eventually turned into a gorgeous, natural birth but we couldn't take the risk of leaving him in there any longer, since the membranes had prematurely ruptured and at least this way, it was all over and done with.