Pregnancy 1/5, Birth 1/3

I am having to think back on this as it was back in 2001. Some of the memories I have are a little vague, however, some are as vivid as if it happened yesterday. These memories fill me with complete joy. They are the memories of when I evolved from the Emma who only had herself to think about, where choices made only really affected or mattered to me. I was no longer alone, even when there was no one else around. I had 2 hearts beating within. I was beginning to discover love like no other. I was becoming a mum for the very first time.

Since I was a little girl I knew what I wanted, what I wished for. A loving family home with a husband and children. I grew up in exactly that, and considered myself extremely lucky. Yes, there were moments where my brothers would fight like cats and dogs, my sister would get mad at me because I'd borrowed her new jeans without asking, all whilst mum and dad would be trying to keep the peace. But these were wonderful times that we all fondly look back on. I guess this was what life was all about to me.

In 2001, after only trying to conceive for 6-8 months I peed on a stick and there it was, that thin line confirming exactly what we wanted. This is probably TMI but I remember thinking straight after the 'conceiving moment' this is it, which I voiced to my husband. He hoped it would be the case but didn't want me to build my hopes up. But I knew it, I had a deep sense, a deep feeling and my instincts were right. We were thrilled, our families

were thrilled and I changed overnight.

Prior to this magical moment I had suffered extreme panic and anxiety episodes. I'd been prescribed medication to help from the age of 17, had several sessions with counsellors, had to cancel a holiday of a lifetime because I just couldn't face going, planned our wedding around what I knew I could cope with, and avoided going to pubs, restaurants, hospitals and on public transport. The cause was my fear of vomit which escalated to massive extremes over the years. I suffered emetophobia and it was ruining my life every single day. I am sure it ruined my husbands life for a while too, and for that I am sorry. However the moment I discovered I was pregnant my inner trembles turned to calm. My manic whirlwind of a head went quiet. It was like an invisible switch flicked immediately. Everything from that moment on changed, I had my developing baby in mind. It was all for her and no longer just about me.

I wasn't sure what I had to do now, I'd never done this before. I rang the doctors and they booked me an appointment with a midwife. She went through all of the booking in questions with me, took my baseline details and gave me some leaflets, 'Emma's Diary', and my pregnancy folder with my green notes in. This information listed what was to happen, when, and I found it super exciting. The weeks ticked by quite slowly at first. I remember being so impatient wanting to have that first scan, which seemed like a huge milestone but not once did I have any doubts.

The first scan confirmed everything was going well. We took our picture home and began to tell our families. It wasn't long after this that the morning sickness started. Something prior to becoming pregnant I dreaded suffering from, mainly because of my emetophobia. I was so surprised when not only did it not bother me, but I was happy about being sick! I remember thinking to myself 'yay, I'm being sick because I'm pregnant'. The sickness occurred throughout the day, particularly when I brushed my teeth! It passed by about 16 weeks and it didn't cause much of an issue thankfully.

Something I loved to do all the way through pregnancy was to read about changes happening within my body, and what stage of development my baby was at week by week. It fascinated me. I would read the same thing over and over again, picturing every part of it intensively. I would cradle my ever growing bump, talk to it, nurturing it in every way possible. I have always been someone who prefers natural alternatives and remedies. I was no different during pregnancy. I began reading up on labour, birth the ways in which I could support the process. I looked after my health by eating nutritious foods, avoided the things on the 'not recommended during pregnancy' list, kept hydrated, exercised and practiced meditation. I was taking this seriously but it wasn't an effort. it was like instincts kicked in. Over the course of pregnancy I lost 3 stone in weight, not purposely, purely because of the changes I made. I think it helped that I stopped stressing over my weight for the first time in my life. I let go of all the issues that my head went through regarding 'dieting' and never feeling 'good enough'. I mean, at this moment in time I felt more than good enough. I felt incredible. I was creating a whole new human for goodness sake. Nothing gets more amazing than that.

