Back in early 2008, having decided I wanted to start a family, but still having trouble persuading Greg, the decision was made for us, when we saw a little purple line. I didn’t even consider birth options until a few months into the pregnancy. After a bit of reading, I decided that I really wanted a waterbirth. My local hospital only had one birthpool and there was no guarantee it would be available. I started reading ‘Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth’, which led me to research homebirth and I decided that I wanted to give birth at home. I read everything I could on giving birth and wrote a detailed birthplan, which I’m sad to say, was pretty much ignored by the medical professionals involved in the birth.
Two days before my EDD, I got my first contraction. I got Greg to blow up and fill the birthpool, in anticipation of my gentle, calm home waterbirth. After 2 days of sporadic contractions, the midwife found that my blood pressure was very high. I agreed to be taken into hospital. I hadn’t even got so much as a toe into the birthpool.
Once at the hospital, I was bullied by a rather bossy midwife. She was deliberately trying to scare me into having interventions that I didn’t want. I agreed (willingly) to having blood taken and (not quite so willingly) to her inserting a cannula, as neither of these things should have had any negative side effects. It took her a few attempts to get blood and she tried to insert a cannula into both my wrists before eventually getting it into the back of my left hand. I was left with some quite hefty bruises, which caused me pain for several days afterwards.
I didn’t want to be lying down on my back to give birth but the midwife really wanted to hook me up for continuous monitoring. I reluctantly agreed and was strapped up. Unfortunately the monitors kept losing baby’s heartbeat and it was suggested that a clip attached to baby’s head would solve the problem. By now I had pretty much resigned myself to being stuck on my back, so agreed. My waters were broken and the clip fitted.
My contractions were really difficult to cope with while lying flat on my back and after a while, I asked if it was too late for an epidural. I didn’t want an epidural given too close to the actual delivery, as I knew about how it can interfere the ability to push. I guess I was expecting the midwife (new one on shift now and much nicer than the first one) to examine me. Instead she just went off to arrange it. According to my notes I was given the epidural an hour after asking for it.
I asked for an epidural, despite being one of the interventions I was hoping to avoid because: stuck on my back, I was finding the pain increasingly hard to cope with, I knew an epidural could lower my blood pressure which was very high and I was beginning to worry that I would be whisked off for an emergency c-section, and this might result in me being put under general and ‘missing’ the birth.
After the epidural I could still feel the contractions happening right at the top of my bump but it did give me some relief. The contractions slowed down. This didn’t bother me. I didn’t feel I needed things to be speeded up, artificially. Sometime later, I felt like I really, really needed a poo. I wasn’t sure if I did or if what I was feeling was my pushing urge. I told the midwife what I was feeling, angling for an examination. I don’t remember having one and my question wasn’t answered but I was so tired, I didn’t make a fuss. (My notes state that I was examined, but I didn’t notice due to epidural and wasn’t told that I was in fact fully dilated! My epidural was topped up at 3:13pm, almost three quarters of an hour after being found to be fully dilated.)
My contractions had slowed down (possibly due to the epidural) and I was told (not asked!) I was going to be given a drug to help things along, despite the fact it was clearly stated on my birthplan that I did not want Syntocinon.
So I was hooked up to the Syntocinon, drip without further explanation. Once the drip was started I had a contraction, after which the baby’s heartbeat dropped extremely low. The staff were obviously worried. It did start to rise but I soon had a second contraction and baby’s heartbeat plummeted again. She was in severe distressed. At no point during my labour, had she been in any distress before I was hooked up to the Syntocinon.
The midwife warned me that baby needed to come out very quickly and that she was about to push a button that would ring a bell and that the room was about to get very busy. I began pushing with all my might. I don’t think I had ever put so much physical effort into anything in my life. Sure enough the bell rang and staff began appearing in the room, my feet were put into stirrups. I continued to push as hard as I could, determined that this baby was going to come out sooner rather than later. Although I couldn’t see or feel it happening (I had my eyes tightly shut as I bore down to push) I was given an episiotomy and baby was pulled out using a ventouse, very quickly by a doctor. Greg later told me that he could actually see her head before the episiotomy was done and she was almost at the point of crowning with just my own efforts.
Baby was placed onto my front for just a second or two before being whisked off to be resuscitated on the other side of the room. Someone said that it was a girl. I just lay there and silently watched. I remained totally calm throughout this (I remember using my Natal Hypnotherapy at this point) and was never once afraid that she might not start breathing. Once she began to breath she was wrapped up and given to Greg. I asked (no-one in particular) if I had torn or been cut and Greg said that they had had to cut me. In fact by this point I was already being stitched up.
Once my stitching was finished and my feet removed from the stirrups, Elliot was handed to me. I tried breastfeeding and she seemed to take to it quite easily. I don’t remember feeling a sudden surge of love but it certainly developed over the next few hours and days.
