I have been meaning to and wanting to write this story for so long. Partly because when he was born, so many people wanted to hear about it and partly because it was so different to my previous 2 births, I want to remember how special it was, forever.
Backstory - I had a mini stroke (TIA) in 2012 after seeing a Chiropractor when I was living in Melbourne. I had no lasting effects from it and 6 months after was deemed at the same risk as someone who had never had one. During my pregnancy with Marlee, the obstetricians very strongly advised that I should have an elective caesarean because they believed there was a risk I could have another stroke. This whole thing is another long story, but despite the fact that I desperately wanted to have a vaginal birth and had a completely healthy pregnancy, I had a very strong “what if” feeling and was comforted by the fact that many, many women have cesareans and at that point it seemed the safer option. After Marlee’s birth, I resigned myself to the fact that any future births would also be via caesarean.
Jai, our second baby was born via emergency caesarean a week early, after going into spontaneous labour and rushing to the hospital on a Friday night. I was in labour for most of the day before I realised it was actually labour (I have had loads of braxton hicks with all 3 pregnancies). While it was called an emergency, it was all very calm - the surgeon had time to have his dinner while we waited patiently, through some lovely contractions, even though we knew how the birth would occur. With Jai, when we went to the theatre, I was 4cm and fully effaced (completely thinned and shortened). There were comments that labour progressed so well and what a shame I wasn’t able to have a go at a vaginal delivery. This really hurt considering I feel that I had previously been pressured into birthing via caesarean, despite my wishes. Side note - I consider myself extremely lucky to have the experiences I did but I think these things are worth mentioning as sometimes people don’t seem to realise how powerful their words and opinions can be when a mother is doing her best to make informed decisions about the best way forward for herself and her baby whilst in possibly the most vulnerable state in her life.
Fast forward 3 years to Mikaere and the year of the lockdown. Our beautiful baby boy was a complete surprise and even though I loved him endlessly from the moment I knew I was pregnant, coming to terms with the idea of three children was a big deal for our family. I was getting Marlee and Jai ready for kindy one Thursday morning and amidst the chaos, I had a sudden urge to do a pregnancy test. I’d had no symptoms and we hadn’t been trying to have another baby, but standing at the bench making lunches, a voice popped into my head and I couldn’t ignore it. I had some tests from my midwife mum, so I peed on one. Almost instantly there were two lines and I think my eyes nearly popped out of my head! That was the day before valentines day and I don’t even remember if we wished each other well that day. We were in shock for a wee while (one of us possibly longer than the other). Following our 12 week scan, which by that stage I had to do on my own (thanks Covid), we were told by phone that there was a moderate chance of our baby having a genetic disorder and we would have a phone call with an obstetrician to discuss our options. In my own head there weren’t any options, but being in a relationship obviously means my thoughts and feelings aren’t the only one to consider. The next few months were agony, waiting for a phone call, having the phone call with the outcome of deciding on a blood test sent to Australia to inform us more accurately about the changes. By the time we got the results I was around 16 weeks pregnant and very much in love with the wee bump in my tummy. These tests showed there was minimal chance of a genetic disorder and we could carry on as a “low risk” pregnancy, but around 30 weeks we would meet with the obstetrician to confirm plans for a caesarean. (There is a whole lot more I could say around this testing process, but I am very aware that my story is not just my own, so I will leave it there).
Even though I knew the outcome would be a caesarean, I asked my midwife if it would be possible for me to spontaneously go into labour, with an elective procedure booked for the latest date possible in my pregnancy. My midwife agreed, but the obstetrician did not. I was informed that contractions would increase the risk of uterine rupture following 2 previous c sections and the safest way forward was to book the operation at 39 weeks. Further research and chatting to a few midwives indicated to me that the risk was in fact very low, but in my 3 experiences it seems that from their point of view, they were doing their best to keep a mother and baby safe, whilst also ensuring they were advising what was best from their point of view. So an elective caesarean was booked for 39 weeks.
As I mentioned, I have had some intense braxton hicks with all 3 pregnancies from about 30 weeks. At 38 weeks, I woke up about 2am with contractions that lasted around an hour, then they went away. I didn’t time them because I assumed they were braxton hicks. I read the next day that it is common to have contractions early in the morning, lasting around an hour.
Fast forward a week to the night before our surgery and everything was planned, packed and organised. Dave and I were going to drop Marlee and Jai at Nana’s early the next morning and head to the hospital to meet our new baby boy. We had organised for Nana, Grandma and our wonderful neighbours to help with care of the big kids as I was going to be in hospital for the next 3-5 days. At about 10pm, I finally went to bed, after making the kids’ lunches. I opted not to do it in the morning, so we weren’t all in a rush.