I remember the first time the midwife (I saw the same one throughout my pregnancy just to add, continuity was still a thing back then!) had a feel of my tummy and took my bump measurement. Or rather I remember what she said to me. I remember because I felt mortified and embarrassed! She said 'baby seems to be a bit on the large side, but I think most of that is mum and her tum'. For someone who has always been super conscious of her weight due to some ingrain past issues, this was not ideal. In fact it was safe to say our community midwife did not have much of a bedside manner. I had been pre-warned about her prior to our first encounter, however, I am someone who likes to make up my own mind about people instead of going by hearsay. I didn't dislike her. I don't dislike many people. Yes, she was direct and to the point, lacked the ability to realise some of her words might hurt peoples feelings, but on the whole she was ok. Plus I didn't know any different.

After my continuous reading, researching and talking to people who had experienced pregnancy and birth I had the idea that I wanted a homebirth. It was always something that had been at the back of my mind but now was the time to give it considerable thought. I looked at the pro's and the con's and the pro list outweighed the con's considerably. To me it was a no brainer. I was not sick, I was pregnant. Woman have been growing and delivering babies since forever, It is what our bodies are designed to do. I was healthy, age was in my favour and most of all, the thought of going into hospital scared the shit out of me! Home felt safer, where I was more relaxed and calm. This was how I wanted to bring my baby into the world. My husband wasn't too convinced. His thoughts were that surely hospital was the right place, the place where there were numerous midwives on hand, where there were doctors 'just in case!'. My next antenatal appointment arrived. The one where I was going to discuss homebirth as an option. Hubby came with me as he wanted to discuss his concerns too. I was looking forward to the appointment, excited by the prospect and hearing what my midwife had to say. I thought she would be supportive, be as excited as me. How naive was I! The words that left her mouth when I mentioned it gave me a blow to the stomach that would have made my baby somersault. The words 'oh no, you are not allowed with your first, it's too dangerous' left me feeling deflated, gutted and petrified for the first time during my pregnancy. My midwife let me down. She was not this supportive person I had read about, she didn't discuss it at all, just told me, like it was fact, and I knew no different. I didn't know I had choices, options or rights! It's safe to say my husband was relieved. I felt low for a short time but knew these negative feelings would not help either of us, me nor baby. So I picked myself up and gave myself a good talking too. I was having my baby at hospital and there was nothing I could do about it!

The weeks went by. We continued to prepare by getting the nursery decorated, joined the NHS antenatal group and had a brief tour of the hospital. At least I now had an idea of where we were going when the time came. I could visualise it and make it familiar in my mind. Take away some of the fear I'd attached to hospitals from my past experiences. Then I put hospital out of my head and returned my focus on to that of my baby. I loved being pregnant, feeling those first flutters, then feeling the flutters get stronger and turn to full on movements that you could physically see. I would touch and talk to 'bump' constantly. Bath time was my favourite part of the day. I would run a deep warm bath, with safe essential oils and lie there for ages. This was when most activity occurred. I'd call hubby up to watch my stomach change and morph into the most bizarre shapes. It was always the time when baby would get hiccups too. We joked that they must have swallowed some bath water. Such precious memories.

I was now at the stage of writing up my birth plan. Of course I had read a lot about this too. I knew that certain drugs could pass across the placenta to my baby. No thank you! The thought of feeling out of control was not high (no pun intended) on my list either. So pethidine was a big 'NO, NO' for me. The plan consisted of; wanting to remain active, will ask for pain relief, have a TENs machine to help manage pain, would like to use birthing pool, prefer to tear naturally over episiotomy, husband to cut the cord, skin to skin and plan to breastfeed. So nothing out of the ordinary from what I'd read.

Two evenings prior to my due date and I started feeling tightening's, Braxton Hicks so I thought! That night, during the early hours, I woke often and the only thing that helped was getting out of bed, leaning on the window sill and gently swaying from side to side. I naturally breathed through, remaining calm, then popped back into bed for more sleep until I woke again. Hubby had woke with me each time, becoming a little alarmed, but I reassured him that all was well, that I wasn't in labour, that he was fine to go to work, and that I would call him if I needed. His concern was that, as a delivery driver he could be miles away if I wanted him home. Again, I reassured him I was fine and birth was miles off, these were just practice contractions and first babies take ages.