Incidentally, the first time I had my blood pressure checked after the birth it had already returned to normal.
Since the birth I have frequently wondered how different things could have been. What if I had got into my birthpool, when the midwife warned me that my blood pressure was high? Submersion in warm water is known to help lower blood pressure. What if I hadn’t given in to continuous monitoring? Being able to stand up, walk around adopt different positions or get into the bath or shower, I may not have felt the need for an epidural.
I believe the feeling of needing a poo was my pushing urge. What if I had started actively pushing then? If I had done so, I doubt I would have been given the Syntocinon (which ‘may cause fetal distress’ and which I am convinced was the cause of Elliot becoming distressed). And what if I had been asked about the Syntocinon rather than just given it?
My experience obviously didn’t completely put me off childbirth, as I went on to have a second (planned, in consultation with Greg) child two years later). However, it did make me even more wary of going into hospital. I was given a drug without my consent, which I had specifically asked not to be given in my birth plan. I was made to feel like I was a naughty schoolgirl because I didn’t immediately consent to continuous monitoring or a cannula being fitted, was ‘looked after’ by a midwife who obviously thought I was silly for wanting to have a homebirth and just being awkward by wanting things as natural as possible and I wasn’t kept fully informed of my progress.
Elliot’s 2nd birthday party was two days before the EDD of my second pregnancy. My pelvic pain had been getting worse over the previous 3 or 4 days and on the day of the party, it was the worst it had ever been and was almost constant. That night I hardly slept it was so bad. At just before 5am I realised that some of the pain I was feeling seemed to be coming and going without me moving and it dawned on me that I might be having contractions. So I noted the time and waited. Sure enough 12 minutes later I got another wave of the same kind of pain and again 10 minutes after that. I came downstairs and messed about on the computer for a while, then ran a bath and spent over an hour in there, trying to relax and doing my Natal Hypnotherapy stuff. I didn’t count or time my contractions at all while in there. Got out of bath at 8am and woke Greg, telling him he ought to get up and start getting Elliot ready to go (to stay with grandparents).
The contractions then seemed to start coming much more frequently and were getting much stronger. After getting himself some breakfast, Greg called his parents to warn them he would soon be on his way. I told him he really ought to call the midwife, as things seemed to be going quickly. By about 9am Greg and Elliot were ready to go and midwives were on their way. I was kneeling over whatever I could find to help cope with contractions, which were by now causing me to use some very unladylike language. Greg went next door to ask our neighbour to stay with me until he got back from his parents. While he was next door I took a couple of paracetamol and noted that it was 9:13am. On seeing me (I didn’t see her as I had my face buried in my arms on the coffee table) our neighbour offered to take Elliot instead as she didn’t think Greg would make it back in time.
So Elliot was ‘sorted’ and my contractions had almost no gap between them. I was now kneeling over the sofa and crying out with the intensity of the contractions. I had started to feel an urge to push.
The midwives arrived at 9:20am. The first midwife knelt behind me and chatted to me to get the info she needed. The second midwife got me some gas and air, which I was really grateful for. Greg was in the dining room desperately trying to get the birthing pool blown up. I knew there was no point, as I wasn’t moving from where I was. My waters broke during a contraction and I could feel it all over my legs (and the carpet). The midwife told me that if I wanted to push I should do so and believe you me I really, really wanted to push. So for the next few contractions I pushed, while making some very loud noises. Felt myself poo during the first couple of pushes (lovely!) but then also began to feel the baby moving down inside me. After one or two more pushes, the midwife told me head was out. On the next push baby was completely out and the midwife passed it between my legs into my hands, wrapped in a towel. I took the baby and said hello, kissing its head. I asked (no-one in particular) if it was a girl or boy and peeked under the towel. It was a girl. Somehow I managed to turn round and sit down on the floor with baby in my arms. The midwife asked the time and Greg told her it was 9:35am. I kept baby in my arms for what turned out to be around 40 minutes (some of which we spent breastfeeding) while we waited for the placenta to deliver. Once the placenta had detached Greg cut the cord once the baby had finished feeding, the midwives asked if they could take her to do her newborn checks, which were done right in front of me.
Apparently baby had come out with her hand on her face and I had therefore torn quite badly. A third midwife, who was on rounds in the area and is apparently an expert at stitching, was able to come round and do the stitches for me. I had local anaesthetic for that.
Because the midwives arrived so late in my labour, neither of them had a chance to read my birth plan before the birth. However one of them did read through it while I was breastfeeding, and apart from not using the pool, everything went according to plan. The midwives asked my permission before everything they did and made me feel that they valued my opinions and respected my decisions. They really were very lovely midwives and I cannot sing their praises highly enough. They were so different from some of the hospital staff I had encountered during Elliot’s birth.
