Birth story - Rachael and baby Theo

*Trigger warning* - Group B Strep, pushy doctor, false start at 37 weeks, 2nd degree tear.

Previous birth:

In September 2019 I gave birth to a gorgeous baby boy named Dylan. We were living in Dubai at the time and I took an in person hypnobirthing class to prepare. I was very lucky as I had a great pregnancy and an unmedicated natural birth in hospital (home births are not allowed in Dubai and sadly the pool in the hospital was in use when I needed it). With Dylan’s birth, my waters broke first and he arrived 10 hours later. I wanted to experience hypnobirthing again so took the PBC course as a kind of refresher.

We are now living in Portugal where water births are not allowed in hospitals, so I had to accept that from the beginning. Instead I aimed for an unmedicated birth on dry land at the hospital. If the hospital had been closer, I would have tried for a home birth, but it was at least a 40 minute drive and I felt like this was too far and would have made me anxious.

Pregnancy:

I had always expected Theo to be early as Dylan was born at 38+3 (with labour starting at 4pm on 38+2). I wrongly assumed that we would have a 37 weeker, which made the last few weeks of my pregnancy really drag. The pregnancy as a whole had been rather uncomfortable compared to my first. I was not able to run after about 16 weeks, was super tired and had anaemia. I missed being mobile and being able to play with Dylan, and had a burning pain under my ribs for most of it. I’m also 39 and definitely felt a lot ‘older’ this time around! However, this was not an issue for my doctor.

At 37 weeks I started having what I assumed were surges and went to hospital. A CTG showed I was indeed having surges and they talked about admitting me. I got rather excited! However, a (rather uncomfortable) VE showed that my cervix was still closed, so I ended up going home. I had also started throwing up a couple of times, which had not happened at all in my two pregnancies, so I took this as a sign that something would happen! Sadly, I was wrong.

I was relieved that my doctor did not pressurise me with talk of induction. My last appointment with her was at 39+4 and she said that she would examine me if I wished, to which I declined. She scheduled my next appointment for 40+4 and did say we would have to discuss induction at that appointment if bubs hadn’t been born by then, which I understood. Overall, she was very respectful of my wishes to go into spontaneous labour again. I consumed 6 dates a day from 37 weeks and drank raspberry leaf tea from 32 weeks, just as I had done with my previous pregnancy.

Labour:

My due date came and I messaged a friend that night at 10pm, saying there were still no signs of anything happening. Little did I know that 6 hours later, at 4am, I would wake up to my waters breaking in bed!

I was in the middle of a dream when I felt a very gentle, warm flow of water. I had been up at 2am to use the toilet so was fairly certain that it was not wee! I looked at the time immediately as I knew that when your waters break first, you’re under a 24 hours time limit. I woke my husband saying “I think my waters have broken” and strangely enough he was up right away and pretty lucid. I got up to go and check what was going on and more water came out as I made my way to the bathroom. At this point I was certain it was the start of labour as I had absolutely no control of this water! It was clear, so I knew that for now we were good. I decided it was best to use this ‘quiet time’ to get our stuff together, before Dylan woke up, so that we could go to the hospital fairly early on. Usually I would want to stay at home as long as possible, but the hospital was an hour’s drive away and we also had to have Covid tests and wait for the results before we would be admitted.

My husband took the dogs for a walk and I had a moment of not really knowing what to do. I stood in the bedroom alone for a moment, shaking with excitement and nerves. It was happening again! Giving birth a second time is strange as you know what to expect, but you also know what you’re capable of. On the other hand, you also know that birth can go so many different ways…

I readied myself whilst listening to the positive affirmations on the Freya app and started collecting the last few remaining things together, before hopping in the shower. I messaged my friends who were going to be looking after Dylan, knowing that they wouldn’t be up yet, but wanting them to read my message and know that it was happening after much chat about when things would all kick off!

My husband made me a bagel with cream cheese as I knew it would be important to eat, and I also stayed hydrated. We got as much stuff in the car as possible, I messaged my parents and sister to let them know, and I also rang the maternity line at the hospital to tell them that we would be coming in. I WhatsApped my doctor as she said she would try to be there for the birth.

At 6am, we decided to wake up Dylan. We had now arranged to take him to my friend’s house between 7am and 7:30, and I wanted him to have as ‘normal’ a morning as possible with us before he went. I felt so emotional waking him up, knowing that his little life was about to change forever. I’m sure he could sense that something was going on as he was more affectionate than normal. I tried bouncing on my ball and he laughed at me as I was already wearing my Tena lady nappy/knickers as even big pads couldn’t keep up with the water that was frequently streaming out of me!

