The birth of Otis

I wrote this about a week after Otis was born:

We had our post dates appointment on the Monday afternoon, bag all packed as we thought I'd be induced then and there. The first registrar I saw was an Asian woman who had small hands, too small to feel whether and to what extent I was dilated! She thought not, and told me that they'd have to use Cervidil on me. However, there was no room at the inn — I was told to come back on Thursday! Thursday seemed so far away... I was sorely disappointed and a bit teary — so, so over being pregnant. Because I'd experienced reduced foetal movements that day, however, she wanted me to have a CTG before going home, just to be safe. The CTG was inexplicably abnormal, and in a matter of minutes, the situation changed — I was to be induced immediately. The registrar — a different one — examined me, and, lo and behold, found me to be 2 cm dilated, so instead of using Cervidil, he went straight in with the hook and broke my waters. I found this uncomfortable, but not at all painful — it felt a little like a pap smear, but the pressure was much stronger. And boy, was there water... Litres and litres! I felt lighter already. I was then hooked up to the Syntocinon, and left to go into labour. Phil and I were in such a daze, it had all happened so fast! So it was about 6:30 pm — I called Mum and Lani, and they headed over. I was having some very mild Braxton Hicks at that point, and was feeling really positive and at ease — I even managed a crossword puzzle! "What's all the fuss about?", I thought.

At about 8:30 pm, things started to change. I was experiencing some intense pain, so I positioned myself on the Fitball, leaning over the side of the bed, and Phil and Mum took turns holding a heat pack on my back and rubbing my shoulders. There was some concern about the baby's heart at one point, so they applied an internal monitor that screwed into bubba's scalp. That put our minds at rest, although made it awkward for me to go to the toilet, which I was doing and regular intervals due to the intensity of the pressure down there. After this, I got stuck into the gas. It made me feel drunk and relaxed, and really took the edge off the ouch. I still felt the pain, but it didn't register in quite the same way. I was really reliant on it, sucking it in as if my life depended on it! I think I mentioned an epidural a couple of times, but my clever sister changed the subject, and I never considered it again. During this stage Phil copped a fair bit of abuse — I told him I’d hate him forever, because he didn’t ever have to go through such pain. I also told him we’d be stopping at one. He just went along with whatever I said… Smart move.

At around midnight, I began to feel an urge to push, but didn't recognise the feeling at first. By the time I mentioned it to the midwives, I was 9.5 cm dilated, and with one more contraction was ready to start. I'd stopped using the gas at this point, as it had started to make me feel really out of it, and I wanted some semblance of control. Pushing was hell on earth. I pushed with all my might, with every ounce of strength I had, but it felt as if I was getting nowhere. Of course, I WAS getting somewhere… Although it took a solid two hours for Otis to be born. I alternated between laying on my back and my side, and sucked on ice chips in between contractions. I was so tired, I could barely even speak. But at 2:25 am on Tuesday 15th January, he arrived — the midwife (the senior, tough one — there was also a lovely trainee, who was so sweet and patient and positive) pulled him out of me, his arm came out with his head! The first thing I saw were these enormous black eyes staring up at me. He was swiftly placed on my chest, and there were lots of tears. Everyone was crying and laughing and happy. I’ll never forget it. I didn’t even know whether he was a he or a she, all I knew was he was out and he was OK… And amazingly, so was I!

About an hour later, after Mum and Lan had gone, I started getting some intense contraction-like pains in my back. I was offered Panadol, but I knew that wouldn’t cut it. Concerned, the midwives checked to see whether my uterus had begun to contract. It hadn’t, and what followed was like something out of a horror movie. They pumped their hands up and down on my belly, and pushed out 750 ml of blood clots. It was pure agony, and there was blood absolutely everywhere. Poor Phil was sitting across the room from me, holding little Otis and crying. Finally, they stopped, and the pain subsided. They then inserted a catheter, which really stung, it was unbearable — I was given the gas, which, again, really saved me. After that, I was stitched up — not too painful, in comparison! I had a second degree tear, not bad for his size and his awkward entry into the world! After all the drama, at 8 am I was finally wheeled up to my room. I lost about 1300 ml of blood in total, so was very weak for some time. Overall, I feel a real sense of achievement when I look back on my labour. I also recall the horror and the pain, and know it will be some time before I can contemplate doing it all again! Phil and I are mad about our little boy, he was definitely worth it, all of it — the morning sickness, the SPD, the pain, the fear… I just love him so!