By 11:30am all the midwives had left and I was lying on my own sofa with my Caitlin on my chest.
Even though my homebirth wasn’t at all what I had envisaged, I’m so glad it was a home birth and not another hospital one. My first labour took over 40 hours from the first contraction and so this being so quick was quite a shock.
Many years ago, talking to my mum about her experiences of childbirth (I was the first of her two births) she told me she didn’t feel like she had really given birth to me, as she had an epidural. In fact she had an induced labour at 39 weeks, with forceps and an episiotomy. At the time I thought this was an odd thing to say.
My mum’s second birth was very different. She went into labour naturally, didn’t have an epidural and pushed my sister out herself. I remember her telling me that because she could feel my sister coming out, she felt more like she had actually given birth to her (as opposed to having had me delivered by a doctor). I now know exactly how she felt. I was in complete control when Caitlin was born. I could feel everything my body was doing. I could feel that my pushing was doing what it was supposed to. I could actually feel Caitlin moving down my vagina. But despite having read many women describe this as feeling like they would split in two, and even though I tore all the way down (due to Caitlin’s hand being on her face) I experienced no pain in that area. I’m not saying I had a painless labour. The contractions were very intense but all of the ‘pain’ was in my abdomen. I did it all myself. I had no drugs to ‘help’ my contractions and no-one else pulled Caitlin out. I was able to hold Caitlin straight away, while she was still attached to me via the umbilical cord. I was able to kiss, cuddle and breastfeed her without any interference from anyone else. I was able to check for myself what sex she was. I held her while I delivered the placenta, some 40 minutes later, while breastfeeding. I even did this bit all by myself (with a bit of help from Caitlin – I could feel the contractions starting up again as she fed).
Elliot meets her new sister for the first time
Caitlin’s birth was the most amazing experience of my life. I will never forget feeling myself pushing her out and I know exactly what my mum meant when she said she didn’t really feel like she’d given birth to me. I am sad that Elliot’s birth wasn’t the amazing experience that Caitlin’s was and that I will forever associate it with having things done to me that I didn’t want.
I know people say that it doesn’t matter what the birth was like, as long as you get a healthy baby in the end. But it does matter. Having the end result of a healthy baby is obviously the most important thing, but that doesn’t mean that the mother’s birth experience isn’t important. Bad birth experiences contribute to PND and in some cases cause PTSD. Women should not feel guilty for wanting a good birth experience and women who have bad experiences shouldn’t be fobbed off with ‘well at least you got a healthy baby’. The mother’s wellbeing (both physical and mental) is very important. Surely a happy, healthy mother can only be a good thing (for her baby as much as for herself).
Before deciding I wanted to become a doula, I had had a string of different jobs, in childcare and education (nursery nurse, swimming teacher, classroom assistant, adult education tutor, special needs assistant, teacher in a special school and finally primary school teacher). I loved my work and was very dedicated to whatever job I had at the time. Then I fell pregnant and suddenly my job, which was quite stressful at times, was no longer my main focus in life. I hated the idea that getting stressed could in any way be adversely affecting my baby. I put in fewer hours, rested when I was tired and actually stayed at home when I was ill. Previously, I’d practically have to be hospitalised before I took any time off work. It wasn’t that I didn’t love my job anymore. I just had something else that was far more important to me.
I returned to work, when my first daughter was 5 months old with a mixture of feelings. I enjoyed the actual teaching but hated having to spend so much time away from Elliot and worse still, having to spend so much of the time I was at home ignoring her, so that I could get all my lesson planning and marking done.
By now I had made quite a few friends who were either pregnant or who had babies and felt like I had read just about every book ever published on childbirth. I was shocked how many of my friends had had very medicalised births. And almost half of them had C-sections. I was determined I would have a more natural birth experience second time around but knew that I couldn’t take it for granted.
Once I had given birth again (and got my fantastic, natural birth experience) I began to consider the possibility of becoming a doula, so that I could help other women to achieve the births they wanted too. After a few months of wondering, a friend of mine told me she was going to train to be postnatal worker and it inspired me to actually do something about becoming a doula. Within the space of a month I had arranged to go on a training course. I handed in my notice at work and set up an antenatal support group. I know it’s only early days for me but despite the sudden drop in income (doulas don’t earn much and as with any new business I doubt I’ll actually make any profit in the first year) I have absolutely no regrets.
Kathryn Beale is a birth and postnatal doula working in and around Swindon, including Marlborough, Faringdon, Chippenham, Cirencester, Wantage and Hungerford. She hosts a free antenatal support group, in Swindon itself, called ‘Optimums-To-Be’ as well as coordinating Swindon Sling Library and hiring out TENS machines, a birthpool and a trial reusable nappy kit to local parents. For more information, please visit her website – www.optimumdoula.co.uk.
