One Born Every Minute #Conception

The final prompt for the Netmums 'One Born Every Minute' post is disability and conception.  I can't comment on the subject of disability but conception is something I'm very familiar with.

My own mum had trouble conceiving.  She had blocked Fallopian Tubes which needed to be opened in order for her to get pregnant.  It took five years for my parents to conceive my eldest sister.  Five years later they had the procedure again to conceive their second child.  Then five years later, quite by chance they naturally conceived me...their little accident miracle!!

Knowing about my mother's difficulties conceiving, I thought the same may be true of me.  However, I couldn't have been more wrong.

Aged 18...New Year's Eve...pregnant.
Aged 21...Valentine's Day...pregnant
Aged 27....Judge Dredd Film Premiere and after party with free booze...pregnant
Aged 33....New Year's Eve (again)...pregnant

All these pregnancies were not exactly planned, they were more like getting lucky in a game of conceptual Russian Roulette.  It was a conscious decision to not take precautions.  I definitely courted the notion of getting pregnant and I did so incredibly quickly and easily.  Each baby was adored from the moment they were conceived (and continue to be the most precious things in my life.)

However, with Freddy we decided to 'try' for a baby.  We were both the wrong side of 40 and I was fully aware that fertility levels rapidly decline as we get older.  I had been on the pill for many years but came off them when I realised they were adversely affecting my mental health.  We discussed Ian having a vasectomy, but I couldn't bring myself to let him do it.  It was too final and I didn't feel that my childrearing days were complete.  So we thought we'd leave it to nature and have one last try.  I instantly felt really panicky convincing myself I'd be infertile.  I even began to talk myself out of the whole thing to avoid disappointment if I didn't fall pregnant.  I started to think about how easy life would be as the other children were getting so grown-up. I had all but given up on the whole idea, finding a million and one reasons to not try at all.  That would mean I'd never have to face up to not being able to conceive "at my age".

Then....there it was...two lines on the pregnancy test!  I had indeed become pregnant within the first month of trying.  I was in equal measure delighted and terrified.  I went on to have my gorgeous baby boy and thank my lucky stars every day that I fell pregnant before fear stopped me from trying!

I am so lucky that I have never had to worry or wait to get pregnant.  It really was so easy for me to conceive  and each baby has been an absolute blessing.  I can't imagine what my own mum went through being unable to fall pregnant naturally.

My Freddy Bump!

My Baby Boy x

One Born Every Minute #Rulebreakers

This week's theme is over on the Netmums' One Born Every Minute linky is Rulebreakers.  I have always been a little unconventional in my life, and my path has taken some twists and turns along the way.  Although generally I follow the rules, sometimes they are there to be broken, especially when the wellbeing of my family is concerned.

When I had my first born son, I became a single teen mum.  I split up with my boyfriend before I realised I was pregnant, and despite a brief attempt at getting back together, I was on my own again at six months pregnant. At the time, this was still considered quite shocking and frowned upon.  When I went to the Family Planning Clinic to have my pregnancy confirmed (as home tests were shockingly complicated and unreliable back then) the nurse I saw immediately tried to book me in for an abortion.  I found the courage to object, despite feeling vulnerable and alone, and she wrote on my file in big letters "refuses to consider termination!"  I was glad to start my journey into mothering as someone who was prepared to break the rules for the welfare of her future children!

My birth with Joseph was complicated.  With hindsight I wish I could have been more assertive with certain aspects of the delivery.  But as his life was seriously in jeopardy I went along with whatever was required even if that meant a failed epidural, a scalp monitor, an almost caesarean and a forceps delivery.  With my son at risk, this was not a time to question authority, even it some of the decisions made were not in my best interests.  But all ended well.

Three years later I was single and pregnant again.  I was engaged to someone who I believed I had a future with, but into the pregnancy, our relationship was so toxic it threatened to ruin the lives of myself, my son and my unborn child.  I preferred the prospect of going it alone than staying in a damaging relationship.  I moved out at six months pregnant into my own flat.  I flouted the rule of mum, dad and 2.4 kids in favour of life as a single parent and it was the best decision I ever made!

As I've got older, I've become wiser, more assertive and a more forceful champion of what is best for me and my family.  Being happily married to a marvellous man for fifteen years has also given me strength.  So when I found myself pregnant at 40 I was able to do things my way. I refused all the blood tests and the genetic screening that I was offered.  This was my little miracle...regardless of the likelihood of him having any of the conditions they would screen for.  I didn't need those tests.

The medical profession immediately classified me as high risk and consequently told me I needed a consultant delivery.  I was told that my fifth delivery would be at high risk of causing a post-partum haemorrhage and that I could need a blood transfusion.  They made it sound like an absolute given, putting the fear of God into me!  But I did not want to give birth in a room geared up for medical emergencies.  I wanted things as natural as possible.  My pregnancy was absolutely normal with no causes for concern throughout the nine months.  I went into labour naturally.   But still I had quite a fight on my hands being allowed to labour in the midwife led unit of the hospital.  They said if anything went wrong I wasn't in the best place, gave me graphic ideas of what could happen and they strongly recommended that I reconsidered.  I didn't.

I went on to have a drug free labour and natural delivery with no stitches, giving my baby boy the best start in life.  We didn't need monitoring, a 'just in case' cannula or any of the other interventions that come with being 'high risk'.  I fought against their rules.  I was a rule breaker...I was so glad I had the courage of my convictions to go for the birth I wanted!!

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.