If Only I'd Known....

I am a mum of five wonderful children aged between 3 and 25, and a granny of a gorgeous baby boy, but even with my quarter of a century of maternal experience under my belt (a belt which is straining under the expanded girth created by five pregnancies), there are still things I wish I'd known.

The mysteries of pregnancy, childbirth and new motherhood are things that you can never really master, however many books you read, websites you scour or episodes of One Born Every Minute you watch!  But you can attempt to glean as much information as you can from as many sources as you can, to make you as prepared as possible for the adventure ahead!  Aptaclub's new app 'Preparing for Birth' has loads of information to support mums through the last trimester keeping them organised and giving tips and advice whenever needed.  Unfortunately for me, mobile phones were barely even invented when I had my first born son.  Women today have access to so much more information (and they get to play Candy Crush Saga when in labour!)  All I had was an old handed down Miriam Stoppard paperback as my only point of reference!  But even with the birth of the World Wide Web and Smartphone technology, there are still things that mums-to-be will wish they had known!

Looking back at my own days of being heavily pregnant (during my grand cumulative total of 3.75 years of pregnancy) these are the things that I wish I had been made aware of during my last trimesters.

My Belly at 6 Months Pregnant with Freddy!

If only I'd known....

....that a baby's kicks at this stage do not feel like fluttering butterflies, but a herd of little elephants rampaging through your internal organs.

....that my belly button would protrude like the end of an uncooked sausage.

....that the smell of my husband would make me gag whenever he came close. (Not that he is particularly smelly, I just became super sensitive to any scent...particularly his!)

....that trying to shave your legs, let alone your bikini line, is utterly impossible with a third trimester baby taking up residence in your uterus. (And don't ask your other half to help unless you want to risk numerous flesh wounds in the process.)

....that I would never bloom.  I spent months waiting for the glow of pregnancy, instead all I got was the sallow, energy-less lethargy of a beached whale.  It would have saved much disappointment knowing I would never be able to replicate the famous pregnant Demi Moore Vanity Fair cover shot.

....that my belly would get so huge that even my husband's extra large dressing gown would not meet up around my middle.  Had I known I  could have avoided the embarrassment of exposing myself to the postman.

....that tattoos stretch!  Your tiny, discreet humming bird on your hip will end up looking like a crazed giant ostrich.

....that cleaning my teeth would make me heave.  Not the best thing to do whilst heavily pregnant with limited bladder control.  Morning underwear changes should be saved until after taking care of your dental hygiene.

....that I would not just get 'cankles', I would get 'thankles'.  Straight down from thigh to foot my legs were like tree trunks.

....that my unborn baby using my bladder as a squeezie toy makes a good night's sleep impossible.

....that cutting my long hair into a very short style to make it easier to manage was a really bad idea.  Not only did I ending up looking like a bloke with a beer belly, instead of a heavily pregnant goddess, it was no easier than having a ponytail.  It took me a year to grow it back before I felt like 'me' again.

....that my craving for Chow Mein from the local Chinese would become a very expensive habit and pile on unnecessary extra pounds that I would convince myself were down to water retention.

....that I would be so emotional.  I would sob at anything...TV programmes, songs, even TV ads!  One glimpse of a smiling child or a kindly old person would see me in floods of tears.  I even cried at a cookery programme once...but the biscuits they made were just so beautiful!

....that Braxton Hick's contractions will make me think I'm in labour many times.  Timing them every single time I got a slight twinge only led to disappointment. So instead of thinking 'this is it' every single day for the last four weeks of pregnancy, which is very stressful, just relax and go to sleep.  If you wake up in the morning still pregnant, it was a false alarm.

....to tell everyone my due date was two weeks later than it actually was, to avoid the well meaning "Are you still here?" comments.  They drove me insane!  "Yes I am still here!  Still pregnant and utterly fed up.  What are you gonna do about it!"

....that having a hot curry followed by sex does not guarantee that you will go into labour...but it's a nice way to spend an evening in with the hubby!

....to make a date to do something that you really want to do on your due date.  This is a win-win situation.  You will either have something lovely to do as a distraction from the prospect of going overdue, or you will be unable to do it because you will have given birth already and will be basking in the joy of your new baby.  Either way, it's a result!

....that every ache, pain, embarrassing moment, stretch mark, varicose vein and sleepless night will all be worth it in the end, because being heavily pregnant meant I was growing the most precious and important things I will ever have in my life inside me.

"If Only I'd Known....It Would All Be Worth It In The End!!"

