Posted in Birth, Parenting

Birth story.

After reading a few other blogs about people criticising others for having a cesarean birth. I thought I’d share my birth story.

On the 16th October I went in to be induced, I’d had a sweep around 10am. By 12 I was having contractions. I went to the ward like I was supposed to at 8pm, already in labour. The next morning, after no sleep, (can anyone get sleep on a labour ward?) I was wanting something for the pain. I’m a whimp, I was only 2cm. They said normally I wouldn’t have had anything, but my contractions were showing stronger for what they were supposed to be. I was monitored all night, I can remember the nurses being concerned at them. They gave me a low dose of pethidene at 8 am, hoping I would sleep for a bit wake up further along. At 8.20 a nurse was bringing in another lady, all I heard was, ‘turn on your left side now’. I vaguely remember trying to move. She turned me, before I knew it alarms were going and I was being whizzed through corridors. I knew there was something wrong, and I knew there was nothing I could do about it. This is the most terrifying experience ever. All I kept saying was, what’s wrong with my baby, is my baby ok, please tell me he’s ok. The nurse just said he needs to come out now. I was put in a room, there must have been 30 people around me. One stripping me, one putting drips in one hand, one in the other, someone asking could they break my waters, another asking me to sign a form, others asking me for contact details of my husband. I know there was change of shifts happening, I heard two arguing, one saying he needs out now, another give it five he’ll be fine. They attached a monitor to his head to get a heart beat. Every time I had a contraction his heart rate was dropping. I’m lucky my husband is five minutes away from the hospital, he met me going into theatre. He had just changed into scrubs and baby was born kind of thing. He was at the hospital by 9.30, Z was born at 10.11.

During this time other than pure panic, I don’t know how else I was feeling. I wasn’t altogether with it.

Am I glad I had a section and my son lived? Yes. Am I glad I had a section and lost a lot of blood? No. Am I glad I had a section that I was in pain for the next few weeks? Oh hang on nearly 3 years later I still have a bit of pain on my left side. No. Am I glad I had a section and can’t remember half what should have been something as straight foreward as giving birth? No. Would I do it again for the life of my child? Yes.

So to all the ladies that truly believe I am less of a mother because my son entered this world through the sun roof, your wrong.

My son is now giggling in his sleep, if that nurse hadn’t walked in when she did, if her quick reaction was slower who knows what the outcome would have been. So I for one am thankful that there are these skilled people, who everyday cut through seven layers of skin, fat and muscle to give parents a healthy baby.

Parenting is hard enough and judgemental enough without being looked down upon for something so silly as doing something to save your child. I don’t think a section is the easy way out. For six weeks after you can not drive, after a normal birth you could maybe drive yourself home. For six weeks I had to rely on others for hospital visits, and you do need to be at these visits, all after having major surgery. Yup, major surgery.

Author:

first time mother, first time blogger

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