Our home was close to my sisters house. We have always had a sixth sense with one another. You know, the type of thing where we buy the same clothes without knowing, where we say what the other one is thinking, that type of thing. At this point she had two young children of her own and was pregnant with her third, three months behind me. Her route to school passed our house and on this particular morning something told her that she needed to pop in. She walked through the back door which led straight into our living room and said ' oh my god, you're in labour'. I was sat there with my TEN's machine on that hubby had correctly placed before leaving for work to see if it would help with the tightening's and cramps I was feeling. I had the fan pointing at me, trying to keep me cool in the mid July heat, watching daytime TV. She laughed at my reply when I said 'am I?' She was beside herself with excitement. She kept me company for a while then left me to rest, instructing me to get in touch with her if I needed anything. It was lovely knowing I had people close by.

Hubby was relieved to get back home. I hadn't called him to say that my sister thought I was in 'real' labour because I felt fine. I didn't want to stress him out. The afternoon and early evening drifted by, along with the contractions that were now getting stronger and lasting longer. I telephoned my parents to let them know. Mum was going to be at the birth with us as extra support and because I knew it would mean the world to her, seeing her grandchild enter the world from womb.

I kept my strength up as much as possible by eating little and often, and kept myself well hydrated. The TENs machine was doing it's job and was now set to a high level. I was coping with contractions but getting really tired. Hubby was right by my side, timing contractions. He kept saying ' I think we should go to hospital now' but I didn't feel it. It's as if I had become so in tune with my own body, I just knew. I am sure he thought it was just because I didn't want to go to hospital, that I was just putting it off, but it wasn't. I had come to terms with the fact that this was where I was going to birth our baby. Whether I was pleased with this decision being taken out of my hands and made for me was another matter. But not a matter to be concerned with at that moment, now was precious, now was a time to allow my body to just be, a time for me to go with it. I trusted with every bit of my being that it knew exactly what to do. Why wouldn't it? I told him I need to sleep. We went and lay on our bed and I drifted in and out of the most perfect naps. I'm not exactly sure how long we lay there for, I only knew how I felt, as hubby continued to time contractions. I was so calm and relaxed. I allowed the contractions to come and go, breathing through them, using the boost button on the TENs. In between I felt as though I was dozing off for a good twenty minutes each time, before another surge ebbed and flowed. I knew that each contraction was bringing us closer to meeting our baby, finding out if we had a 'Daisy' or an 'Elliot/Oliver/Arthur', we couldn't decide on a boys name!

Hubby's familiar words came again, 'I think it's time we go to hospital now, please Emma'. I remember thinking contractions still weren't regular enough, thinking they were still twenty minutes apart. The timings told me otherwise. I was having three contractions in ten minutes and they were lasting over one and a half minutes. We had hit the magic number of when they tell you to go in. It was around 10pm. He called the hospital and explained the situation but they wanted to speak to me, they asked me a few questions in between contractions and then once they'd decided we were actually in labour said to make our way in. I called my parents, asking them to meet us at the hospital. This was it. As we were grabbing a few last minute bits, double checking the birth and baby bag my sister arrived. She had all good intentions, as always. She knew hubby probably wouldn't have eaten much so turned up with a bag of chips. The smell was horrific and sent me into a bit of a frenzy. I remember saying 'please get that smell out of the house, it is making me feel sick'. Bless her, she felt terrible but was also excited at the prospect of us going into hospital to have our baby. She waved us off, apologising profusely and told us to call her as soon as we can. For anyone wondering, this moment did not put me off fish and chips for the future, the smell not has no negative affect, and continues to make my mouth water!

I have to say travelling in a car during labour is not the most fun thing I have ever done. Not being able to move around during contractions, not being able to manage pain well and then adding speed bumps into the mix was horrific. Luckily the journey was only twenty minutes. We met my parents in the carpark, I had a big hug off my dad before he returned home and the rest of us headed in slowly, stopping and rocking with each contraction. We arrived at labour ward around midnight. We were taken to an assessment room, hubby handed them my birth plan. They performed their regular checks, all was well. I had a vaginal examination which I remember being really uncomfortable. I was told to relax! I'm sorry, you try relaxing when you've got what feels like someone's whole hand inside you as they try to determine if you are in established labour. Surely looking at me, seeing how my body is behaving should tell you that! I get that everyone is different and handles pain differently but I wasn't stopping talking every couple of minutes to sway, take deep breaths, press my TENs boost button and make small mooing noises like a cow for no reason! Anyway, hospital protocols and policies and all that! I wasn't a difficult patient and I complied with everything that was asked of me. What a 'good girl' I was, which I was told a few times by midwives! The vaginal examination declared what I already knew, I was in established labour at 4cm dilated.

