The Indigo Process

Finally I have a spare 20 minutes to share the gruesome details of becoming a mummy for the fourth time.

This is the first draft as it takes a few weeks for me for little details to come back.

So the last few weeks dragged! Nervously I over interpreted every potential sign of labour. Never before have I had the necessary bodily skills to send myself into contractions and this time, had tried everything to ensure that for once, I was going to do it naturally. I had earned it surely? For once, I would know how it felt to rush excitedly/nervously to hospital.

So from 35 weeks onwards, every twinge I thought was the real thing. Convinced one night that my waters had broken I ended up at labour ward being monitored to find foolishly that they probably hadn't. Every pain was timed using an IPhone application. I refused to pack my hospital bag convinced that if I was unprepared, ironically, I would need it in a hurry. I popped Raspberry Leaf capsules like they were sweets, ate curries, had regular orgasms, took walks and bounced faithfully on my newly purchased exercise ball.

I had a date at 39 weeks for a stretch and sweep, controversially given to me by the consultant, much to the disgust of the midwife who disagreed with the procedure before term date.

It was our d-day. I firmly believed that on that day I would attend the hospital and the registrar would tell me that I was 4cm dilated and that they would just give me a nudge. I would go home in slow labour ready for a trip back to labour ward in the early hours.

It was hard to control the tears as the consultant told me in the most casual of fashion that I wasn't even the teeny tiniest bit ready to go into labour and that he would be leaving me until 41 weeks for induction. Also just to kick me whilst I was down, that the baby would be a whopper, most likely the same/bigger than my last 10lb 8oz porker.

The only ray of sunshine was the doctor saying I could ask the midwife to check me in a few days for another attempt at a sweep.

I sulked for a few days. The only thing I could think of was my cervix. It became my only topic of conversation.

I started having a show the day of the hospital appointment. It could have been due to the internal examination, or the sex the day before, but I started loosing goo.

Of course it was captured on a tissue and brought into the room for my OH to investigate and interpret with me. Over the next few days, the goo changed colour and amount and for a spilt second, I was so sure that something was happening. Then I googled...

Every time I searched a pregnancy/labour based topic, I saw something I didn't like. Such as a million articles on how you could have a "show" six weeks before the event.

Pah!

Even the regular contractions/really strong Braxton Hicks every evening seemed to vanish just as I thought things were happening.

Hopes were built once again for 40 weeks when I had managed to persuade a midwife to come to my home and sweep me, even though she protested. The experience wasn't a pleasant one. She was more than miffed at being in my home on a Sunday with her fingers prodding my cervix at the request of a consultant. She reminded me again on how I shouldn't be having the procedure done yet, then broke my heart by confirming that no progress had been made and there was no way I would be going into labour within the next week at least.

My mood was black and I hid in my bedroom for the rest of the day, followed by most of the next day too!

I was no longer going to listen to my body. It was fraudulent. It was teasing me.

I didn't get too excited when my goo was bloodstreaked that day ( but still took a sample to show OH) and I ignored the evening dose of contractions. I finally accepted that I would have to wait to be chemically induced in a weeks time and would plan to keep myself constantly distracted.

We went to bed and decided to play Bubble Bobble on the XBox in bed. That stupid dinosaur platform game I used to adore when I was younger. It kept me busy and it was nice doing something with my OH.
I ignored the Braxton Hicks and the feeling of the baby pushing down. Even though I thought I could feel my pelvis separating, I dismissed it as more teasing.

I fell asleep around 1 am

I awoke at 4:30am. I was uncomfortable. My hips hurt and my pelvis felt broken. I had dreamt that I was giving birth to 5 kittens and they were all fighting against my pubic bones to escape (the kitten dream wasn't so obscure as my cat had kittens a few weeks before and our world was turned into chaos by her 5 babies.)

I went to the toilet and felt I needed to poo. Constipation pain followed by pains in my lower back and under my bump. The same pains as I had every night.

I wasn't sure. I couldn't decide if it was time...Or maybe I was just constipated?

I went back to bed and tried to get comfortable, the pain in my groin was getting stronger. Well maybe not stronger, but it certainly wasn't going any where.

4:50pm The OH was woken up. As he blinked at me, trying to come around, I told him I was hurting and possibly in labour, but then again, I wasn't sure. I left out the consitpation theory.

