Wednesday, 23 November 2011

My birth story Part One


As part of my Day Zero Project I planned to write about the births of my children and my wedding day under Number 55: Write about the three most significant days of my life. So when I came across Mummy Actually's wonderful blog, I decided to join in with her birth story blog hop.

So here we go......


I went to bed on the 10th December 2007 fully expecting the next day to be like the one I’d just had. A bit of nesting, a bit of card making, a bit of This Morning, a lot of putting my feet up.  I had one of those nights where you feel like you are just skimming along the boundary between sleep and wakefulness. I dipped in and out of what I thought were dreams, dreams of long dark tunnels and creatures foraging down them. No really. I’m not making this up.

I woke at around 4.30 am with what felt like a very mild period pain. 5 minutes later I had one again. I started to write them down. After an hour I got too fidgety in bed so I went downstairs and emptied the dishwasher, did a spot of dusting and tidying. As you do when you’ve got possibly the most physically challenging day of your life ahead of you.

At about 6 o’clock I went and told the yet-to-be Hubster the good news that he wouldn’t be going into work today. We sat around timing the contractions and as they became more painful, I did what most daughters do. I called my Mum. She arrived about 9 o’clock shortly followed by my Dad who turned up brandishing a paintbrush ready to help us out with some (very) last minute decorating.  It wasn’t planned that I’d spend my labour with my Mum and Dad, but I did and it was just perfect. We spent the morning drinking tea, our jovial conversations punctuated by regular abrupt stops, resumed a minute or two later. We watched the yet-to-be Hubster run around like a madman, frantically trying to transform our house from looking like it was in an episode of DIY Disasters to a fully functioning, babyproofed home. By 1 o’clock I felt ready to go to hospital.

By the time we got to there my contractions were becoming stronger and stronger and I began to panic. On the maternity ward they quickly ushered me into a delivery suite and a lovely but rather firm midwife came over and reminded me of that all important thing I was forgetting to do: breathe. Within minutes I was calm and in control again.

I bounced on the birthing ball and as before was distracted by lighthearted chit chat with my Mum and the yet-to-be Hubster between contractions. I was examined at around 3 o’clock and was found to be 5cm. Halfway there!

The rest of the birth is a bit of a blur. Over the next few hours, the pain got more intense. I was given gas and air which, once I’d got the hang of, really helped.  The yet-to-be Hubster had the obligatory puff when the midwives weren’t looking. I don’t think I heard anything from him for half an hour after.

At around 7 o’clock I felt the urge to push. I hadn’t been examined since I arrived but as things had progressed so well, the midwives were happy for me to go for it. Suddenly I became aware of a strange noise in the distance. The only thing I can compare it to is the mooing of a cow. Luckily, by the time I realised it was coming from me,  I was past the point of embarrassment and really gave it some welly.  Unfortunately it soon became apparent that in fact my body wasn’t quite ready, and I was pushing too early. The pushing sent the baby’s heart rate soaring and suddenly there were a lot more people in the room.

Very shortly after this I was given an episiotomy and my baby was delivered by ventouse.

The midwive held it up for me to see. ‘Ohhh, is it a girl?!’ I said. You’d have thought, given the state I was in, I would be able to identify the difference between a girl and a boy.

My Mum then passed the yet-to-be Hubster this prediction she had written weeks before:


She was right. At 19.50pm Ella Rose Simmonds screamed her way into the world weighing a very healthy 8lbs 8oz.

Throughout my pregnancy despite the scans, listening to the heartbeat, the unmistakable growing bump,  I still couldn’t quite believe that there was a baby in there. But suddenly it was real. Here she was.

Frustratingly, I was then taken off for surgery. Where I had an epidural.  Teeny bit annoying. But as I lay there with my legs strapped up around my ears, I had the biggest grin on my face. Proudly, I told the surgeons all about my little squealing, screwed up bundle of joy that would change our lives forever.


 Love you millions gorgeous girl.

5 comments:

  1. What a lovely story. I am chuckling at the cow mooing!

    Ella is gorgeous. xx

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  2. Oh the epidural after the baby is born. That's a killer isn't it! Thanks for linking this one up to my Birth Stories post. She is a very cute baby :))

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  3. Hahaha I love the cow mooing bit! I am planning to go into labour wearing an ankle length strapless navy and silver evening dress, with perfect hair and makeup, lay elegantly on the bed and pop out a small well behaved child with no surplus fluid or mess. No? xx

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    1. I think I may copy and paste this and let you re-read it in a few years time! xx

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