About 1.30am I woke up with contractions again. They felt exactly the same as the previous week, intense low in my belly and deep in my back. I had Marlee and Jai on either side of me in the bed and for about 30min I was in child’s pose in between my sleeping babes doing some deep breathing and rocking. I was telling myself they’d go away again just like the previous week. At 2.15am I started timing the surges on an app and discovered they were 10min apart, then after only 2 or 3 more they were 5min apart and lasting over a minute. I think I googled the same question “how do you know you are in labour” about 4 times. It’s so funny to know that in the back of my mind, I knew I was in labour however the front of my mind was saying “I am going to the hospital at 6.30am for surgery, he isn’t actually coming yet”. At almost 3am I literally paced up and down the hallway about 10 times trying to decide if I wake Dave or called the midwife, or called my Mum (also a midwife). I didn’t want to wake anyone up at 3am and be a nuisance (omg wtf - but I know so many mums who have said the same thing!). I went to the toilet for something to do, noticed brown discharge and thought “hmm that might be that show they talk about”.. I decided on calling the midwife, knowing that my own wasn’t on call that weekend. I didn’t know it yet, but I was about to a conversation with the woman who would become the midwife of my dreams, Annie Kinloch (I have no issues telling you her name because she was absolutely incredible). Annie calmly suggested going to the hospital would be a good idea, considering contractions were 5min apart and that my labour with #2 baby had progressed quite quickly. I started to feel quite emotional and a wee bit worried however I kept telling myself “it’s fine, we will get to hospital and go to surgery and all will be ok”. I woke Dave up as gently as I could saying “Babe, I think I’m in labour” He shot up faster than I’ve ever seen and went into “let’s get moving mode” (that’s the pc version). We called his Mum to say we would drop the kids off, then about 5 minutes later, my waters broke which was a completely new experience for me. It never happened with the first 2 babies. I just felt like I was wetting myself and couldn’t control it. I called out to Dave where panic mode had definitely set in, then I called my Mum to inform her of the situation. I told her I felt like I needed to do a poo so I would go do that and hung up. She text me and said she thought we should call an ambulance as it sounded like baby was coming. I read the text, but kind of ignored it (sorry mama) as we had a plan and I felt like we would be faster than an ambulance (not giving thought to the fast that an ambulance would take us exactly where we needed to be). Once my waters broke, we called Dave’s mum back and asked her to come to our place as we figured waking our kids up, then dropping them off to her in the middle of the night wouldn’t be a quick getaway scenario.
So this entire time (which was only about another 30min) I was having contractions every 5min, stopping to breathe and lean on whatever was closest to me. In the car on our way, I had to balance myself up on my hands as sitting was ridiculously uncomfortable. 20min later we were arriving at the delivery suite and my head was completely calm, replaying Jai’s birth. The contractions were painful, but not unbearable and my mantra was “This will be over soon and we will have our baby”, meaning they would whisk us off to the theatre and pump me full of drugs.
As soon as we arrived I changed into a gown and was put on the monitor to see what stage of labour we were at. We met Annie (agreed she was lovely) and at this point I can’t remember who did what. So we discovered I was 4cm, fully effaced, the same as my labour with Jai. Instead of waiting for the surgeon to have his dinner this time though, we had to wait for twins to be born via cesarean in the theatre. My thoughts at this point “why is there only one theatre?!”. I was given something to try and slow down my contractions, but as soon as the next few came, Annie said “hmm that doesn’t seem to be working” and we carried on.
Contractions were getting super intense now. I had to stay on the monitor and it was becoming very difficult to find a comfortable position. In between contractions I was sweet as, but once they came, I needed my lower back rubbed and I was twisted around grabbing the pillow and doing my best to breathe. I was telling myself “it’s ok, it will be over soon” every time. Deep belly breaths, eyes closed and thinking about my baby. The hospital staff began my surgery prep and finally the orderly walked through the door, announcing the theatre was almost ready and we could go. I said “oh my gosh I love you” and he replied “I hope you’re talking to your cold face cloth!”.
The theatre staff were really lovely - asking me a tonne of prep questions as we went along, but waiting patiently while I had another and another and another contraction. I don’t know how far between they were by now, but there wasn’t much time for a conversation!
Dave had to wait outside while I was given the spinal, a catheter and the rest of the prep. I sat sideways on the bed with a pillow across my lap and was given instructions for how to sit while the anaesthetist did her thing. I had to tuck my chin and curl over, rounding my back as much as I could. As I did, someone said “wow, you’ve done this before” and I remember thinking “this is the last contraction’. I had been informed, as they have to about the risks of the anaesthetic and one of those risks was that it might not work. As in, she wouldn’t be able to get the needle into the right space. As I felt another contraction coming she told me it hadn’t gone it. So she would try again. I made it through that next contraction, telling myself “it’s ok, this is the last contraction”. It didn’t work a second time. They told me they would try again. I asked “what am I doing wrong, do I need to do something else”, the reply “No no no you’re doing everything perfectly, sometimes it’s just really difficult to get it in” (they went straight in with my previous 2 babies).
