Birth story - Zoe and baby Henry

*Trigger warnings* - hyperemesis gravidarum, pregnancy-induced SVT, external cephalic version/ECV, breech, preterm labour, use of the words ‘painful’ and ‘pain’

I’ve been meaning to share our story on here for so long! Now our baby is 8 months old, I feel like it’s time... In the weeks leading up to our birth, I found the stories on here about ECV, breech babies and elective Caesarean sections so helpful and reassuring - so I knew I wanted to add my own experience here in the hope it might help others! Our birth ended up being far more positive than we ever imagined it would be, despite not having the midwife-led birth centre delivery we had dreamed of.

I had quite a tough pregnancy generally, starting with hyperemesis gravidarum which was at its worst from around 6/7 weeks to about 16 weeks (resulting in me being signed off work and prescribed anti-sickness meds). This was followed by pregnancy-induced SVT (my heart randomly and suddenly going at a super fast rate) at around 28/40, which required medication and lots of growth scans to check baby was OK. I then had two preterm labour scares at 33/40 and 34/40, resulting in a few nights stay in hospital for observation and monitoring, and experienced contractions intermittently from this point until delivery thanks to an “irritable uterus” (a phrase I came to hate!) At times I felt it extremely difficult to cope with the demands of pregnancy, but the techniques I came to learn about through hypnobirthing were incredibly helpful for me. For example, I was given two steroid injections into my bottom during one of my admissions to help baby’s lungs if he was born early - I was told it would quite painful, so I used up-breathing while they did it. The midwife commented afterwards that I was very calm about it, and I knew this was completely down to having the breathing to concentrate on! It was also a huge help when I did experience contractions over that 6 week period.

At the beginning of pregnancy, I had started to panic about childbirth. I spent many nights lying awake genuinely worrying about how I would cope with the pain of labour, and fearful that I would let both myself and my husband down. Before long, I started the PBC digital course, often watching a video in bed at the end of the day (so my husband ended up listening to lots of them too!) I enjoyed practicing my breathing, preparing my playlists and imagining how our labour would play out, and before long I found myself incredibly excited about giving birth. The fear had gone!

Unfortunately, there was then an unexpected turn of events. As the end of my third trimester approached, our baby boy was refusing to move from his breech position inside me. Everyone was pretty relaxed about it when he first got into that position, saying he still had plenty of time to spin back again. But as time went on, and he got bigger and bigger, the wiggle room became less and less! Despite my best efforts to encourage him to turn {envisage me practically standing on my head in the evenings, attempting all sorts of positions to try and flip him naturally}, he wouldn’t budge. Just a couple of weeks before my due date, I went to hospital to see if they could turn him around with an external cephalic version/ECV. Two doctors covered my bump in talcum powder, gave me an injection to relax my uterus, and pushed, shoved and squeezed our baby in an attempt to get him to move. I gritted my teeth and let out the odd moan of pain, determined to let them give it their best shot so that there would still be a chance of having a natural vaginal birth. I focused on up-breathing which was great as it gave me something to concentrate on - I’m not sure I could have done it if it weren’t for this! Sadly though, the ECV didn’t work.

This meant we were left with two choices: wait to go into labour naturally and give birth vaginally to a breech baby, or opt to have a planned Caesarean section. Neither of these options were at all what we’d hoped for. Having spoken to lots of different people and researched it ourselves, a vaginal breech delivery did not feel like a safe option for our baby. This left us with the Caesarean section.

We were both so disappointed. We’d spent so long talking about what it would be like when I went into labour - that my husband would be on bath-running duty while I listed to my positive affirmations; how regular my contractions would need to be in order for him to phone the birth unit; what snacks I thought I should have on standby; my playlist for the latent phase of labour, and what songs I wanted for when I began pushing.

Suddenly, the whole vision had been snatched away from us. I’d dreamt of the moment when I would give a final push and see our beautiful baby slip out into the world, when he would then be placed on my chest for immediate skin-to-skin contact and we’d be left alone as a family of three for our "Golden Hour". Being cut open on a set date, regardless of whether my body had given any signs it was ready to labour or not, under bright lights in an operating theatre felt so far away from what I wanted. But we both knew it was by far the safest way for our baby to be born, and so the decision was easy.

