Sam’s Birth Story

 Submitted by ChildFun Mama Kylie

So this is what being a Mum is all about huh? Sleepless nights and being vomited on at 3am, well, looking back at my birth I suppose I should have guessed that Sam wasn’t going to be an ‘easy’ child.

I went to the pre-natal classes before giving birth and I went back again after — to give them a mouthful of what I thought of their preparation and do you know what they told me?

They told me that if they let pregnant women know what it was REALLY like then it would just scare them. Well, excuse me, but I am guessing that many women experiencing their first looming ‘get-something-the-size-of-a-bowling-ball-out-of-there’ type experience wouldn’t mind a bit of honesty in the pre-natal preparation. I do have a friend to thank for telling me like it is — she told me it’s like trying to pass a watermelon, a BIG one.

My pregnancy wasn’t too bad in comparison to the other horror stories I’ve been delighted with by friends and family.

The birth though — hmmm, that’s a whole ‘nother story. I was under no illusions about what the pain would be like after being given the watermelon analogy from my dear friend and I was adamant, no drugs!

I think my husband and I headed to the hospital in the dead of night three, no, four times, thinking I was in labor — apparently I’d just eaten something that didn’t agree with me, or my baby, so they sent us home.

Then the real pain started, so we went back again — it was too early for me to be at the hospital they said, but it was certainly labor and I should rest as much as I can and come back in when the contractions were closer together and more severe.

“CLOSER TOGETHER!”. I screamed at them, “how much closer together should they be??? MORE SEVERE! Have you ever given birth”, I said to the male doctor who was poking at things only my husband was allowed near.

Relax they said, there’s plenty of time.

THREE DAYS later … I still had contractions for ranging from 10 minutes apart to 4 minutes apart — we called the hospital, this was getting ridiculous. OK, they said, sounds like labor’s not setting in, come on in now. Three days of contractions were enough for me — I sprinted my big belly and wobbly legs to the car ready to rock and roll while my husband was running around like a fool looking for the hospital bag that was already in the car from all the other times we’d made this trip in the past week.

When we got there they checked me out and said that I had not dilated anymore than the first time I was there — I think that’s when I went into shock.

“Give me the drugs”, I demanded, “NOW!”

So after a shot of pethadine I was feeling a little better and managed to get light naps in between the agony — then when the pethadine wore off, the pain really started.

My labor stalled twice, once it just stopped for some reason no one could explain so they gave me drugs in a drip to kick it on again. While they were putting the drip into my arm my husband fainted — all the staff ran to his assistance while I sat there with a needle halfway in a vain. I am not kidding you, it was the classic movie scene with my hubby flat out on the floor.

The second time my labor stalled was when the midwife from hell came on duty — she told me I needed an epidural and because I wouldn’t have one she refused to do any more than routine checks on me, no support, no help and she turned up that contraction inducing machine thingy as high as it would go, I think it was as high as it would go — it sure felt like it.

The pain was unbearable, she was horrid and I am certain that my body decided that she would not be delivering my child — she called the doctor and they talked me into an epidural, I screamed for my Mum, and sat in fear of all the horror stories I’d heard of epidurals. My husband ran out to phone my Mum, thankful that someone else might come to help him cope.

Up until then I had been on the gas — three out of four possible drugs ain’t bad, what would the fourth hurt — I began to reason with myself, hoping for an end to the pain.

And that epidural — oh boy, are they underrated or what? It was glorious.

Then a strange thing happened, the midwife from hell went off duty and all of a sudden I wanted to push — then I pushed for two hours until I thought my eyeballs were going to pop out of my head.

I can’t anymore, no please, I can’t — I begged the midwife to end it now. “Everyone says that sweetie”, it’s not long to go now.”

I grabbed her by her shirt and pulled her up into my face and spoke like I was possessed by the devil “You listen to me and you listen to me good, I CANNOT do this anymore, either give me more drugs, knock me out or GET THIS THING OUT OF ME!”

She called the doctor — he was nice, he had this suction thingy like a toilet plunger and they sucked that little baby out of there just as easy as you please — at least it felt like it at that point.

My first words to my son were “You’re an only child”.

They said my labor was 26 hours (not counting the three days of contractions before that) but I am sure it was longer, I counted four shifts of midwives and I’ve spent many long hours working out how long each shift is and I come up with 32 hours, I’m sure of it!


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