My Story Monday - Sarah

Happy Monday everyone! Dd you have a nice weekend?

Today on My Story Monday we have the fabulous Sarah from Yummy Mummy in Training. Please enjoy!

After 2 sweeps which failed to do anything I ended up going 14 days over so was booked in for an induction on Friday 25th May. I was told to phone the labour ward at 8:30am to get a time to go in, but as they were really busy from the night before they didn't have a time for me to go in. I had to phone them a further 2 times before they finally called and said I could go in at 5pm. So I thought wayhay we are off.

At first they couldn't break my water so I had to have a pessary fitted to soften and open the cervix and had to have that for 24 hours before they would examine me again and try to break my waters again. Once I had that fitted I have to be monitored for 2 hours to make sure the baby was still OK after they had been messing about with me and then I was allowed to go home but I had to be back at 8am the next morning for another hour of monitoring. Whilst I was in hospital the next day I started getting a tightening pain which the midwife said was caused by the pessary and it was a good sign as it meant it was working. Those pains lasted me pretty much all day. Once we got home we went for a long walk and I bounced on my birth ball to try and get things moving but no such luck. At 7:30 that night we went back to hospital this time I wasn't leaving without my baby boy.

The only thing that I was gutted about with having an induction is that my wish of a nice active labour in the birth centre was out of the window now. I had to be hooked up to the monitor for continuous monitoring.

After a further hour on the monitor the midwives came to try and break my water which they managed to do. That is a horrible experience I'm so glad they broke in hospital and not whilst walking around Tesco. The only way to describe it is it feels like you are weeing yourself but you have no control over it and can't stop it. We also discovered Thomas had done a poo which could have been because he was a bit distressed or because he was 2 weeks over.
After they broke my water I was then attached to a drip which started my contractions almost instantly. They were horrible and having to lie in bed made it worse I felt like I needed to walk around like it may take some of the pain away but I couldn't. I soon started on my gas and air which is amazing stuff, it doesn't take the pain away completely but it does help a little and it gives you something else to think about. The only way I can describe it is the feeling you get when your lying in bed drunk after a night out and the room spins and your not quite with it.
I was having really strong regular contractions for about 2 hours and was having about 6 every 10 minutes when things too a turn for the worse. Every time I was contracting Thomas's heart rate was dropping. I can't really remember anything from then on because I was out of it on gas and air but apparently the midwife said to David and my mum that if his heart rate dropped again she would press the red button and the room would fill with people. She didn't get to finish the sentence before she pressed the button and people came running in to the room.

They tried to put a monitor on Thomas's head to monitor him more effectively but his heart rate was still dropping and I was still only 2cm dilated which is what I was when they first broke my water so the decision was mad to perform and emergency Cesarean. All I can remember at this point was somebody thrust a consent form in front of me to sign and then I was rushed to theatre.
As soon as I was in theatre the epidural was fitted and I can remember having freezing water squirted on me to test if it had started to work and it was touch and go whether I would have to be put to sleep or not as it wasn't kicking in straight away but luckily it worked.
David was then allowed in to theatre just in time for Thomas to be delivered. It was a weird sensation I could feel pulling and tugging as they were getting him out but there is no pain at all. Imagine having a tooth out, it was like that. The next thing I knew there was an ear peircing scream. My son had been born I just burst in to tears it was the most beautiful sound in the world hearing your child for the first time.

Thomas was then passed to David and I saw him for the first I fell in love instantly words just cannot describe that feel it was absolutely amazing.
I was then stitched up and taken to recovery to wait for some feeling to come back in my legs and I was finally allowed to hold my son and have skin to skin with him it was the most beautiful moment ever the first cuddle with my beautiful baby boy.

I'd like to say a big thank you to Sarah for sharing her experience with us here today, please go and check her blog (link above).

If you'd like to share your real birthing story, please read the intro post here and check out the other birthing stories on the My Story Monday page.

Clare

My Story Monday - Caroline

Happy Monday!! Today Caroline has kindly offered to share her true birthing story with us. Caroline is a British military wife, living in Germany and this is her experience of giving birth abroad.