I asked if the birth pool was free and to my delight it was. I had heard that it is often not available. The midwives went to fill up the pool and left the three of us, well four including bump. I remember being chuffed that I wasn't anxious about being at the hospital, but it wasn't home. There were no creature comforts except for the odd item I had brought with me, such as my pillow. The bed wasn't as comfy and didn't fit both me and hubby on, there was machinery everywhere and a fish tank for my new baby. However, it was what it was and it didn't deter me from anything.

The pool was ready. I stripped down and got in. At first the water felt lovely. I felt the warmth cocoon me, as the depth of the water took the heaviness of pregnancy from every limb. It was bliss, until it wasn't! All of a sudden I went into a state of panic. The water felt too hot, too imprisoning and I felt I couldn't breathe. I wanted to get out. I wanted to go home, be anywhere else to where I was right this instant! Those around me tried to calm me down but I wasn't having any of it. 'I need to get out' was all I kept saying. I think I had only been in there for about an hour. The midwives looked a bit pissed off with me to be honest, I felt as though they were annoyed that they had only just filled the pool up and now I didn't want it anymore. But I realise that could just be my interpretation of it. I got out, mum helped dry me off. The midwives said we would need to leave the room and go to another in case anyone else wanted a pool birth. I went to walk out unclothed, my head was not with it anymore. They told me other dads might be around so I needed to put something on to cover me up. I really felt I had lost it at this point. I was angry that I wasn't still at home.

Then everything changed. My body felt completely different again. The calm came back and the contractions felt very different. No longer were my instincts to sway and breathe through them. Instead I wanted to bend my knees, my gentle moos now came from deeper within, with a sound that matched. I was instinctively starting to push. It was now the midwives who seemed to panic. I was told 'you can't push yet, you are only 4cm', Well, my body did not get that memo, and trying to NOT push was impossible. They decided to give me another examination even though four hours hadn't passed due to the change in my behaviour! Well, surprise, surprise, I was in fact 10cm. My body decided not to follow the misguided text book and take one hour to dilate 0.5cm. It had done 6cms in less than an hour - WITH A FIRST BABY!!! Upon reflection and knowing what I do now as a mum of three, doula since 2007 and half midwife trained walkaway, I realise that the water deepened my already relaxed state and took me to the point of transition. Transition displays in one of two ways from what I have witnessed and experienced. It either stops everything for a period of time, giving you chance to catch your breath, rest, compose yourself and build up strength ready for the next stage. Or, like in my case, it sends you into turmoil. A sense of overwhelming, irrational panic where people tend to want to be wherever they are not! They ask to go home if they are at hospital or midwifery led unit, want to go to hospital if they are having a homebirth, or decide they have changed their minds completely, they no longer want a baby! This is why I like to prepare people for this stage during antenatal sessions. That way a birth partner can remind them that this stage will pass and either use the time wisely to rest and gain strength if they are at the 'labour seems to have stopped transition stage' or guide them back to a place of calm if they are at 'transition turmoil stage'.

So now the midwives informed me that I was indeed allowed to push. Thank you! Things changed for me from here. I no longer felt so in control. I knew my body was still doing all the work along with my baby but there was a noticeable shift looking back. I was no longer letting go, I had allowed my head to take control. Everything magnified from this moment. The pain, the panic, the fear. It was then I decided to try 'gas and air'. I explained I was anxious about it. At this point in my life, even prior to pregnancy, I was avoiding everything that made me feel 'out of control' due to past personal experiences with alcohol and drugs, so the thought of feeling this way during labour scared me. The midwives explained that if I didn't like it all I had to do was stop inhaling it and the feeling would pass quickly. I half-heartedly took the first few sucks. It didn't taste horrible, didn't make me feel sick and didn't help with contractions, which were now intensifying rapidly. The midwife told me I had to inhale it like I was filling my boots! I took it in more purposefully this time and found it really helped. In fact I loved it a bit too much!