We had a quick breakfast and at around 7:10 my husband took Dylan to our friends. I felt sad waving Dylan off but he seemed very happy and I knew he was in good hands. My friend soon messaged me to let me know that Dylan was doing great and enjoying their cat (he loves cats) so I really felt at ease from then on.

Once my husband was back, we had a final check for everything, made sure we left the key with the neighbours (who were going to kindly walk our dogs for us) and set off for the hospital at about 7:50. The sun had just risen and it looked set to be a beautiful day!

The drive to the hospital was pretty uneventful. I was feeling some sensations but nothing regular and certainly not uncomfortable. At worst, I felt mild period-type cramps but most of the time I felt completely normal (other than the water). In fact, I was a bit worried that things were moving too slowly! I remained trustful of my body as I had always anticipated that nothing would really happen until I knew Dylan was ok and that we had got to the hospital. It was as if my body had set off the process but was not yet feeling ‘relaxed’ enough to let go just yet.

We got to the hospital at about 8:40 and made our way up to the obs and gynae ward. I selected ‘urgencia’ as I didn’t have an appointment, and had to explain to the lady at the counter what was happening. In the end we waited AN HOUR to see the on-call doctor (I got a little feisty with reception and the nurses as I couldn’t believe an urgencia appointment would take so long! Bearing in mind, we still had a Covid test to do and results to wait for, and it was already 5 hours since my waters broke and things were at the moment not happening at all as I was so stressed). I did my best to walk up and down the corridor to keep my body moving.

Eventually the doctor showed up, and well….let’s just say his bedside manner was awful. He was pretty rude and said he would examine me. I questioned this as I knew instinctively that nothing of note had happened yet. However, he started talking about Covid and so I was coerced into an exam…surprise surprise, I was only 1cm dilated. We waited for what seemed like ages in his office whilst he faffed about on the phone. Thankfully my doctor called him at this point and she also WhatsApped me, so I knew that she would likely arrive at some point.

We then waited in reception for a while whilst they booked my husband’s Covid test (he had to have his downstairs whilst I would have mine in Labour & Delivery). I managed to squirt myself in the eye with hand sanitiser after it pretty much exploded when I was using it!

Two nurses then came and told us they would take me to L&D to have my Covid test and begin the admissions process. I said goodbye to my husband as he went downstairs to have his.

In L&D I was in a little side room when the nurse came to do my PCR. She had a student with her who I would see a couple of times that day. Both were super nice but my goodness the PCR hurt, and it was in both nostrils! The test was taken at about 10am and I was told it would be a one hour wait for the result. I put on my hypnobirthing tracks and tried my best to relax, although of course I was not able to get up and walk around the ward, so I was stuck in the chair! I was worried about the Covid test result as I had developed a cough in the last couple of days…

I then met the on call doctor who was pretty jovial. He asked me a couple of questions about my overall birth plan and also hooked me up to the CTG. I was feeling tightenings now but still nothing major, so I just used them as a chance to practise my breathing whilst listening to birth affirmations and hypnobirthing tracks. The doctor kept popping back in and did mention the fact that he could just put in the cannula in my spine for the epidural ‘in case I decided I wanted one’. He seemed concerned that I would change my mind and that when people change their mind at 5 or 6cm, the epidural can be ‘very dangerous’ to put in. He said it allowed women ‘to give birth with a smile on their face’ but I was adamant that I didn’t want that. He pushed me a fair bit but I managed to brush him off by saying that I’d think about it and let him know in an hour or so. It was hard as I was on my own and I felt he was really trying to force me into it, and once you start thinking about a potential ‘just in case’ it’s a slippery slope. I’m so pleased that I continued to refuse!

An hour and more passed and still no sign of the Covid test result. We completed all the admin ready for when the result came through, and I was left to do nothing apart from listen to my tracks and practise my breathing. The doctor came back and told me that my Covid test was positive (!!!!!) before saying he was joking and that it was negative. That really stunned me and made me panic so much. It was time for me to go to my room, so we took my stuff and crossed the corridor into a labour room with a bed and bathroom, chair, ball and cupboards. I got my stuff set up as much as possible but it was quite bright even with the blinds down, so the tea lights and LED candles were kind of pointless. I did hook up my speaker, had an energy bar and drank more water whilst I waited for my husband to arrive. He finally got his Covid test result (negative - yay!) and came up to the room. Almost immediately, he had to leave again to pay (I had opted for a private hospital and although we have insurance, we had not had our policy long enough to fully cover the birth itself).

Finally, at about 12:50pm, almost 9 hours after my waters had broken and 4 hours since arriving at the hospital, my husband came back to the room just as I was getting a cannula put in for my antibiotics (Group b Strep +). By now I was feeling my surges a lot more, and the doctor had wired me back up to the CTG. I was bouncing on the ball and trying to be in UFO position, but the doctor was so concerned that it wasn’t allowing the CTG to work properly that it became really annoying. I could still talk through my surges but I was definitely having to focus more on my breathing now. I was relieved that all the admin stuff was finally over and done with, and I was ready for my body to do its thing to bring my baby to me.