Sunday 24th February 2013
The husband and I arrived at the local hospital at 8am for our pre-arranged potential induction appointment.  As he was meant to be in Kenya at this point (on an army exercise) and was pushing his flight back on a daily basis we were very hopeful that, as I was by now 7 days overdue, the midwives and doctors would look kindly on us and start pumping me with the necessary drugs to get things moving.  I understand that in some people's eyes my decision to be induced was controversial but I really wanted my husband to be there for the birth of our first child and knew that if I went much further overdue this would be impossible.  Thankfully we got the green light, had a lovely final scan (where I was told "he is not a small baby" - er thanks for that just as I am about to be put into labour) and after I had removed three fingers worth of my Shellac manicure (sob) off we went to the little room to get the first pills.  It appears that my boy just needed a bit of encouragement to make his appearance as my contractions started very quickly.  At this point they were also pretty much pain free and I came to the conclusion that if they carried on in this way it would all be pretty easy - HAHAHAHAHA!!!  The rest of Sunday passed in a blur of tablets every four hours, regular but easy contractions and being rigged up to the ECG machine.  At 6pm they made me cry by saying that there would be no more tablets until Monday -  at this point I just wanted him out as I was increasingly worried about having to wave my husband off from the hospital whilst still in labour - so we went to our very lovely room (a three bed room we had all to ourselves) and watched the rather limited TV.  Army people will know that BFBS has its limitations particularly when you only have BFBS 1.......  The husband went home about 10.30pm leaving me to Dancing on Ice, 'mineralwasser mit sprudel' and some Happy Cherry Haribo (I don't know what they do to teabags over here to make tea taste so weird but it is to be avoided at all costs)  I then endeavoured to get some sleep but this was made nigh on impossible by the fact that the lady next door had had twins and kept wheeling them up and down the corridor outside my room whilst they screamed blue murder.

Monday 25th February - Tuesday 26th February 2013
At 2am I felt an enormous kick and heard an enormous pop (hadn't expected that!) and my waters broke.  Instantly the 'easy' contractions ceased and were replaced with proper ones.  I pressed my call button and the midwives came instantly to check me over before returning with the ECG machine.  At 6am they started me on the induction drugs again and I decided it was time to wake the husband up and get him back to the hospital.  Once he arrived he rigged me up to the TENs machine (a pleasant distraction which ultimately became hugely irritating) and we got into the routine of contractions, grabbing some fresh air and being hooked up to the ECG machine.  The midwives were insistent on me lying down when on the ECG but after I vomited all over the floor (we were on our own in the room and couldn't find a bowl anywhere) they let me stand up which was much easier.  At about 5pm I asked if I could have a bath and then spent a blissful hour emerged in very hot water being looked after by a lovely student midwife.  Unfortunately this came to an end when my baby's heart-rate shot up and I was made to get out.  Interestingly, his heart rate stayed high until I had been for a wee - guess he was squashed - but they wouldn't let me back in the bath again.....  Instead they gave me a water IV and said it would help with the pain - it doesn't.
At about 10pm I decided I had had enough and asked for some pain relief.  It is not common for German hospitals to offer gas and air (some have it just for the British Army patients but my local hospital doesn't) and so this was not an option.  They offered an epidural and at 32 hours in with very little sleep I willingly accepted.  The anaesthetist came almost immediately and within minutes I was entering a blissed out state of no pain and managing to doze a little bit (as did my husband who was brought his own bed so that he could also get his head down)  Two hours later they gave me a top up (bliss!) but after this it all started to go a bit downhill.....  At 2am I informed them that I could feel my contractions again. "That is right Mrs_____, it is soon time for you to push.  Your body knows what to do" Unfortunately, having lost the momentum of labour thanks to the epidural my body didn't really know what to do and I couldn't really do what I was meant to be doing.  I can remember them making me kneel on the bed with my arms on the raised head end and I can remember getting infuriated that they kept tring to cover my bottom with a sheet (ummmm I think I have already lost all dignity so I wouldn't bother now!)  When I was unable to push properly the senior midwife put her hand inside me and told me to bear down on it.  That was almost more painful than the contractions.  She then told me that if the baby didn't come in the next two hours they would need to intervene.  At this point I was more than happy for them to wheel me off to theatre there and then as I couldn't possibly see how I was going to give birth naturally.  They then gave me some homeopathic tablets and told me they would help - they don't.  They simply tasted of weird mints - if I wanted some fake polo mints I would bring some.  The next hour passed in a blur before my legs were shoved in stirrups and a doctor arrived with the ventouse equipment.  At 0602 my little boy was sucked out of me and put on my chest under a mountain of duvets and blankets "he might be an English baby but he has been born in a German hospital.  Cover him up!!"  I was then kept in the stirrups whilst a doctor who spoke no English (the midwife translated so everything was said twice which made it feel like everything took FOREVER) stitched me up.  The husband was asked to bring the baby over to be checked and was told "do not turn around!" so as to not be exposed to my lady parts in all their third degree tear glory.  The stitching took what seemed like forever but eventually I was allowed to put my legs down (bliss!) and we got moved back to our room on the ward.  I subsequently stayed in hospital for 48 hours (it is normal to stay in for up to a week in Germany so the nurses thought I was insane for going home so early) during which we got told off for any number of things (him not wearing a hat, him wearing a hat, not using the fishtank to wheel him around etc etc etc etc) and we had one night at home as a new little family before my husband flew out to Kenya for the next six weeks.  Thanks to amazing family and friends the time flew by and he was soon back to get to know his little boy.