All checks throughout labour and birth showed that baby was coping well during contractions and that all was well. Some time passed and baby's head became visible. Hubby and mum were in tears of joy and I was high on gas and air. Then came the worst part for me. The bit I had read as being described as 'the ring of fire'. Baby was crowning and the description felt spot on. Was this because I was expecting it to hurt? Do we believe what we are told, what we read, what we hear? If that's the case then it is important we share the non-horror stories with other women, making them aware alternatives are more than possible. Anyway, there I was, on my back by the way, as the midwives had told me this was the best way, the best position. What I had read now went out of the window. I distinctively remember feeling petrified of tearing because that is exactly how it felt. I was scared to push any harder even though they were telling me 'push with everything you have, push right down into your bottom, like you are having a poo!' It wasn't that I didn't know 'how' to push, it was that I was scared. No one had explained any of this to me. How much more painful would it feel? How much can you tear? I got to a certain point and then held back. I didn't want to push and cause even more intense pain.

At this point they decided I needed help, that I couldn't do it on my own. I was told 'we will have to give you an episiotomy but not to worry, we will numb you first'. Don't worry! now I was absolutely crapping myself. This was not what I wanted. There was no discussion, no other option, no other way to try and ease the intensity, such as using a warm compress or acupressure. Nothing, just this is what we need to do! Of course I complied yet again, after all, they know best!

I saw the needle. They were ready to inject into my vagina and that was enough for me. I remember thinking 'no thank you' and found the strength to push through the burn and my babies head was born before the needle hit. I has been holding back through fear, through the unknown, when in actual fact it was fine, certainly no worse than it had been. If only this had been covered prior so I could have eliminated that fear! There were more tears of joy from hubby and mum, who were fantastic throughout. I couldn't have done it as well without their constant support and reassurance. I remember enjoying this moment. The moment where I had got through the part I had unknowingly, until it was happening, had been dreading. The moment when there seemed to be another brief pause, bringing some calm. Then there was another build up, bring the final contraction. The one that brought our firstborn into the world. Every bit of the pain was erased immediately. I felt like a goddess. I felt like a warrior. I was overjoyed. My hubby announced to the room we had a baby girl. The midwife gave him some scissors and he cut the umbilical cord. Our baby Daisy is here I said, as I picked her up and put her to my chest. The love I had developed while she was growing from within increased tenfold. It was instant and immense and grew every second. We were all in floods of happy tears and it was the greatest moment of my whole existence up to that point. We were planning on breastfeeding and she latched on straight away. This was pure perfection. Daisy was born at 3:15am on her due date. I was so happy that I mainly laboured at home. The hospital part happened so quickly and for that I am so grateful.

I had the injection to speed up the delivery of the placenta, which came away quickly with no concerns. Once Daisy had come off the breast one midwife took her for baby checks while the other examined me. The reminder of pain returned as she prodded and poked, discovering that I had torn and required stitches. I didn't care at this point, my baby was here, all was well. They said I could use the gas and air while they stitched the tear. This was definitely needed and did the job of taking the pain away a bit too well. I remember having some sort of 'out of body' experience. It was like I was floating over my own body at one point, watching everything they were doing to me from up above. It was very strange. Then at one point while I was sat, legs akimbo in stirrups, I started saying 'knit one, pearl one', thinking of my nan doing her knitting! This obviously caused a laugh. After god knows how long, and after we had made numerous phone calls to family, letting them know they were grandparents, aunties, and uncles. When I was all stitched up, Daisy had been nappied up and dressed, hubby got comfy and sat having cuddles with his daughter, mum helped me have a bath. No one prepared me for the amount of blood loss. Wow, it literally seemed like a blood bath, but I did feel better for it. I got into a fresh nightie, huge pants layered with two thick sanitary towels, and settled down for a much needed rest. The tiredness hit me like a brick wall! It was at this point that my loved ones were told it was time for Daisy and I to go to the postnatal ward, and that hubby and mum would have to go home. I really didn't want them to have to leave. I felt safe right there with them, in that room, where they could watch Daisy while I had a sleep. But of course this was not possible. It was now I wished I could just go back home to my own bed! Everything was packed around me, Daisy was placed in her 'fish tank' crib and off we went. We were put in a ward with three other occupied beds, hubby and mum said their goodbyes and that was it, we were alone for the first time.

