"Tired and heavy and 5 days overdue, I took my 12 year old brother over the Showfield so he could have a mess around with his new golf clubs. It was fun, and I did nothing but laugh as we both attempted a game of golf. Golf is not one of my strongest sports, in fact I find it rather boring, but on this occasion it was hilarious.
Walking home later on, still laughing we discussed what Mam was cooking for tea - gammon, egg and chips. Yummy.
At home, the laughter continued. Little Brother started tickling me. Uh oh, I was laughing so hard, I wet myself. On examination in the toilet, I discovered I had not wet myself, but there was some strange liquid coming from me. “Mam,” I called, “I don’t think I’ve wet myself.” “What do you mean?” replied Mam. I wasn’t given time to answer, “Ow,” I moaned as I felt a pain travel through my bump. “Mam, I think my labour’s starting.”
It was 7.30pm and Mam hurried around to finish cooking tea, just in case it was labour, and within 30 minutes I’d experienced 4 contractions. Mam sent me and Little Brother out for another walk around the Showfield, armed with a pen and a piece of paper to jot down timings.
8.15pm – 30 seconds
8.23pm – 31 seconds
8.23pm – 31 seconds
8.30pm – 40 seconds
8.45pm – 45 seconds
8.50pm – 50 seconds
8.55pm – 50 seconds
9.00pm – 60 seconds
As me and Little Brother arrived back at the house Mam took the paper out of his hand and raised her eyebrows, “Are you sure?” she asked. As Little Brother and I nodded in reply I saw a flicker of panic in her eyes, before she calmly stated, “we should ring M now I think.” (M is my Godmother and a midwife. At the time she was on sick leave and in remission from breast cancer, but was going to act as my second birth partner.)
The next half hour was filled with contractions every 5 minutes, and lasting between 50 and 90 seconds apiece, while attempting a conversation with M. After what seemed like an eternity, she asked me to pass the phone back to Mam.
By 10pm we were in the car, and on our way to the hospital. Every speed bump torturing my body with every contraction.
11.30pm and we were finally in a room, and T, the wonderful midwife asked, “Would you like some gas and air while I do this?” while pulling on her gloves. (To me know the image vaguely resembles those comedy sketches of doctors pulling the gloves in an exaggerated fashion, but I’m sure it was nothing like this.)
I accepted the gas and air because I didn’t have a clue what was going to happen next until…. “OW, that hurt more than the contraction” I told T. She just grinned at me, while saying I was 3cm dilated with membranes still intact.
Mam noticed my puzzled expression and asked M to explain everything to me.
“Now, Beth, you have the option to go home or stay. You’re not in established labour yet.” T advised as she walked back into the room. Before I had chance to think about the choice, M answered, “I think we’re better off staying here,” and so it was I stayed in the room, and was told I’d be examined again in 4 hours.
The next 2 hours are a bit of a blur, I walked the corridors, I howled, I cried with frustration. Eventually M got me to take some more gas and air, and within minutes I was giggling about everything. “They sell this stuff in nightclubs, it’s called laughing gas,” I piped up. This set an incredible conversation off, and I was no part of it. I was already floating to play with the pixies. Another hour had passed and I was still puffing on the gas and air (although Mam later told me the cylinder was, in fact, empty) and continued giggling away. (My only explanation is that it was a natural high.)
3.30am, and T arrived to examine me. This time I was prepared. “You’re 4cm dilated, and your membranes are still intact,” she told me. There was a deflated atmosphere in the room as Mam and M worked out 1cm per hour for a first time labour, 6cm to go, 6 hours to go. 9.30am at the earliest. I cried when they told me. M and T talked me into having Pethidine ‘just to help the time pass quicker’. 20 minutes later, “I need a poo,” I shouted as I bolted to the toilet, and sat down. Mam joined me, for some ‘moral support’. "Mam, I’m gonna be sick!” Mam was one step ahead of me, and had a bowl in front of me before I could say ‘sick’. Somewhere in between, I was given the Pethidine, and the sickness was over with.
“I NEEEEEEED A POOOOOO!” I shouted. “Beth, are you pushing?” Mam asked. “No, I neeed a poooo!” I cried. “T, I think she’s pushing.” T rushed over, and checked. “Oh My God, she’s crowning.” I had absolutely no idea what this mean “Mam?” I whined. “It’s OK, Beth, you’re having your baby, YOU’RE HAVING YOUR BABY!” she shouted excitedly.
Immediately, everyone burst into action. I was told to get on the bed, we had to get down to the delivery suite as I was a high risk pregnancy. “Don’t push, Beth, don’t you dare push. We’re not delivering this baby in the lift,” M scolded as her and T wheeled me into the lift.
We arrived at the delivery suite at 4.15am, 1 push later and a head appeared.
“Slow down, pant, Beth, don’t push,” someone said. “Now, baby pushes.”
4.16am and a gorgeous little baby was placed onto my chest. “Is my baby ok?” I asked, concerned as I hadn’t heard the cry I was expecting. “Yes, everything looks OK.”
“What have I got?” was my second question as I looked between the legs and seeing little boy bits. “Mam, I’ve got a baby boy. Mam, I’ve got a baby.” The placenta took a while to deliver, but I was busy with my little boy. He latched on perfectly for his first feed within minutes of being born and I was already totally in love with my baby boy.
Later, T and M puzzled over my waters as they didn’t break throughout labour, and they didn’t follow Little Man out. In fact, we have no idea where they went, they just seemed to vanish.
It was a lovely labour, and an easy birth. Little Man’s shoulder grazed me on the way out, but other than that it was perfect. Established labour was worked out at 3 hours and 55 minutes, and 4cm to delivery happened within 46 minutes.
Little Man
13th August 2005
4.16am
8lb 3oz"
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