Having never given birth before I can't compare Germany to anywhere else but I thought it would be interesting to put a list of pros and cons to giving birth here so that if I do ever have a baby in the UK I can compare.

Pros:

• The hospital feels a bit like a hotel!
• High staffing ratio meant I was never without a student midwife and had excellent access to fully qualified midwives - on the Sunday we were the only people on the delivery ward initially!
• Time in hospital to make sure you feel confident, the baby is feeding (and help with breastfeeding if that is the route you take)
• Liaison officers make sure that (in most cases) things do not get lost in translation
• Very pro natural birth and breast feeding
• Loads of scans throughout pregnancy and when you are induced/go into labour
• Single rooms or shared with only one other person
• AMAZING cakes with lunch

Cons:

• Cultural differences meant we got told off constantly for our baby not wearing enough clothes despite the hospital being absolutely boiling
• Taking away my Epidural - my British midwife couldn't understand why this had been done and nor could my Dad (who is a GP) - which meant I lost momentum.  If they had made it clear that this would be done I might have persevered without it.
• No gas and air.
• There is only so much bread, meat and cheese for breakfast and dinner you can eat
• BFBS tv is not that great so next time  will load up the iPad.

Many thanks to Caroline for sharing with us today, she blogs over at Adventures of a Military Wife Abroad and you can follow her on Twitter here!

If you'd like to share your story, please take a look at the intro post here.

Clare

Please note that Caroline's birthing story was taken directly from her blog with her permission.

My Story Monday - Kat

For today's My Story Monday, I'm sharing my friend Kat's birthing stories of her two children. Please enjoy, they are an incredibly inspiring read.

Patrick Stephen.

I'd like to say this before I begin. My son's birth was a long haul experience. There was a lot of intervention, and the end birth was nothing like I had hoped or planned. However, I am happy with all of it. I don't look back and view it as a horrible experience. As a long one, sure, but it was no horror show by any stretch of the imagination, or I wouldn't have gotten pregnant again. I like to think of it as... experiencing as much as possible in one birth ;)

Patrick was due on the 12th of April 2009. That day came and went.

I was already under the care of the Obstetrics team at GWH Swindon because I am epileptic, and technically high risk in pregnancy, even though it never reared its head. I would have been moved to their care anyway because I was overdue. I had my appointment on Wednesday the 15th and 3:30. I was three days overdue. I consented to stretch and sweep, which contrary to everything I heard about it - 'it will hurt' 'this will make you sweat', I didn't feel a thing. Perhaps my obstetrician really was that good. I'd like to think it was a load of tripe and it just doesn't hurt. As expected I immediately started to have cramping and tightening. But that was good. I went home, got on with my day, talked to my husband when he got in from work, and set him to oversee my dinner while I was in the bath around 7:45. I loved my tub when I pregnant, but by that stage I did need his help getting out. I felt something odd in the water. Like a rush of fluid, but it really didn't dawn on me what it was. Until I was out of the bath, pottering in my bathrobe, and with every tightening, there was a gush of fluid.

Oh, yeah, that would be my waters then. Finally! We'd had a few visits up to L&D thinking I was in labour when I wasn't. But my waters had gone. I was going to have my baby! Tightenings had become early labour contractions, and I felt every one of them in the car. We lived half an hour from the hospital, 40 minutes in high traffic and we were glad of clear ish roads. Get to L&D and get hooked up to monitors, the contractions are very obvious, but when examined it becomes clear we have a long, long way to go. Its my hind waters that have gone, not the main membrane, and it can, and did reseal itself. My cervix was doing nothing. But there was now an infection risk. That, combined with my risk factor, and my distance from the hospital had them admitting me to antenatal to get some rest, and hubby was sent home.