Another 20 minutes of the same and I decided it was time for a bath. I was definately sure they were getting stronger but the cause was still unknown. Warm water would surely make me go to the loo? Or it it was time for baby, then I needed to be clean and bathed anyway.

I was moaning and groaning aloud now as I lay in the bath on my side. OH was in the room too, chain-smoking out of the bathroom window, half-asleep maybe, but very quiet. We couldn't decide what to do next.

It was impossible to hoist myself out of the bath, but OH managed to partially drag me. It was hurting to do anything other than freeze up in silence during a contraction.

I phoned the labour ward and told them that I thought, that maybe, I may possibly be in labour? But I wasn't sure. The woman seemed unamused by my nervousness and advised me to come in anyway. But we had three little problems...

What to do about the other three sleeping kids.

MIL was called to come around and babysit until my father could make it from my home town as OH loaded up with bags. The pains were really getting strong now. I was mildly distracted by chatting to MIL but I couldn't wait much longer. We needed to make the 20 minute journey to the hospital.

Every bump in the road hurt! I was hanging from that rail thing, gripping it really tightly, closing my eyes, huffing and puffing and tensing my body as he drove.

Another problem, no change for the carpark at the hospital. As ridiculous as it seems, we had to go to two petrol stations for cash back and change.

I was counting now... I must have looked autistic, like a Dustin Hoffman/Rainman, counting forwards and backwards to take my mind off the pain. I think I was doing in my head for some time, to hide it from OH, for fear he would think I was crazy. But the pain got too much for me to care. Randomly starting at the number 19 each time, I would count down to zero, then back up again until the pain passed.

The lift was broken at the hospital and the labour ward was wisely on the second floor. So I braved the stairs. Huffing and counting with each step.

We finally made it around 7:30am and buzzed at the ward door. A midwife spoke to OH as I sloped agains the wall counting.
We were lead into a small room and waited until THE midwife arrived (the lovely lady that delivered Indie.) She asked questions that I found difficult to answer so OH became my spokesperson. I couldn't sit in the chair and was kneeling on it instead, slightly twisted to face the wall behind, clinging on to the chair back to stop myself falling, counting.

I shuffled oh so slowly in my socks to the toilet to try and get a water sample for the midwife but it gave me a chance to try and poo again. The pain and pressure on my bowels was intense. It was a no-go situation and I finally accepted that it was the baby and not constipation.

The monitor was switched on and I was hooked up. I hoped to see the graph making massive mountains for each contraction but they didn't. I started to panic that it was super early and that even though the pain was huge, I wasn't really in established labour. The midwife added to this by saying she would examine me and if my waters hadn't gone, I could possibly go home.

MORTIFIED! The pain was making me breathless, I couldn't focus on anything. All I could do when I felt the stabbing wave was close my eyes, try not to tense my body and start to count.

I had always believed I had a fairly high threshold for pain but in my old age, I must be really feeble and weak. I was desperate to ask for pain-relief but in the next few minutes, I could be sent home instead.

She waited until my contraction passed, then looked at my cervix. Good news, she could see pools of water, implying that my waters had broken. I exhaled. HA! I wouldn't be going home now. Then she changed her mind.

It wasn't pools of water, but infact my waterbag bulging?? I was nine centimetres dilated and my water sac was BULGING!

I was so relieved I wasn't going to be sent home, I felt so brave that I had made it to 9 cm, I was so proud that my body was working without intervention.

All I could say was, Am I okay to have gas and air now?

The three of us moved to a labouring room and she fitted a mouthpiece to the gas and air. Bliss.
It all starts flooding back, the level of pain, the taste of the gas and air, the waves of sickness until you get used to it, the instant drunkeness, the noise of the mouthpiece sounding like Darth Vader.

It was taking the edge off and I was relaxing a little.

Midwife quickly started jotting down a birthplan. I said I would like some Pethidine as I had that with the other three. Diamorphine is all they give now? They changed things a few years ago and decided pethidine wasn't strong enough and that women just prefer Diamorphine.

Not I! I didn't want to feel sky high, I didn't want to be too off my face to remember things. Pethidine was just enough. Blah, I decided to stick to gas and air.

A cannula was put in my wrist and it hurt, LOTS. More so than my contractions. Apparantly it is procedure for previous c-sections or blood pressure people. I can't really remember what she said but I was to have one.

