Before I went through it myself, I read about it, took an NCT course with my Mr., and asked friends about their experiences. All of which was helpful, and did help prepare me, but on the day so much went differently and the reality looked and felt unlike anything I'd imagined - especially my fears, which loomed very large on the evening before: they came true (I was induced by drip) yet the fear turned out to have been worse than the reality.
|Our brand new daughter|
20 hours old
For those of you who want the full story, warts and all, the reality of how it was... here goes.
I had a membrane sweep on Wednesday. It didn't set off labour, but it did help get things started. Membrane sweeps aren't pleasant but with years of debilitating period pain behind me I wouldn't have called it all that painful either. Bit of deep breathing and it was done in five minutes. I was given a Bishop Score of 3 out of 13; from 5 they consider the cervix to be favourable to induction.
On Thursday night I began to wonder if my waters were going - draining ever so slowly. I couldn't make up my mind, put a pad in and figured it'd become clear soon enough. The same continued through all of Friday. On Saturday I thought best to get checked, even though I wondered if I was being overly cautious as this slow leak (if there was one) was so, so slow... in fact after examining me the midwife who checked was so unsure about it herself that she asked a doctor, who decided that for safety's sake they would consider it broken waters. Since it had been over 24 hours they kept me in to start the induction process.
With broken waters induction doesn't involve a 24 hour prostaglandin pessary but a 6 hour gel which was put in at 4pm on Saturday. They then transferred me to the ward to wait for it to work, and the Mr. was able to join me then, having taken the hound to his doggy hotel for the time being.
We had the tiniest room but it was a single room and we shared the single bed somehow, waiting and hoping for contractions which didn't come. Meanwhile the delivery suite downstairs was extremely busy and we were advised to get as much sleep as possible (I don't think either of us managed to really sleep).
|An amniotic hook - like an oversized crochet |
hook, this is what they use to break the waters.
Breaking waters - once that was done they were definitely going, at last! Not even as unpleasant as the sweep, because it was much quicker. It still caused no real contractions though. Very gentle intermittent belly hardening was all. So the drip it was!
At 9 am the midwife started me off on the drip, very slowly, increasing the dose at regular intervals as she saw my body's reaction to it. I should say that because I was induced, the midwife stayed in the room with us the entire time from start to finish. She was obviously very experienced and calibrated the dose carefully. I could feel gentle contractions at first, the Mr. and I played scrabble for a while until contractions became too distracting.
As contractions became harder and harder to cope with, my main fear was from what mums who had been induced had told me: that the breaks between contractions would go away and it'd soon be one on top of another, without relief. By that time, contraction pain was immense and I was living for those breaks. I couldn't have coped without them. About 90 minutes into established labour I asked for an epidural (having been told it would be wise to get it in early so that I wouldn't have to wait once the pain was truly unbearable).
The midwife put on a very unimpressed face and said I should really try gas & air (entonox) first. Reluctantly I agreed. (She later told us how impressed she was that I had asked for an epidural only once and then just got on with it!)
I should say the initial drip was started at about 9am with no real action for a few hours. Established labour was from about noon, when I was examined at 4cm. At that time, the midwife said the next progress check would be about 4 hours later: they don't want to check too often with waters having broken over 24 hours earlier, because of infection risk. I'd made it about 90 minutes when I asked for the epidural & got the gas & air. Until then, the birth skills I had learned from this book and at the NCT course - especially vocals & breathing and stress balls - got me through, and Mr. talking me through each and every contraction as if it was a wave to paddle board into: get to the top, sweet relief on the way down, then a total break from pain.
With gas & air that pattern continued. By then I felt incredibly tired though! I have never felt so leaden tired in my whole life, so barely capable even of speech. All I could repeat, in between contractions, was how tired I was. I could not have had what they call an 'active' labour: as soon as it was established I was so physically tired I could barely move at all. I went to the toilet a few times on very shaky legs but that was all I could do. I was mostly on my side, changing positions was barely possible.
|A gas & air mouthpiece.|
Responding to anything at all was major, major effort, even though I was fully aware of everything going on around me. Mr. never stopped talking me through contractions, wiping my skin with a cold wet flannel, offering water with a straw. He was my rock, offering me his constant reassuring strength.
To my incredible relief, I never lost the breaks between contractions, the midwife so skilfully calibrated the drip. For a while she wasn't happy that I had too many contractions that were too short each - only about 30-40 secs long - but things still progressed. She was rather surprised that before the 4 hours of established labour were over, I was ready to push (I was surprised I had the energy to do that, and to make the noises that came out of my throat). After a quick exam showed I was nearly 10cm dilated, she got a second midwife to come in and said I should just do what my body told me.
Remember, I was fully aware but I must have looked almost comatose... somehow I made it onto my knees on the bed, leaning on the raised head part, but did not have the strength to lift myself up on my knees. So I hung there, crouched, and there wasn't space between me and the bed for baby to come out! I had a few pushes there though and I could tell baby was moving down.
The midwife eventually got me to turn a bit so that the baby could get out, and I ended up kind of hanging on my left side, propped almost upright by the head rest - she said this looked really uncomfortable but I had no strength to change positions and it did work for me. Several pushes... then I could feel the head with my hand. It kept slipping back a bit but I was happy with that to avoid tearing. I could feel tearing coming if I didn't give it some time; the pain down there was acute. I would push, pant, whatever I felt like in the moment.
At one point baby's head was stuck half out when the contraction ended and she kicked me hard on the inside - I actually screamed with pain. That was the most painful point! But with the next push her head was out, another two or so and she was there, put straight on my chest by my midwife.
I was so tired I didn't have time to open my eyes, focus and turn my head towards her before they took her off me again in a hurry, cut the cord and took her to the resuscitation station in the room - Mr. said she was very dark blue and floppy and they were obviously worried enough to go to emergency procedure. But even as they took her across the room though she revived and they gave her back to me quickly, almost too quick for me to react to what had happened. Obviously she was just a bit shocked by the quick exit!
I'd never made it to four hours of established labour. It started at about noon and at 4.07pm she was out! She fed beautifully by 5pm, I had a managed third stage meanwhile because with the drip they worry about excessive bleeding. I shook like a leaf for a good half hour after delivery, I think from sheer exhaustion - my actual blood loss was minimal according to my hospital notes.
Now that was a long, long story but I did promise not to hold back. Physically, no question, this was the hardest thing I've ever done. I've cared for my dying mother at age 15, especially at night, and went to school in the day (where I'd often fall asleep in the middle of lessons) but it's safe to say I have never, ever felt so completely and utterly disabled by tiredness. Yet the actual duration of it all was very short and it was an amazing experience, in hindsight.
The fear was worse than the reality.