Thursday came after little rest, I was four days overdue, and contractions had stopped. But I was now on the clock because of my waters. I would need antibiotics during the birth, and the longer you go before the baby is born, the higher the risk of infection. It was a long day of waiting for an induction, and very little information because every midwife was rushed off her feet. Unfortunately this is the case everywhere, that midwives are badly stretched. I spent the day walking, encouraging my body, getting those very early labour contractions going for a few hours, but they fizzled to nothing. By evening someone finally told us that there was no room today, I had to wait till morning. I was tired, emotional, hormonal but a fantastic midwife made time to sit with me for an hour as I cried, got it all out of my system, talked me through what on my birth plan was still realistic, and what to expect. She was a star. So off hubby goes and I get another night on my own in the hospital.

Friday, and five days overdue, I was awake anyway at 5 am now on my own in my four bed bay when a midwife comes to tell me they are getting ready to start my induction. I phone the husband and tell him to come at 8 am, when they will, if he smiles really nicely, allow him on the ward. We are having this baby now. Once induction starts, by hook or by crook, it will end with a baby. They used Prostin gel at 6 am and I am told to expect another dose around 1pm, and it will likely take two doses. It doesn't. My body and I want this baby out and early labour starts and sticks this time. We walk a lot, I did laps of the stairs and by lunch time when my scheduled monitoring happens I am contracting too much for a second dose of gel. I am also feeling the need for more pain relief than just cocodamol. My cervix was finally opening to 2cm and a midwife tried to break my waters then, but I found it too painful. I went for a bath. Labouring in the tub was lovely, relaxing, and peaceful. I loved it. And when I got out, a midwife was waiting to take me to L&D, this time to stay.

At 3pm I was 3cm and asking for pain relief, so I was given gas and air. I loved the stuff. I was happily high. Labour was slow. When gas and air ceased to be enough, I asked for pethadine. A decision that in hindsight I wouldn't make twice, but not because of anything bad. It gave me much needed rest and was exactly what I needed at the time. But hubby didn't fare so well watching me dosed up on it. When it wore off I really didn't want a second dose and I wanted an epidural. Coincidentally my blood pressure was being a bit mental so they wanted me to have one too, so all were happy. Hubby especially. It was very well done, I had feeling and movement in my legs and no pain. It was now about 9pm.

11pm, stuck at 5 cm and its becoming clear my son has decided to align himself back to back with me and will not turn the other way, giving me a harder job to do. That is obvious when two hours later I have not progressed any further. And my son's heart rate is dipping with my contractions. They went through the process of getting a blood sample from the top of his head, but his oxygen levels were okay, so the doctor laid it out for me. We had done everything possible to have this baby naturally. My body was tired, and although my son was okay now, he needed to be born in the next few hours. I was given two hours to progress naturally, then he would start pressing for a c-section. Those two hours were what I needed. I needed them to process that I could not have this baby naturally. That he had misaligned himself and wedged tight, and no longer fit through my pelvis. I needed them to accept that I had done everything possible to have my baby by myself. But it was time to accept help, for the good of myself and my son.

My two hours were up at 3am. I was checked, and there was no change. I asked for the consent forms and signed with a happy heart. I knew it was the right thing to do. For my son, and for me. I was now six days overdue. I had been trying to have my baby for three days. It was time to finally have him. My husband had just enough time to change into scrubs before I was wheeled to theatre and surgery began. At 3:30am on the 18th April 2009, my son was delivered. This was the ONLY moment I was scared in the process. Because he was silent. He was tired just as I was, but he was breathing solo from a minute after birth. It only took him another minute and a half and some encouragement from the paediatrician to cry. The longest minutes of my life. He was 8lbs 1oz, and healthy as a horse, wrapped up and handed to my husband who propped him by y head to meet him.

I cried. I wouldn't get to hold him for another hour, because I was bleeding badly. But never once was there a stress or a panic. There was a lot of me happily chatting and nagging at them that I wanted to go hold my son, but an hour after he was born, they had patched me up, and he was placed naked, into my arms and against my skin. And I fell utterly in love with him as he looked up at me.