Gripping my OH's hand, running from 19-0 out loud, then 0 to 30, that was how long the contractions were now.

I'm a little hazy with the order of things now and will have to check with my OH. Blame the gas and air.

I was examined again. I felt a teeny pop and my water gushed everywhere. As I looked up, I could see the look of horror on Midwifes face. She said it was a lot of water and it had flooded the place. I didn't even notice that I was soaking wet. She told me to lift up whilst she removed some of the sheets beneath me, but the pains were too much for me to get my backside off the bed.

The gas and air was wearing off now, It was definitely not enough for me to get through labour. I wanted the Diamorphine. Midwife left the room to get some.

I got the urge to push. I shouted for OH to press the buzzer and she seemed to appear instantly.
She had the needle in her hand with the precious pain relief in. I moved the G&A mouthpiece for a split second, just enough to tell her that I needed to push.
She rushed past the bottom of my bed, looking between my legs and scrambling for rubber gloves. Telling me not to push yet!

Luckily I could control it. I had three urges when I could have pushed but didn't. It's the strangest of sensations and impossible to describe to another person. Fear was hitting me again now. The G&A was not taking the edge off any more and Midwife was telling me I could push when I was ready.

Well I wasn't ready! I knew the pain that was about to come and I wasn't close to being prepared! I told her so. I told her I needed the Diamorphine and she said no, it was too late. The next urge to push came and I couldn't fight it this time. My body convulsed and my moans turned into the strangest noise.

It's a very out of body experience. I can hear my breathing, emphasised by the mouthpiece. I am aware that I am practically growling like an animal with each contraction but could care less of what anyone else present thinks.

The 4th urge now and I pushed again. This time I got the whiteness.

The whiteness I have never mentioned to another person before. It probably won't make too much sense either. It's when the pain gets too much for you to physically cope with any more. It's happened with each baby at the point of the head being born. It for me, is the point where the pain is that intense, that it is no longer painful. I first haze over and my vision blurs. I think I can only see white, or maybe I am just gazing at the hosiptal ceiling at this point in a drunken world of my own. The pain burns then eases and usually I am getting a shout from a midwife to stop pushing as a baby's head has arrived.

Well, this was second or third push and I had the whiteness. I was still coherent enough to realise that this was far quicker than normal. That I would normally be pushing for about 20/30 minutes before the whiteness.

I listened to the midwife carefully. She was telling me to make small tiny pushes then to pause for a few seconds, then to repeat it again. My teeth were clamped around the mouthpiece and I was gripping OHs hand so tightly. I vaguely remember telling my OH to look as his daughter's head was being born and I'm sure the midwife said she was born with her eyes open.

As the white haze faded I was told that one more push was all that was needed for the rest of her to be born. I tried to protest and say I needed to get my breath back first. The Midwife said, no, come on, one more push...My body agreed with her and I convulsed uncontrollably again and out she slipped.

It's the loveliest feeling. After the pain of the baby's head, the rest of the body seems to just slop out quickly.

She was born at 9:20am about 5 hours after the first mild pains.

She was wiped a little and placed on me. I think I was chatting away at this point but trying to hide my shock of not being prepared for the baby yet. I didn't feel that I deserved her to be born yet. That I had to work harder with the others.

OH commented lots about how quickly I seemed to recover from the birthing mess I was. The G&A drunken effects wearing off instantly.

I felt the midwife tugging at the umbilical cord and pulling out the placenta. Again, that's a lovely feeling. Gungy and sloppy, it almost soothes the grazing pain I was feeling after delivery.

Then the after pains kicked in. AGONY!

The mouthpiece was back in use and I was huffing and puffing away.

She was weighed and dressed and in my OHs arms.

I became suddenly aware that my stripy socks were soaking with amniotic fluid.

She wasn't the most beautiful of babies born. She was blueish (congestion due to fast delivery) and her eyes were so swollen and puffy. She looked like a cold alcoholic. But the love was instant and in my eyes she was perfect.

The most scrumptious tea and toast is usually provided after giving birth. It's like a prize/reward and it is the best tea and toast you will ever taste. Then I was hurried into the bath.

We were wheeled up to the ward for a few hours, where we the three of us got to spend some bonding time alone...