Annie had been with me this whole time, reassuring me, telling me I was doing a good job and just looking at me with so much care and support, I felt completely safe with her next to me, even though I had met her only a few hours ago. I looked up at her as I felt another contraction and said “wow, these are getting really, really intense now”. She looked concerned and asked if I could feel downward pressure. I couldn’t, it just really freaking hurt!I held still for the 3rd spinal attempt, but I felt in my heart that it wasn’t going to work. It didn’t. I asked “what happens now” and the reply was “We have the option of a general anaesthetic”. I said “There is no way I want to be asleep to have this baby” and I could feel some panic start to rise, where previously there had been calm and constant self talk that it would all be ok, just keep breathing. The very next contraction I felt so much pressure and yelled something like “woah I feel like he is coming”. I had been sitting on the bed this whole time, through these now awful contractions. I don’t remember clearly how things happened at this point, but someone suggested an examination to see how far I was. I asked if I could stand for this part and was devastated to learn that I had to lay down. On my back. Worst position ever if you’re having contractions in your back! I did as instructed and we discovered I was 9cm dilated and someone asked if I wanted to attempt a vaginal birth. I said “heck yes, am I allowed to get off the bed now?”. I was.
So now I was leaning over the bed, gripping the forearms of some lovely theatre staff member while Annie was behind me keeping an eye on things. I suddenly realised I was missing something and asked if Dave could come back in now - the reply was something like “oh my gosh yes! Where’s Dave? Get Dave!” and someone went to tell him something like “there has been a change of plan and Alicia is going to give birth naturally”. Dave burst back into the room straight to my side with the biggest smile and I don’t remember what he said but the general idea was “this is awesome, you’re amazing, you can do this”. He was pumped, haha.
So now I had Annie and Dave on either side of me and this unknown nurse in front, possibly with sore forearms now. She had to leave (maybe cos she needed to save her arms?), so Dave swapped places with her. Since I was still in theatre, the rest of the staff stayed and they were all behind me, fully cheering me on. It was the typical “you can do it, you’re so strong Alicia, you’re amazing, push now” and if I hadn’t been in so much pain and focused on what I was doing, I would have been cracking up! Of all the people in the room, Dave was the only male and it definitely felt awesome to be surrounded by women and so encouraged. In hindsight I am so grateful to all of those people because not one of them mentioned to me the risk of stroke. Annie repeatedly told me the baby was fine and I was fine and now I didn’t have any fear, I was just focused on each contraction and getting my baby out.
So I had no idea that during birth, with each contraction the baby descends, then ascends to have a wee rest before the next surge. It felt like his head was almost out, then it went so far back in again! I asked “where is he going? Why is he going back in?!” and I was reassured everything was as it should be, he was just having a rest before the next one. Turns out I am quite a vocal mother in labour (not a single obscenity though - proud of that) and channel a cow (so does my sister, we laugh about that!). Annie told me to focus all the energy that was coming out my mouth, downwards and then to really start pushing. So I have no idea how many pushes, but I got off the table at 6am and baby was born at 6.34am with me in a deep squat position and 1 foot on a stool. The ring of fire is a very real thing but the feeling of the baby’s head actually being born and then his shoulders was the most incredible relief. Annie bought him up to my chest and I stood there holding him saying “hi baby, hi baby” on repeat. They helped me to lay down back on the bed (keen as for that now) and covered us up while they massaged my tummy to deliver the placenta. Now that is another incredible feeling - the whoosh and the relief in that puku which has felt so tight and full for so long!
While Dave and I spent the next moments meeting and loving our baby, the midwives determined that I had some labial grazing and a 2nd degree tear which they could repair back up at delivery suite. Annie chatted about how great the birth was and how cool that I did it with no drugs. I was shocked “what do you mean no drugs? What was she putting in my back?” Annie reminded me that the anaesthetist couldn't get the needle in to administer the drugs and I find it hilarious to recall now at the time I had thought she was just sending drugs all over place, they just weren’t going to where they needed too. Duh - a woman in labour doesn’t always think rationally ok?! So honestly I think there was some kind of placebo effect that I thought it wasn’t as painful as it could have been because I’d had some drugs.
I got to keep our baby on my chest and he latched for some milk while we were still in the theatre. We got to bypass the recovery room, they wheeled me through and told the staff there to take my name off the surgery list because I’d already had the baby. We went up to the ward about the same time I was actually due to arrive at the hospital that morning. Baby got his top to toe check later and had some cuddles with his Dad while I got some stitches and then we got to rest and enjoy meeting our new baby boy who wouldn’t have a name until a few days later.
There is a bit more to our story from the first few days, but it’s 7.30am now and I’ve been writing for nearly 2 hours on the day that Mikaere is 6 months old. So I’ll come back to this another time! It’s been more therapeutic than I imagined writing this story and a wonderful feeling to be able to relive our wonderful experience. I have heard many, many birth stories and am very aware that so many births don’t go the way that mothers so dearly hope they will. It is not lost on me what an incredible experience I had and I am truly grateful. I am especially grateful to Annie, our midwife who was a stranger for all of 5 minutes, then became such a kind, encouraging and supportive person. I honestly think things may have turned out so differently, had I not had someone who was clearly so experienced and confident in her care. I am even grateful for the anaesthetist because if the spinals had worked, I wouldn’t have had that incredible experience.
If you got this far, thanks for reading my novel!
xx
