Lachlan's Birth Story

My first birth was certainly an experience—it was difficult and traumatic. Regardless, I will always find beauty in it.  My son, Lachlan, was worth every second of the pain and I learned so much from his birth that would make my next natural delivery far easier. I have blogged the story of this subsequent labour, under the title Tales of a VBAC Hypnobirth.

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I was well overdue with Lachlan and it felt like I had been pregnant forever and a day. I was so very over being ridiculously huge and uncomfortable. When the time to be induced came, the hospital was overcrowded with labouring mothers. They informed me I would need to phone the birthing suite each night to see if a bed was available and that if my labour commenced spontaneously in the mean, they would of course deal with it; however, they would not proceed with an induction without adequate staff or facilities.

Each night I phoned the outcome remained the same: no free beds. As Easter 2010 drew nearer, the hospital would be even more understaffed and so, scheduled me in for the night of Wednesday, 31st March. The hope was to get my baby delivered safely before the first public holiday which would be Good Friday.

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My mother took me to hospital on the Wednesday night. Upon arrival at the birthing suite, an obstetrician examined me and confirmed that my cervix had not even begun to dilate. He commenced my induction with Cervidil and explained to Mum and I that nothing would happen overnight. They planned to break my waters at 9am the following morning to "get things moving."  I would be admitted into the maternity ward until such time.

My bed was in a shared room filled with new mothers and their babies. It was around 9pm when my mother went home for the night to rest up for the big day. I tried to sleep myself but the combination of crying babies, coupled with my racing mind, both excited and apprehensive about what was to come, made that quite the arduous task. My abdomen had also begun cramping up. I attempted to ignore the unpleasant sensation but the pains were becoming more and more intense until eventually, I could no longer control my audible groans.

I pressed my buzzer for a nurse before checking the time on my phone—it was 11pm. When the nurse arrived, I told her I believed I was in labour. She immediately brushed my suggestion aside and insisted the Cervidil could not work that fast and that I would only be experiencing Braxton Hicks.  She gave me two Paracetomol tablets and went in search of a heat pack.  

Neither of those things were helpful; the surges were only getting stronger. I looked at my phone again and saw it was now 1:10am and the next contraction had me in tears. I buzzed for the nurse a second time. 

"What's the problem now?" she asked with unconcealed annoyance.

I sobbed that I was positive I was labour. 

The nurse patronisingly assured me it was not possible for an induction to work that quickly and instead, ordered a sleeping pill for me.

The relentless agony continued; a sleeping pill never stood a chance against it. Despite this, I refused to even bother with buzzing the nurse anymore.

By 3am it felt like each contraction was rolling continuously into the next—I would later learn that this is what happens with the majority of induced births. The artificial contractions are much more forceful and frequent than the body's natural way of birthing.

I didn't need to buzz for the nurse by this point, I had gotten so loud she heard me and rushed in. She suggested a warm shower to ease the pain.

The nurse cranked the water on, then she was gone. I was alone again, wondering how I was going to get through labour itself, when I was already at breaking point with the alleged Braxton Hicks...

I stepped into the warm stream of water, letting it wash over my aching abdomen. Before I knew what was happening, a guttural scream ripped from my lungs. I braced myself against the shower wall, as I was projected into a whole new world of pain. Two nurses came running this time. The first ordered the second to get a wheelchair and then proceeded to tell me it was time to head to the birthing suite.

The same nurse, who had been insisting I was not in labour for the past four hours, helped me to get dry, dressed and settled in the wheelchair. As they wheeled me out, I realised I had forgotten to grab my phone. I asked if somebody could please call my mother and was told the doctors in the birthing suite would arrange that if they thought it was necessary.

~

We were greeted at the examination room and the doctor helped me onto the bed where it was then discovered I was 3cm dilated and indeed, in labour! The Cervidil was removed and I gritted my teeth, as another contraction tore through me. The doctor then offered me a Pethidine injection, which I gratefully accepted.

After my mother had been called, the doctor took me into one of the suites where a pretty, blonde, heavily pregnant midwife, wearing a hot pink T-shirt introduced herself: her name was Sarah.

I looked at the clock on the wall and noted it was now 4am. Sarah stayed with me until Mum arrived around 4:30am.

~

Tears of relief  filled my eyes when I saw my mother walking into the room. Mum held my hand as labour progressed. I soon found myself violently vomiting from the intensity of the pain. Nobody had showed us where the sick bags were and Mum, having to think fast, had grabbed the best thing she could see: the bin! 