This post is Inside the Wendy House's entry into the Aptaclub 'If Only I'd Known...' Competition.

One Born Every Minute #Pain

Labour pain is unlike any other pain that I have ever endured.  The unrelenting intense waves that rack your whole being seem more than the body can bear, but are forgotten in an instant once your baby is born. (Although with subsequent babies the afterpains are a bit of a shocker!!)

When my first son was born back in 1988, I was given an epidural.  It did not work, I could still feel the right side of my belly and my leg.  The doctor told me I was wrong.  He kept pricking a pin into my leg asking if I could feel it.  Left leg...no.  Right leg...ouch!  Yet he still didn't believe me.  This didn't really pose a problem, albeit making me feel like I was mad and not taken seriously, until an emergency C-Section was called for as my son went into serious distress with his heart rate failing to pick up between contractions.  I can only imagine what would have happened had the scalpel cut through my un-anaesthetized body!  Thankfully, the Gods were on my side and the urge to push saw the doctor have one attempt at a forceps delivery, bringing my poor little scrap of a son into the world, blue, unbreathing and in shock.  He was resuscitated and is now a strapping 23 year old.  Having third degree tears sewn up without any pain relief was horrendous.  I was screaming in pain but the consultant just kept saying I'd had an epidural and couldn't feel it.  I'm not sure if the pain or the humiliation was worse.  These days, epidurals failing is accepted.  Epidurals taking on just one side is an acknowledged problem.  Back then I was made to feel like an over dramatic liar.

It is no wonder that from that point I was loathe to have any intervention as far as pain relief was concerned.  With my second birth, I had high blood pressure and was made to have Pethedine. (The midwife actually threatened me by saying if I refused I'd have to have an epidural instead....nice.)  I promptly went green and threw up.  I felt so woozy and unwell.  Pain would have been a better option!

Gas and Air is something I really hate.  I can't use the breathing apparatus, it dries up my mouth and I hate the idea of feeling drunk.  I just couldn't co-ordinate my breathing to suck the stuff up and get it to do its thing.  Many a helpful student midwife has tried to insert a mouthpiece into my face at the peak of my labouring.  They have all been met with the the sort of response that only a woman during transition can give.

For me, I'd rather take the pain than suffer any of the methods of pain relief offered to expectant mums in labour.  Consequently, my last three births have been completely drug free.  I am not a Zen Master who goes into a zone of tranquility.  I don't practice any hypnotherapy, aromatherapy or yogic practices.  I don't do any of those breathing exercises taught to you in ante-natal classes.  I don't have a particularly high pain threshold. I just let my body do its thing.  It knows what to do, even if my conscious mind is not too happy about it.  The more you relax and give in to what is happening, the better it is.  Concentrating on the end goal and appreciating that each twinge is your body's way of facilitating the impending birth makes it so much more bearable, less frightening and allows you to accept the pain.  I have had three babies weighing between 8lb 11 oz and 9lb 10 oz with no pain relief at all.

I joke that I am a hardcore birther...but the reality is that drug-free is simply the best option for me who has tried all the drugs and hates them!  I don't think anyone should ever be judged for their decisions in labour.  Natural birth, epidural, elective C-Section? As long as mum and baby are healthy and happy at the end of it all, then the choices were well made.  I personally prefer the drug free option, maintaining my control and managing pain in my own way.  I'm sure it wouldn't suit everyone but it was my choice, and that is what giving birth should be about...choice!

One Born Every Minute #Dads

It was October 2002.  Overdue and starting to panic, given the memory of my first son's stressful, induced delivery following the failure of my placenta, I was very fearful.  Heading to the High Risk maternity hospital, I was expecting at least 24 hours of waiting around for labour to start following the induction.  So it was decided that my sister would come with me to keep me company, while Ian went into work to finalise everything before going on paternity leave.  Sister and husband would change shifts in the evening, so Ian could be there when things got going.