We left the hospital after the ECV that day, with the operation booked for just 10 days time, when I would be 39 weeks pregnant. We told only our parents, wanting to keep some element of surprise and normality to the birth. It felt incredibly bizarre to go about our normal business, knowing that we would definitely have our boy the following week! We booked in a food delivery, my husband arranged his paternity and annual leave, and before we knew it, the big day arrived.

I’d been to the hospital for a pre-operative assessment a few days before, and they’d told me I was last on the operating list. This meant we didn’t have to turn up until about 11.00am, which I found disappointing as I wanted to have him first thing! We inevitably got there early and sat in the waiting room, laughing at how surreal it all felt - literally sat in a waiting room to have our baby...

After what felt like an agonising wait - especially as I was starving having fasted since 10.00pm the night before - the midwife appeared and said they were ready for us. The consultant did a final quick scan of my belly to check his position, and then it was time to get changed and walk down the corridor to the operating theatre. Having been waiting for a couple of hours - well, nine months in fact - it felt like a matter of minutes from the time the midwife appeared to us walking into the theatre.

As I perched on the operating table so the anaesthetist could administer my epidural, the midwife chatted to me and got my husband to prepare our Spotify playlist. The mood was relaxed which was great, but I remember saying even at that point to the midwife that I was disappointed I wasn’t going to be pushing my baby out. I know a lot of people don’t get this - one woman said to me, “Why would you want to if you can have a section?” Thankfully, there are those who do understand, and in fact would encourage us to grieve for the birth we would not have - because my husband was also sad to be missing that experience. They explained that it was entirely natural to be upset, and that it was important to acknowledge this. But that also, at the end of the day we would have our baby to cuddle, no matter how he arrived with us.

The epidural kicked in and I giggled at how strange it felt to be unable to move my legs. I lay on my back grinning at my husband nervously as people bustled around me, connecting drips and wires and making their final checks. As the consultant began to clean my belly, our wedding song started to play over the speakers {In My Life by The Beatles} which helped me to relax. We continued to beam at each other as there was lots of tugging and pulling behind the drapes, and suddenly: there he was.

The drapes were lowered and the consultant raised our amazing baby boy from my belly in a Simba-like pose; he instantly opened his eyes and blinked a few times cautiously before letting out the most almighty and wonderful cries. As tears streamed down my face I sobbed with happiness as my husband reached down to give me a kiss. The midwife asked what his name was and I choked it out as I couldn’t stop crying - he was finally here! Our beautiful son was here!

He was carried off to be weighed (7 lbs 8 oz) and cleaned up, and my husband went with them. As I lay there being stitched up, I could hear our baby crying and my husband’s laughter, as tears continued to roll down my cheeks. I was smiling inanely at the ceiling, in a state of complete joy and also shock, and then my boys reappeared, and our son was placed on my chest for that skin-to-skin contact I had always dreamed of.

About half an hour later, we were all finished, and I was wheeled down the corridor to recovery. He’d been on my chest the entire time, apart from when my husband had him for a minute while I was transferred from the operating table to the trolley. He was then back on me for the journey to recovery, and basically didn’t leave my or my husband’s chest until several hours later in the night! The magic toast everyone talks about was produced, and our boy had his first breastfeed - an excellent and conscientious attempt it was too! My husband had the chance for some skin-to-skin cuddles, as I dreamily watched them both from the bed. After a couple of hours we FaceTimed our parents, introducing them all to their new grandson. We spent the whole afternoon simply gazing at him, exclaiming to each other how perfect he was and how lucky we were.

We both got our skin-to-skin moments; he had his first beautiful breastfeed within an hour of being born, and our favourite music had been played as he was brought into the world. Yes, it wasn’t ideal that our first hours as a family were spent in a poky recovery room with several other post-operative women, and yes, I do still feel sad that I didn’t get the birth I’d always hoped for. But all we’ve ever wanted is a child of our own, and from the first moment I held him in my arms, with my husband by my side, I felt utterly complete. He is our world, and the amount of love we have for him is overwhelming, growing each and every day. He is ours, and the day he was born was the best day of my life.