No, an emergency c-section was not ideal, not in the slightest. But it was how he was born. And every step of the way I was looked after by fantastic staff and midwives. I was never afraid, I was never stressed. I was helped to bring my baby into the world by the best people I could possibly have had.




Katy Niamh

My daughter's birth was by far the simpler of the two. Her pregnancy was a typical pregnancy really, until 32 weeks. When my absolutely wonderful blood pressure started to climb. And climb, and climb over the next few weeks. By the time I was due to see the consultant team at 36 weeks I knew full well what was happening. I had planned, and hoped for a normal delivery despite my previous section. I looked after myself, did everything I could to make it happen. I researched, I learned, and made sure I knew what to expect and what I wanted. But over the course of those four weeks it was plain. My daughter was making me ill. I hadn't yet started to have protein in their routine urine tests. But it was practically an inevitability. Before my appointment, I discussed with my husband what was going to happen. What I knew that would say. I asked for his opinion, and we made a decision.

I went to my appointment, and saw the consultant, his midwife and her student. As she took my blood pressure I was unsurprised as she took the reading. Or by the heavy blood pressure medication I was prescribed. Or that the consultant said he didn't want me on them for long with my daughter on the inside, because they could cause her harm with longer term exposure. I could see them gearing up for a fight, to talk down a hysterical mother. He addressed the elephant in the room and recommended a scheduled section to make sure my daughter stayed healthy. I calmly smiled and asked them to get out their diary, shocking them all. There was no point in fighting it. I was getting sicker day by day and I could feel it. Getting her into the world safely was priority. Yes, it was not the birth I wanted. But it was right. Her due date was the 19th of October. She would be born on the 11th.

What followed was a trip to the day assessment unit every three days to have a trace on baby and a blood pressure series, as well as a test for protein in my urine. That part was not fun, but necessary. I could not wait for the 11th. Fitting those visits in around my son being in preschool and such was a pain in the rear. I had to go in the evening more than once so that my husband could be there for our son. On the 9th we had a false alarm of labour. It had been bad. My parents who were supposed to be coming on the 10th, came early, just in case. But the evening of the tenth saw me taking my pre-op meds and retiring to bed, now nil by mouth. The 11th came, I took the last meds, took my case, said goodbye to my son, leaving him with my parents, and went to bring his sister into the world.

We arrived a little before 8am. I was supposed to be first on the surgery list, but two emergencies had come in before me, such is life. I didn't enjoy spending two hours waiting on hard chairs with little information, but it could not be helped. Staff were stretched. but by half ten I had a room, I had a bed, and I had been told what was happening. Working it out I figured I would be in surgery between two or three pm. I relaxed, read on the ipad, and was generally quite happy apart from a growling stomach. But minor worries. 2pm came around and an anaesthatist with the paperwork arrived. We were moved rooms, I got into my theatre gowns (one front, one back) and had my surgical stockings fitted. Hubby changed into scrubs. Three pm came and we walked into theatre.

Hubby was able to be there and help me as the spinal anaesthetic was put into place. The only uncomfortable part of the process. But that was done, I was soon laid out, and things got underway. One of the anaesthatists was telling me what was going on, at my request. Everything was calm, everything was relaxed, and quite serene really.

"That sound is your waters. And here's the head."

An instant later and there was a hearty wail in the room. They had yet to get her all the way free of me and she was yelling in protest of being ousted from her comfy home. After my son, that was wonderful.

"She's a long one!"

She wailed and wailed as she was cleaned up and handed to my husband, and I beamed with pride as I watched him cradle our daughter. Everyone cooed while she pouted and hunted for her first meal as her father held her. We joked, we had bets on her weight. It was the male anaesthatist who came closest. He guessed 7lbs 2ozs. She was born 6lbs 15.5 ozs, and perfect. With an attitude and personality. I was very quickly put back together, and the surgeon told me that if I want another baby, I should go ahead, everything was healthy. I got to hold her very quickly and she remained skin to skin with me for her first very long and hungry feed (and much needed food for mummy too), and long after, bonding for hours. It was a wonderful, calm, serene experience that I treasure, along with my daughter. Things went so well, I was home less than 48 hours after surgery.

Such beautiful little ones!!

I'd like to thank Kat for sharing her stories with me and you all, if you would like to follow Kat on Twitter, you can find her here!

If you would like to share your story, please read the intro post here.

Clare