Ian had been present at Ella's birth 5 years earlier.  We went into hospital after my waters broke in the late evening.  I was assessed and told that nothing would happen until morning and Ian should go home.  My sister was also with us and we kicked up a fuss because I didn't want to be left alone.  The midwife tutted and found us a pre-labour room with no bed in it, instead it had a ball and a mat on the floor!  We were then ignored.  Three hours later, having had no check-ups, no monitoring and no pain relief, my 9lb baby girl was born.  My sister had shouted for help and the tutting midwife ambled in, took one look at me and suddenly went into ultra efficient mode.  She didn't even have time to get her gloves on though!  It was an unnecessarily stressful birth in that we were simply left alone and I was made out to be an over reacting early labourer.  Ian did not have the experience he had anticipated, being bedside in a well managed labour suite.  Instead he was part of an almost feral delivery.  None of us really knew what was going on, and for Ian, this was his first time seeing a baby being born.  He admits to feeling clueless and helpless.  He was a little shell-shocked, blown away and in emotional over load.  But he instantly fell in love with his newborn baby daughter that he cradled in his arms.  So the plan for birth number two was made. It was a good plan that covered everything... everything that is except for when things don't go to plan.

I arrived at the hospital and was processed, given a pessary to soften the cervix and left.  I instantly had a huge contraction pain which was dismissed by staff.  (Why am I hard to believe?)  I was sent to the lunch room and told that I couldn't have any with me until visiting time that afternoon.  Barbaric!  Ian phoned but in spite of my pains, I was convinced by the consultant that they were just a reaction to the pessary and not labour, so I told him to stick to the plan, but to stay in touch.  Me and my sister went to the hospital cafe as I didn't want to be left alone on the ward.  I couldn't even sit in the chair, jumping up every three minutes in pain.  We went back to the ward and asked if I could be assessed.  Again they said I wasn't in established labour.  At this point Ian who was sixty miles away and on tenterhooks, phoned the hospital.  He was told nothing was happening.  Meanwhile I was pacing, puffing and panting in the ward where other non-labouring were trying to enjoy visiting time with their families.  They tried not to stare at the mad woman in the corner!  Eventually I convinced someone that I needed a room as I was in pain and had no pain relief.  They begrudgingly let me into a delivery suite and said they'd monitor me for a half hour.  There was no urgency.  I asked someone to phone Ian.  They said they would.  The midwives faffed around trying to find a monitor.  Within 10 minutes of getting into the room at 3.17pm I gave birth kneeling up on the bed, unattended.  Midwives suddenly sprung into action...too little too late. Ian had missed it.

Unbeknown to me, he had not been contacted.  He had also in fact tried to phone up a further few times, each time being told nothing was happening, or being left on hold until the phone cut off.  With some sort of sixth sense in action, he left work because he couldn't bear to be so far away.  I had been told that Ian was being contacted so expected him to arrive in an hour or so.  Time crept on and he didn't come.  I had visions of him in a ditch somewhere.  I began to panic.  Bless him, he was driving around trying to find me my favourite snacks and magazines to bring to the hospital as he still thought nothing was going on and he'd be joining me at six o'clock.  It was only when he was congratulated on the birth of his new daughter by my friend who had picked up the children from school, that he realised he was a dad again.  If only we had all had mobile phones...none of the communication cock-ups would have happened!

When he did finally get to the hospital, 20 miles away, Kizzy was dressed and asleep in her crib and 2 hours old.  He was a gibbering wreck, shocked, stunned, upset, frustrated, but most of all over the moon to meet his brand new little girl.  He bonded with her as instantly as he would have done if things had gone to plan.

Freddy's birth put right all the mistakes and disappointments.  Ian and I were together throughout from me waking him up at 3am with my waters breaking to his birth at 5.56pm.  We laughed as he mopped up puddles of amniotic fluid as I had a huge amount of water and Fred's head wasn't engaged.  I was like a tap!  I didn't go into active labour until late afternoon, but he was allowed to stay with me.  We hugged.  We listened to music. He rubbed my back.  We did it all together.  He was 100% present, engaged and involved.  For once I had an amazing midwife who was straightforward, unpatronising and efficient.  Ian cut Freddy's cord and even managed to video himself doing it!  He dressed his son in his first little outfit.  He looked after him while I had a shower.  It was perfect.  Ian was in awe, but enjoyed the whole experience.  He knew what to expect and knew what I needed.  He was the most amazing birth partner, finally being given his chance to shine.

Even with births that did not go to plan, his love for each of our children is equal (including our two eldest who may not be his children biologically, but are his in every other sense of the word).  The only difference that Freddy's birth has made, is that it has made us closer as a couple.  We shared an experience that was simply awesome.  Ian feels now that he knows how good a birth can be.  He feels so blessed to have had the opportunity to be a part of a wonderful birthing experience, but that does not diminish the overwhelming joy he has felt when holding each newborn baby for the first time, regardless of how they came into the world.

This post is part of the Channel 4 \ Netmums One Born Every Minute linky that is currently running on Netmums Blog.