This photo says, He’s Mine, my beautiful baby boy …my little Freddie, who arrived on Thursday 5th March 2015 at Worcestershire Royal Hospital, weighing 7Ib 9oz. I’m sitting here in bed [our first night at home last night] watching him sleep beside me in his moses basket after a long feed. I’m sipping the luxury of a cup of tea … and reminding myself to cherish every single moment. Needless to say it has been the most miraculous week of my life. It was the early hours of Monday morning when my “show” arrived, and for the next few days [including a fall onto black ice on my backside whilst trying to be healthy and energetic!] I was awaiting regular and stronger contractions. My amazing cousin Sarah, my birthing partner, came to stay late on Monday night, and didn’t leave my side until Freddie was born. We walked a lot, we tried to get to grips with the contraction application on the iPhone …. and ultimately on Wednesday afternoon we went to the hospital to be assessed. I am quite a chatty person, and the midwife who examined me on the triage ward seemed a little unconvinced that anything was happening as I appeared too “talkative”. I should obviously have been more melodramatic, but I find when I’m REALLY in pain I manage to give the impression that I’m okay.
[Contd several hours later; laundry done, baby fed, changed, I jumped in and out of the shower in approximately 50secons, got dressed myself, made bed, hugged baby, fed baby again, cleaned kitchen etc.]
Anyway, so where was I? Childbirth. Previous posts alluded to my anxieties about being able to keep calm and “do it”. I was absolutely blown away by how your body can take over, and you become Neanderthal earth mother who goes very into herself and manages to breathe, and grunt, and poo in the birthing pool. By 10pm on Wednesday I was practically delighted when a rather lovely midwife shoved a lot fingers up my chuff, swept them around and proceeded to break my waters in the process. Next stop was the birthing pool!
I had always dreamt of a totally natural no pain relief [not even gas and air] delivery – and by jove I actually did it. I have always loved water, and just getting into the pool was a huge relief. The things I didn’t expect about contractions for me, was that whilst they began in my lower abdomen, they centered in my backside and radiated down my thighs. This meant that lying/sitting down was unbearable, even the birthing ball was hard work. As soon as I got in the pool, I didn’t have that problem [after hours stood up jigging around and leaning over a bed]. The waves of contractions got rather furious as expected, but in those early hours of the morning it really was quite beautiful – there was a dim light in the room, and I had these supportive women [a midwife, a student, and my birthing partner] knelt around the pool as the waves of pain rose and fell ….
When it came to pushing, I don’t think the English language has the words to adequately describe it. What I will say, is that for me, with the agonising crowning, and the subsequent almost involuntary push; the world, my life, everything I had known until that point – changed forever. Freddie shot into the water of the pool [only for me to pick him up upside down and wrap the cord around him!!] and a love was born which I didn’t previously know existed.
[Another break for more boob and a change!]
There can be no greater love; even if my ladyparts may never be the same again. Perineum anyone?