After all the stress of getting to the hospital and all the admin/bureaucracy was sorted, things happened very quickly indeed, and my memory of what happened and what time it happened is a little blurry. My OB turned up shortly after the cannula was put in, and it was such a relief to see her. I really appreciated her coming in on her day off. What’s more, she advocated for me on a couple of occasions when the male doctor kept trying to push me to have the epidural cannula inserted ‘just in case’.

We chatted for a while, and whilst my surges were getting stronger, I was still able to breathe through them and hold a conversation. I was asked if I wanted to be examined, to which I refused as I was keen to keep examinations to a minimum, and I also didn’t think I would have progressed much since my exam that morning. There was a bit of chat about needing to ‘speed things up’ if things didn’t happen by 4pm (12 hours after my waters had broken), which I didn’t really want to hear…I remember thinking that I had 3 hours to get things going naturally, and I trusted that my body would allow that to happen if I was just left to get on with it.

Thankfully, my doctor suggested taking off the monitor (hooray!) so that I could jump in the shower in my room, to get things going. They told us to call them when we needed them, and left us to it. I immediately jumped in the shower and directed the water at my lower back, as I was getting quite a bit of pressure there. Previously, the baby had been back to back and I suspect he was still back to back at this point as I don’t remember having such back ache with Dylan.

Jumping in the shower was an absolute game changer. It was soothing for about a minute, and then all of a sudden things really ramped up. My surges strengthened in intensity to the point where I could not speak through them, and I was desperate to get out of the shower and back into the main room on to my ball. The only problem was, every time I tried to get to the door of the bathroom, another surge hit and I needed to stop and lean on the sink whilst it passed, focusing on my up breathing. After about three or four attempts to leave the bathroom, with my husband’s help I finally got out. I asked him to call the doctors back, feeling a little silly as they had not long left us!

This time, I agreed to an examination as I was pretty certain that things had progressed very swiftly. We managed to get an exam in between surges and I was delighted to find that I was 6cm. Once again the male doctor brought up the idea of an epidural which I refused, as did my husband. Even my doctor told him to stop asking if I wanted one, saying that I would ask if I needed one and that there was no need to keep pressing the subject. As I was having another surge, she said “She is strong, she runs marathons” and gave me a look which I knew meant she believed in me. I gave her a thumbs up as the surge washed over me. By this point, I had absolute faith that I could do this, as I remembered being 6cm having Dylan and how quickly things happened then. I had to laugh when I was offered paracetamol though!

The doctor asked me if I felt like I wanted to push. I did not, but I could feel that there was a definite increase in pressure, so I knew that the baby was making their way down. Again, the doctors left and told us to call them back when I felt the time had come to push.

By this point my surges were strong and very close together. I knew from my previous labour that my surges don’t follow a specific pattern, and that I don’t get any rest between them at this stage. Instead, they’re fast and furious and all I could do was to moan my way through them as my husband did counter-pressure on my back. I was on all fours but had started to get uncomfortable in any position. The amount of pressure was increasing very quickly and in no time at all, I began to feel the need to push.

It was also at this point when I felt a familiar sense of panic, which I guessed must mean I was pretty close to transition. I felt scared that things were happening so quickly, and I was also worried about feeling the need to push, but not wanting to push in case my body wasn’t yet ready. It almost felt like things were happening too quickly, and I frantically asked my husband to push the buzzer again and get the doctors back. I remember worrying that I was going to look really silly as they had only just left, but I couldn’t ignore what my body was telling me to do!

The doctors came back and I explained to them that I was feeling the need to push. They asked me if I wanted to go to the delivery room or to stay where I was. To be honest, I wasn’t sure what I wanted or needed, but I went with my gut and asked to go to the delivery room. It was a short walk down the corridor and when we got there my husband was put into scrubs.

The urge to push was now so overwhelming that I had no choice but to go with my body. I told my husband that I no longer wanted counter pressure (it hurt too much) but light strokes on my back instead. I remember standing and pushing, my hands on the chair/bed, looking down and seeing my husband’s feet as he stood behind me. At that moment, I was aware that the level of activity in the room had stepped up. I could hear hands being washed, cupboards being opened, towels being got, etc. I’m not sure how many people were in the room, but I knew there and then that I was going to meet our baby very soon indeed. There was a sense of people readying themselves and a real buzz of activity, and I then knew that I was right to trust my body. This labour was fast (now that we had sorted out all the other stuff) and my body knew exactly what to do.

