Birth story - Briana and baby Aoife

Background

My first birth did not go to plan. It left me feeling powerful and capable in some ways but also recovering physically and emotionally from a loss of control, a 3b tear, PPH and general anaesthetic. Needless to say, it occupied a lot of my thoughts during my second pregnancy. 

To prepare this time, I read and watched as many positive birth stories as possible, as well as several hypnobirthing books, followed the Positive Birth Company online, wrote a very detailed birth plan and practiced with guided meditations, visualisations and music. 

Early Labour

Early contractions started gently on a Friday night. I dozed between them and, as they had no regularity or intensity, didn’t prepare for labour. My relaxation tracks helped me to sleep and think positively. 

Saturday, I tried to keep busy. In the morning, I packed us all into the car and went to the beach (in a storm), then did the laundry, made a pot of soup and took my wee boy swimming where we played and the water helped me stay comfortable.

Established Labour

At 8 o’clock my son was in bed and I thought it would be a good idea to get an early night. I lay down but the waves of pressure were too intense to sleep through. Instead, I set up a pillow and blanket fort on the yoga ball and listened to my birth playlist, drifting in and out. After a time, I didn’t want to be alone so went and lay with my partner and continued to drift in and out between each song, running back and forth to the toilet. Every so often I would time contractions for 30m or so. 

At 2.15 the Freya app turned green and told me to phone the midwives. I woke my partner and he phoned his sister. I could no longer sit or lay down and paced the flat, packing random things into a canvas shopping bag. I knew the importance of staying relaxed but could feel I was starting to get shaky and tense against each contraction. I tried to imagine myself tossed by strong waves, letting go to the currents and surges as I had playing in the surf as a child.

The on call midwife sleepily phoned me back and we agreed to meet in an hour at the hospital. The 10 minute drive was not enjoyable. I cursed the speed bumps and had to swing out the door to be sick on the Main Street peppered with drinkers staggering home. 

CMU

Saturday night in our rural hospital was quiet and empty. Our midwife waited at the door to let us in and I felt uncharacteristically awkward about needing to take my boyfriend’s arm on the way in. I was happy to see her; we had met twice before. She had been transformative in helping me breastfeed my first born and talked a lot of sense at my last appointment.

My blood pressure was high and I was already “high risk” so she waited to hear what the doctor on shift in our nearest labour ward (2 and a half hours away) wanted me to do but also prepared the birth room and pool. We all knew it would be a struggle to get an ambulance at this time. I asked for the lights to be turned off and a birthing ball while my partner put my playlist on. 

At some point I tried to make it to the toilet but was sick all over myself and the floor. My lovely midwife mopped it up, it was just water and crackers, while my partner went to get me a change of clothes from the car. He had to buzz into A&E to get back in and the nurse on duty was excited at the prospect of a baby being born at the hospital that night. Only around 20 babies a year are born locally. 

While we waited, I bounced and breathed and listened to music, my partner behind me applying counter pressure and massage.

As agreed in my “super active management plan”, in case of another PPH, a cannula was inserted. The nurse was friendly and quick but I couldn’t concentrate on anyone or anything else by the time she left. It was 5 o’clock by this point. My baby would be here in less than 30 minutes, before the second midwife had even had time to arrive.

It started with my voice. I opened up my vocal chords to a moan and growl and it was powerful and transformative.

The midwife appeared. She knew something had changed before I did and though I asked for a shower to get clean she suggested the pool. 

The Birth Room

In an instant she was there. A weight. A pressure. A life filling the world. Opening in two like a seed husk, my body tremored in shock and surprise: she was real. Her father’s hands steadied me and held me to this world. Music played and tethered me to myself.

As soon as my body squatted and submerged in the birth pool I felt the power of life move through me. I brought my hand down and her head was slick and soft and covered in thick hair - a person, a fully developed person in her own right. She bobbed there for several surges - caught between me and her and the rest of the world. As I roared, the midwife placed the bite of the gas and air between my teeth and I used it as an anchor to synchronise breath and body. In minutes she floated through the water - up into my arms - caught in the umbilical chord. The midwife unwrapped it as I hesitantly clutched her. She gave a cry to let us know she was here and well and so very alive and settled into a peaceful contentedness impossible to describe.

Her waters had broken only at the last minute so she was perfectly and unexpectedly clean.

Her daddy took her into his arms as I crawled from the pool onto the hospital bed where, after a quickly managed 3rd stage with a little guided pushing, she rooted and snuffled and, with the strength of a little shark, latched on and didn’t let go.

Home

5 hours later we were home and introducing her to her big brother who declared he loved her and wanted to hold her and carry her and feed her.

I had a first degree tear that didn’t need stitches (it was virtually unnoticeable after). My body still aches. After all, it’s done more than any marathon or endurance test. But I also feel strong and powerful and like I am healing into someone new. My hypnobirthing continued to help me with breathing through uterine contractions and establishing breastfeeding.

After

My daughter was born at the beginning of Covid-19’s spread across the UK. Hospital care was unaffected and of the very highest standard and, whilst post natal health visitor appointments were stripped back to the bare minimum and visitors stayed away, little was different in our first week of new baby bubble. Some of my family made it to visit before the lockdown order but others are still waiting to meet their granddaughter/niece. Unexpectedly, my first born is getting to know his sister even better with no nursery or other distractions. 

Whenever I feel overwhelmed or like I need a hit if oxytocin, the feel of my daughters soft newborn hair brings me back to that euphoria and wonder as she first made her way into the world.