It was around 6am and we buzzed for Sarah who returned with a second midwife. The new midwife took the bin away and handed me a sick bag, showing Mum where they were on the wall if we needed more. Sarah asked if I would like more Pethidine and I nodded.

Before leaving, Sarah set up the gas as the Pethidine would take a while to arrive. She waterproofed the gas so I could take it in the shower with me. Sarah then manually broke my waters in an attempt to speed my labour up.

~

I sat on a chair in the shower and Mum stood as far as she could from the water while still being close enough to hold my hand when needed. I was more comfortable under the warm water and it was strangely soothing. I was quite happy to stay in there for the rest of my labour.

Around 7:30am Sarah came back to check on me and realised I was in transition in the shower.

"Carla, we need to get you out and back on the bed. Your baby is coming." she said.

Mum helped me get dry and walked me back to the bed. I'd no sooner got back than I howled a primal, animal-like roar. Mum later described it as 'a jungle scream'. Once I was done roaring, I shouted for an epidural. Sarah told me it was too late for an epidural and it was now also too late for the second dose of Pethidine she had ordered. Terrified by this, I then insisted I wanted a C-section instead!

Sarah told me a C-section was also out of the question because my baby was crowning. She asked if I would like a mirror to see; my answer was, "Hell no!"

My body felt like it was being literally ripped in half.  I was still screaming loud enough to wake the dead until Sarah pointed out I was wasting my energy. She demonstrated tucking the chin down into the chest and using the energy to push, rather than shout.

I did as I was told and the second midwife placed my legs in stirrups. It honestly felt like my lady bits were on fire—I would later learn the burning I was feeling was actually due a second degree tear. Being my first birth, I assumed the burning sensation was normal but it's not. I didn't tear or need any stitches with my next natural birth and didn't experience the burning either.

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When I birthed Lachlan's shoulders I could feel him wriggling and that grossed me out. I voiced this to Sarah and she laughed.  

"That's a good thing!" Sarah said.

One more push and Mum joyfully declared he was out.  

"Thank fuck that's over," I breathed, letting my head fall back onto the pillow.

It was 7:54am and my perfect firstborn, weighing 7 pounds and 8 ounces, measuring 53cm long, had just come into the world. Sarah placed him on my chest and no sooner had she done this than he peed on me! I could not have cared less; I was just glad the torturous birth was over. Unbeknown to us though, the worst was yet to come...

~

Mum cut the umbilical cord and I looked at my son, crying tears of love and joy. Never had I seen anything so beautiful. He had the most stunning, deep-blue eyes and the sweetest, little face.

I received an injection in my leg to help birth my placenta. It came out promptly with a warm, 'whooshing' sensation and minimal pain... but that sensation only ceased for a moment before recommencing. I heard liquid hitting the floor and glanced down—blood was literally cascading off the end and sides of the bed onto the floor.

'She's haemorrhaging!' Sarah shouted, 'We need a doctor!'

Sarah grabbed Lachlan off my chest and thrust him into my mother's arms. That's the last thing I remember before I lost consciousness...

~

I came to with pain worse than anything I had experienced during any part of my labour or birth. A doctor was manually extracting retained pieces of placenta and blood clots and desperately trying to stop the bleeding. A second doctor handed me the gas again for pain relief.

'Stop! Please stop, it hurts so much,' I moaned, before losing consciousness again.

'Carla... Carla... stay with me, Carla.'  

My eyes fluttered open.

'Carla, I'm trying to keep you out of theatre. You've lost a lot of blood and we need to stop the bleeding,'  the doctor said.

I was too weak to reply. I slipped in and out of consciousness several times, each time waking to the excruciating pain, as the doctor worked on me for what felt like hours. When she was finally done, she stitched the tear and a blood transfusion was ordered for me. 

The bagged blood felt cold going into my veins and each time I looked at it, I was nauseated by the thought of somebody else's bodily fluids coursing through my body. There was no other option though. The significant amount of blood I had lost needed to be replaced. Later, when my haemoglobin level was still dangerously low, a second blood transfusion was ordered.

In the end, it was worth it; every bit of it. I would go through it a thousand times over for the gift of my son. ❤

~

This story of my first birth is something I have been wanting to write, since I was first asked to write about my VBAC Hypnobirth for my Hypnobirth practitioner's website in 2014.

The story of my second birth, via caesarean section, is also featured on Wonderland Wanderess under the title, Christopher Jr.'s Birth.

'Birth is the only blind date where you know you will meet the love of your life.' ~Author unknown

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