Somehow, I managed to relax enough for one final examination. I was now 9cm, not even half an hour after I had last been examined at 6cm! I knew as soon as the doctor looked, from her reaction, that she could most likely see the head. It was most definitely time to get the last bit of birth over with so that we could meet our new baby. I felt excited and also pleased that with any luck, it would soon be over.

Things were a little confusing in the delivery room. I was faced with a weird chair/bed like contraption and was asked which position I would like to give birth in. Despite my previous thoughts of giving birth standing up or squatting, I just couldn’t seem to get comfortable in any position. At one point I apparently said “I just want it out!”. The male doctor was still trying to monitor me and in the end I had to tell him to take the bloody thing away! All my attempts to ‘breathe the baby out’ had fallen by the wayside, just as they had with Dylan, and I had no choice but to push. It was then suggested that I get onto the chair/bed in a sitting/half lying position as my ‘all fours over the bed hanging over a bar thing’ was not working. I reluctantly agreed as at this point I just wanted to be told what to do, and I was ready to have everything over and done with so that I could see my baby. I was relieved that I was not flat on my back at least.

I began pushing more frantically and I remember my husband encouraging me, saying that he could see the head! He was getting quite emotional at this point which really spurred me on. There was a mirror opposite me and at times I could see what was going on down there, which was partly motivating but also somewhat off putting. I reached down to feel the head at one point and knew that we were very close.

As with my previous birth, I found pushing the head out challenging. It’s a huge mental block for me, as I knew that it would not be pleasant, so much so that I was reluctant to do it, but at the same time, you know that the baby is not coming out any other way. I always find pushing the head out physically demanding too. It’s hard work (for me) and often I ran out of ‘surge’ and had to wait a little while before going again. Even though I had not been pushing for long at all, I could tell that the doctors were getting a little antsy, so I had to summon up all of my mental and physical strength to deliver my baby’s head. The ring of fire was very intense as the baby crowned, but I told myself that once the head was out, we were pretty much done.

The head emerged, and just as my doctor was asking my husband if he wanted to catch the baby, an immense surge took us all by surprise and the rest of him shot out incredibly quickly. I remember my doctor reacting, catching him and putting him on my chest.

The first thing my baby did was look at me, and I remember staring directly into his dark blue/grey eyes as we met each other earthside for the first time. He did not cry immediately, but looked somewhat confused by the experience yet incredibly alert. I remember saying ‘my baby!’ as I held him close and looked at his beautiful face. We connected immediately. I then realised that someone had brought my speaker to the room with us, and my gorgeous baby had been born to ‘Into My Arms’ by Nick Cave. From me putting my music on to my son being born, only 9 songs had played from my playlist, which shows how quickly things had happened in the end.

I think that there must have been students in the room as I had previously spotted a couple of feet behind a curtain, and when the baby was born I heard gasps of delight. I thought that I would have been annoyed by people watching, but actually they were very discreet and the fact that they were overjoyed at seeing my baby being born meant a lot to me.

We then found out the sex - another boy, a brother for Dylan! - and enjoyed lots of skin to skin. The cord turned white and my husband cut it before the placenta was delivered very easily. This time I took a good look at it and marvelled at what an amazing organ it is/was. We made sure to get a photo too. I felt nothing but gratitude at how it had sustained the life inside of me for 9 months.

I was then stitched up (second degree tear again, which I fully expected and was relieved that it wasn't worse). This was one of the worst bits as since I hadn’t had any pain relief at all, I felt every stitch! We named our beautiful boy Theo (we weren’t sure up until this point!) and enjoyed lots of cuddles/took photos whilst the stitches were being done.

My doctor said that she had had two children and had had an epidural with both, and was really impressed that I had given birth without any pain relief at all. I had the weirdest sense of time re-starting as I looked at our new baby boy, almost like in a movie.

Eventually, he was weighed and given the vitamin K shot, but we kept all his vernix on and dressed him only in a nappy to enjoy lots of skin to skin. I moved across from the weird chair/bed that I had given birth on to a normal bed (this was hard in itself) and held Theo on my chest as we went up to the maternity ward. This was really strange as we went in the lift and corridor where there were just people milling about normally, and here I was after my life had changed forever for the second time.

My husband had to go and collect our things from our original room, and I was given a suite on the maternity ward. The doctor told me that I deserved it after what I had done.

I really am thankful to the Positive Birth Company for producing such an excellent course. My main aim was a drug and intervention free birth, which I got, and I felt so informed throughout the whole process. It also gave me the strength to stand up for what I wanted when faced with a rather pushy doctor. The affirmations and hypnobirthing tracks were perfect and I used the surge timer up until I was 6cm. Most of all, PBC gave me the mental strength, after a very challenging 2 years, to know that I was capable of another drug free birth and to trust my body and my self. This is something I can carry forward forever now.