Steph & Pippa
At the time I became pregnant, I was working as a neonatal nurse. A big part of my job was to attend births where a complication was anticipated - premature labour, unwell mum or baby etc. So I had a pretty warped perception of how a hospital birth looked and desperately wanted to avoid a c-section. I was really excited to deliver at the local birthing centre which unfortunately closed a few months before my due date. So I decided to be prepare for home birth, because hospital was a) my workplace and b) worst case scenario where all the “terrible things” happen.
Unfortunately due to the COVID vaccine mandate, I had to find a new home birth LMC at 36 weeks which luckily I did. We’d had our first chat about my birth plan, when the following day I noticed my baby hadn’t been very active. I did all the usual things without any luck so my LMC called me to come in. Once on the CTG, baby absolutely humiliated me with her liveliness but since I was there, my LMC wanted to be thorough and did bloods, urine and ordered a growth scan. I went on my way feeling a bit silly, only to be called by my LMC the following morning to be told I had pre eclampsia. She said the scan the following day would give us more information and we’d make a plan after that. I still naively thought I’d be going ahead with my home birth and the scan was just a tick box. However it showed a significant drop in abdominal circumference and a smaller but still notable drop in head circumference - so basically baby wasn’t getting enough nutrients from my placenta.
The next few days was a whirlwind of appointments with O&G doctors etc who told me that was baby was now 37 weeks, it was in both of our best interests to induce labour. I was absolutely gutted - I was angry my body had “failed” to provide for my baby, I was devastated I wouldn’t have my “dream birth” and terrified of having to deliver in hospital. The doctors were concerned that the scan indicated she didn’t she was nutritionally compromised and waiting for spontaneous labour risked depleting her reserves. So induction it was.
Thursday came and it was the date of my induction. Despite working in neonates I knew very little about inductions and I laugh now at the bets we placed on what time that same day my baby would come (spoiler, it wasn’t that day, or the next!). I started with a balloon catheter and met my new bestie entonox. After that I went for a decent walk as I hoped I might avoid the other steps in the induction process. My body ejected the balloon later that evening after a bit of cramping. I was assessed the following morning and the balloon hadn’t done a lot, so we opted for a few rounds of gel applied to the cervix. Again I went for a walk, said goodbye to my doggo because surely it was baby day today right?! Wrong, I got a second balloon inserted that evening which also came out a few hours later and then absolutely nothing until the morning.
I was determined that this time my cervix was favourable so my waters were broken and off I went for another walk until my soaked pad forced me back to the hospital. I was hooked up to the syntocin drip and finally things started happening. I used my TENS, the entonox and bounced on the ball for a while. Unfortunately the LMC couldn’t get the readings she needed, so I ended up sitting on the bed. She didn’t force me, but I do regret not finding another solution as being stuck on the bed hooked up to a CTG, foetal scalp clip (another regret) and continuous blood pressure monitoring as I was severely hypertensive, meant I felt stripped of any means of moving through contractions. I fought with myself longer than I should have before I asked for an epidural and it was great for me. I was able to get my head back in the game. Things were trucking along, but old mate had one last trick up her sleeve. She decided that she was actually a bit tired of being evicted and wanted a whole room of spectators to coax her out. So we had everyone and his neighbour in, even my mates from paeds were waiting in the wings just incase. I was told she needed to be delivered soon, she was fatiguing so the doctor was going to set up for an episiotomy and forceps. I was basically told to race him - so I did. My delivery had deviated so far from what I’d wanted but mentally my line in the sand was having an episiotomy. I summoned the last of my energy and my tiny love, Pippa Jane was born. She was smaller than expected - 2.36kg but she was healthy and ready to feed! She had always had her hand up by her cheek in scans and how wonderful for me - that’s how she entered the world. So between that and my race against the scissors, I got myself a second degree tear. I wish I’d known to seek help for this sooner and would encourage all mums not to delay engaging with a pelvic physio - especially now you can claim under ACC.
I look back now and think about the anxiety and stress I caused myself by trying to control an manufactur my “perfect birth”. In reality, when my beautiful baby girl was born, all that mattered was her. I got my spontaneous labour the second time around and I was I FURIOUS to be 11 days overdue (at Xmas!) after delivering at 37+5 the first time. I’m definitely a person that likes to plan and control outcomes. So the uncontrolled aspect of giving birth was quite humbling for me both times.
*Note to say, birth trauma is a real thing. I realise I am privileged with relatively straightforward births. But for me, my first birth on paper couldn’t have been much further from what I’d wanted/planned for*
Written by Steph
