I recently gave birth to our little miracle. At 3.18pm on the 3rd of June 2012, the long-awaited Gabriel Arthur Jeffers came into this world. Being of a somewhat scientific nature, I wrote the following diary entry at 5.30am in bed 11 at the Orange base Hospital maternity ward. I knew that 'nature' would help me 'forget' recent events and that my memories would soon be subsumed by an overwhelming love and gratefulness for the perfect little person that had entered our lives. However, as a mum that had been through a birth experience that was quite literally, the opposite of what she had wanted, I felt compelled to record the event as impartially as possible.
For the record, I was inseminated via IVF protocol (with ICSI), and enjoyed an unremarkable pregnancy in which my Blood Pressure, weight and Blood Sugar readings all remained steadily within the "low risk" category. All ultrasounds measured Gabriel at a few days ahead of expected outcomes and utterly normal. I was classified as "low risk" and remained that way throughout the pregnancy.
My Husband I researched birthing extensively, and as a low risk mother, decided to opt for a midwife run Birthing Centre (Murunduu Dhara in Orange) instead of a hospital birth. Although the centre was an hour and a half from our home, we were confident in the midwives there and very happy with our prenatal care and support with these dedicated women. Like every other woman, I attended fortnightly appointments and finally, weekly ones right up to term. Gabriel always came through with flying colours and was 4/5 engaged at our last appointment and positioned beautifully (LOA). Everything indicated that my planned unmedicated waterbirth would go smoothly and to plan.
DIARY 4/6/2012 5.30am
Well, I'm sitting in Bed 11 Maternity at Orange Base Hospital waiting until visiting hours officially open. Yesterday at 3.18pm Gabriel Arthur was born via an emergency C-section after me being in labour for 27 hours with no pain relief except gas and air. I am completely in love with my son but his birth was the most horrendous day of my life.
After the morning's acupuncture I had a wee nap between 2 and 4pm and then some minor contractions began. Just like menstrual cramps, -nothing with a real 'pattern'. I cried on the way home from the acupuncture appointment, convinced it hadn't worked and that at 41 weeks I would be pressured into induction protocols. The birthing centre was inextricably linked to Orange Base Hospital you see, and regardless of my determination to avoid medical/pharmaceutical intervention, once I reached that 41 +3 mark, I would HAVE to submit to hospital tests and the 'recommendations' that would inevitable accompany them. Of course, I would still have a choice as to what I wanted to do, but would have the extra stresses of fighting against the 'system'.
By about 5pm they were every 10 minutes (the contractions), and by 9pm they were every 5 minutes. Brett and I sat on the balcony with multiple cups of tea and chatted while we timed them. At 9pm we called our midwife and she recommended we start the journey. We hopped into the car with me lying on the back seat with a mountain of pillows and drove to the birthing centre. I was very calm and breathing through contractions as I had been taught during our Calmbirth classes. I found that there was no such thing as a comfortable position to be in though! The contractions were all front and centre like massive menstrual cramps.
Mum and Dad arrived at the Centre about half an hour after we arrived and set about making tea, playing me soothing music (Vaughan Williams, Enya) and holding my hand. My own quilt and pillows were transferred to the big double bed so that Brett, Gabriel and I could cuddle and bond after birth. I used the birthing ball and floor mat constantly and was able to breathe through the ever-worsening contractions until about 3am. At that point, my midwives had me hop into the big birthing tub (bliss!) and I asked for the gas and air. By 4am I was in a a lot of pain and vocalising through contractions. I knew somewhere in the back of my mind that I was being 'noisy' but making the noises seemed to help so much! An examination was done and it was discovered that I was only 4cm dilated, ie. i was only just in what was considered 'active' labour. I cried with hopelessness on that news and by 6am I wasn't 'vocalising', -I was yelling like a tortured person and was in the most ungodly pain I had ever known. Brett had gone off for a nap, and my Dad (who had been asleep on the couch since 3am) awoke with the thought "That's not Catherine, -she was making far more circumspect noises...". I begged to be transferred to the hospital for an epidural. They ignored me for another 4 hrs of misery.The woman in the bed next to me has a screaming baby. She started at 1am and hasn't stopped. Apparently mum's milk hasn't come in and the little one is angry at being hungry. The midwives on duty are having a wee tiff about whether or not to give her a 15ml "top up" of formula so mum can get some rest...Breast nazi's vs mum advocates here! Little Gabriel is sleeping like a top, -shame I can't say the same right now!
Anyway anyway, -where was I? Oh yes, about 11am my waters broke and showed definite signs of meconium in the liquor. Finally, the midwives relented and called the ambulance. I yelled and screamed all the way to the hospital. By the time we arrived I was in so much agony I would honestly have shot myself if someone had given me a gun. The junior midwife/nurse assigned to me was an apallingly unsympathetic and supercilious bitch and was asked to continue on just gas and air. Intermittently she asked my mum to remove the gas and asked me to stop vocalising ("Now Catherine, just stop making the noise and concentrate on pushing"). I did try. I knew something was wrong. I didn't have the "pressure" feeling in my bottom. I didn't feel like I needed to do a big poo. I started to get extremely panicked. No one was helping me. I was in a hospital, -seconds away from pain relief and they weren't giving it to me.
A doctor arrived and asked for permission to do an examination. I yelled. Forming words was not an option. Brett consented and he shoved his big hands up my screaming vagina. I had to yell at him, begging "please stop!". Brett yelled at him again on my behalf. It was discovered that I was still only 8cm.
Finally, I heard the words I was dying for. I could have an epidural. It was another 2 hrs before I got one. My mum and Brett watched while I screamed in agony, helpless to do anything. The supercilious nurse asked me to "move up the bed please" and to "sit up". I couldn't. I started crying again and the crying/screaming/trying to breathe became a battle. Brett hoisted me up and the anaesthetist administered the epidural quickly and painlessly. It kicked in almost immediately and after all that agony, i could have married that man on the spot!
Finally a senior obstetrician arrived and i was able to answer his questions without screaming and yelling. Gabriel's heart rate was dropping dramatically with contractions. Apparently the awful doctor had fitted a head monitor to Gabe's scalp during the vaginal invasion and I was being monitored..who knew? Dr Scott (the lovely and amazingly youthful obstetrican) decided that it was time for theatre. I was wheeled in fairly promptly for an attempted instrumental intervention (forceps/venthouse), and if that didn't work, a c-section. It turned out, that on a much gentler and more skilled examination, Gabriel's head was facing my right hip and was flexed backwards, so the c-section was decided upon. Quite frankly, I had been screaming C-section at them for hours (ANYTHING to stop the pain). I didn't feel a thing except that I couldn't stop shaking or my teeth chattering madly (a side-effect of the anaesthetic). Probably the ONLY bad thing about the c-section was that I only got to see Gabe very briefly over the curtained barricade and then lay weeping watching Brett touching our son and cutting the cord on a Tv screen.
Brett sang 'per la Gloria' very gently to him as the nurses cleaned/weighed etc. I lay chattering and shaking while the anaesthetists commented on Brett's lovely singing voice. I had 1/2 an hour in recovery that I spent aching to hold my son, and then here, to bed 11 maternity ward to wait another hour while they kept Gabe in the Nursery under observation for rapid breathing. Finally, he was wheeled in in his plastic crib and put onto my breast. From zero to MUM in one fell swoop!