I couldn't stop looking at my baby. She was perfect. Full of thick, dark hair. A midwife came round to check on us and suggested I put Daisy down in her crib so I could get some sleep. She did this for me but I could not get to sleep. It was noisy on the ward but I mainly remember not being able to take my eyes off Daisy. Was she ok? Surely I can't just leave her and have a sleep myself. It was this moment that I realised I hadn't prepared myself for this bit, the forth trimester! I had done it all for the pregnancy, labour and birth, but not this. I assumed that because I had a niece and nephews that I was close to, that I knew exactly what I was doing, that this would be the easy part, but I felt unsure right there and then. For me the environment or the midwives didn't help. I wasn't shown where anything was, I wasn't told what to expect, what if I fell asleep and didn't hear her if she needed me! I stayed staring at her, me not sleeping, until breakfast time. There was a hand over of midwives as a new shift started. I was told where to get myself something to eat and that it was ok to leave Daisy in her crib, by my bed! I didn't feel right leaving her, she was so tiny and new. Again, I did as I was told and headed to the 'breakfast room' with some cereal, yoghurts, bread for toasting, butter and spreads. I popped some toast in, made a cuppa and nibbled away. The whole time not feeling comfortable, so I went and got Daisy and put her next to me. What a rebel!

After breakfast I began asking 'when can I go home?'. The doctor and paediatrician had to do their checks and sign us off first. It's fair to say the rest of the day I pestered them at every opportunity. They probably get really fed up with me, but at this point I didn't care what they thought. I wasn't rude, just persistent. The paediatrician arrived first, soon after breakfast. The main thing I remember from that was being made to feel like an awful mother because I hadn't changed Daisy's nappy. She had passed meconium but I hadn't realised. She then watched over me while I changed her for the first time. I felt like I was being judged and tested. I felt really anxious and uncomfortable. I was glad when she had finished her checks and given Daisy the all clear. Hubby arrived back as soon as visiting times allowed. I was so pleased to see him. I got ready to go home and I continued to pester to the point where I remember saying I would discharge myself if I can't go soon, I just want to get home. We left the hospital at approximately 6pm. It seemed like such a long day!

Getting home was the best feeling in the world. I relaxed straight away. I couldn't believe she was here, I was a mummy, I did it! I felt on top of the world. I did get the 'baby blues' but that didn't last long. We of course had sleepless nights but she self-soothed by being a 'thumb sucker', she would fall asleep anywhere! I now realise, after two more babies that this was pure luck, and no two babies are the same. However, I didn't take it for granted, just enjoyed the moments, resting while she slept, especially in the early weeks. I caught up on a few jobs, joined local toddler groups and kept in touch with a few mums from the antenatal sessions we attended. I did, at times, put far too much pressure on myself though. we tend to be guilty of that a lot don't we as women and mums. Never feeling like we are doing enough at times, struggling to keep on top of things, struggling to ask for help. I have come to learn that we must stop doing that. It isn't good for us and it doesn't set the best examples to our own children I don't believe. Afterall, we would want our children to feel that it is ok to ask for help, certainly not a sign of failing, more of a sign of knowing capabilities, looking after themselves, community, support, accepting and offering kindness.

So if you are reading this as a new mum please don't try and do it all on your own. Know that some days you may feel like you haven't got anything done that was on your to-do-list, or even managed to leave the house for the walk that would 'do you good. Know that this is okay. More than okay. Your body has developed and nurtured a new life. It takes time for hormones to balance out. Allow yourself time to get to know your baby, get to know yourself as a parent and accept any changes that unfold along the way. Just like birth, nothing is textbook when it comes to bringing up your child. You evolve as you go. Trust yourself, you are your child's expert, you know more than you think. If you would like support, reach out. Reach out to family, friends, groups, me (other doula's are available!), we've got your back.