Well it looks like we won’t get a week 40 given that as I type this i am feeding my two day old son. Thats right; Drake William Christopher Eadon was born at 8.46am 21st December.
Hooray for not being pregnant at xmas! So of course this week nothing else significant happened in comparison so i’ll get to the point. Labour.
I’ll be as honest as possible. My early contractions started at 3am on the 20th like period pain every 10-20 minutes. This carried on all day until my waters broke at 8.00pm. We arrived at the midwife birthing centre at my local hospital (Eastbourne) and I was ‘examined’. For anyone who has no kids this is basically where the midwife shoves what feels like the world and his dog up your vajayjay, not really a prettier way to put it im afraid. Yes its uncomfortable as fuck but necasary to get the ball rolling so all in all nothing in comparison to birthing a child. We are 5cm which is halfway there so no going back home for us, whoopie i’m going to have this baby tonight!!
Fast forward to 1am and my next shoving of the world into my fanny… no change. Great. So I get my waters broken again as it turns out only my hindwaters went and babies head is still in the sack. This kicked off the real pain and contractions were coming now every 3 mins regular as clockwork. Giles was timing them and keeping the midwife updated when they came in every 15 minutes or so. At this point the pain was pretty bad so I got in the pool which did the trick for about 30 mins and then I wanted more. Cue gas and air which is literally the dogs bollocks as far as i’m concerned. It was like walking on air between contractions after that and I felt high as a kite. It’s also great to help with the breathing, which thanks to my yoga practise I was pretty damn good at, so far so good.
Then comes the all important pushing part and this is where things start to go a little wrong. I think in hindsight i started pushing before my body was actually ready so I ended up tiring myself out too soon. By this point it’s early hours of the morning and after trying for around an hour I am in the pool on all fours literally wailing that I can’t do it anymore. The midwives and Giles are incredible saying exactly what I need to hear and telling me i’m doing ok however it’s apparent things are not going as well as they should so we decide to get out the pool and do some more pushing on the bed with my legs in the stirrups. This helped but mainly because I was so so tired I needed something to hold me up so I could concentrate on pushing.
After another 20 minutes its discussed that we call the ambulance to take me over to Hastings which is the closest OB led maturnity unit. It wasn’t in my birth plan but by this point I just needed help so I was relieved, I also asked for some pain managment to help me in the ambulance so out came the pethadine which was absolutly amazing much like the gas and air. I think we all hoped while the ambulance came I would manage to get him out, but it just wasn’t happening. By now i’d been pushing for 2 hours and in labour/awake for 27 hours.
I can’t imagine how scared Giles must of felt bless him, but he never once let me see it, and was with me for every single second feeding me lucozade, water and boost chocolate bars (my labour was entirly powered by glucuse products) and at one point letting me use his chest to push my feet against as I tried desperatly to get our babies head out. This prompted him to say to me ‘I can literally see everything opening,’ which must have been pretty damaging for our future sex life but lets hope he forgets that bit.
Anyway the ambulance ride is a blur because I was high on peth and gas but on arrival at Conquest Hospital, and another fisting (which included if i remember a doctor asking me to ‘push’ on his hand while it was up there) baby Drake was born within an hour of arrival with the help of shouty-arm inside vagina-doctor (I was refusing to push and he was refusing my refusal to push – he won obviously) Drake was delivered with help from something called a Kiwi which is like a sucker that attachs to his head and helped pull him out!
I was beyond happy, not only was it over but my boy was on my chest, and he was healthy – despite my trauma his heart rate actually never faultered throughout the whole thing so surprisingly I never once worried about him.
Giles was crying, I was crying and also still slightly high. Our boy was finally here after 30 hours start to finish.
So that is it. The birth of my first born. The end of my pregnancy. Now the real labour begins, or so they keep telling me. I’m not going to lie – i’m crapping my pants. Or at least I will be when I have regained control of my downstairs area.