The birth

Several people have asked me about the birth. It’s funny because although I am pretty carefree in discussing most of my private life, inner thoughts and feelings to the point that I’m not sure what kind of impression I actually give of myself, this feels like a rather private matter. But then again, since I can redirect any future questions to this blog post, I shall attempt to give it a place in history by writing down it’s narrative.

The very early morning of February 17, my contractions began. I was suppose to have a “light” induction in the morning anyway, which my midwife was going to perform. This was necessary as I was already 12 days overdue. So much for my project management and planning skills!

The contractions started sometime around 1.30 – 2 am. In the beginning they were not very strong, so I wasn’t sure exactly what it was. But with time they increased in strength and although we tried to sleep through it all, it was almost impossible. I felt bad for Reinout who had already had a long day and at one point I was even sure an argument would erupt between us. After all you are not really yourself when you are in labour, and I was not about to take anyone’s advice.

I went downstairs instead and let Reinout sleep. I finished off whatever Swedish gingerbread we had left and a few pieces of stale candy. It probably helped for the time being but later I would regret it throwing up violently. I went through the contractions on the couch clocking them, and by then I was absolutely certain this was labour. After a while I managed to find a semi-comfortable position and as I was completely exhausted by then I passed out. An hour later, at 7 am Reinout woke me up. Although I didn’t tell him (I have far better social skills than my husband in these situations) I was pretty upset that he woke me up and once again the contractions gained in strength. At 9 o’clock Reinout called the midwife who came shortly afterwards.

Luckily it was my favourite midwife, a really sweet young woman, looking like Billie Piper. Who wouldn’t want to have Belle du Jour delivering your baby? She did an internal exam which showed that I had opened 2 cm. But as there was no way of telling how fast this would go since it was my second delivery, she advised us to go to the hospital at this point. As I had asked for pain relief (which is pretty rare here in Holland) she had to call the hospital to arrange for it.  We were all set to go.

20 minutes later around 10.30 or so, we arrived at the hospital. At this point my contractions were pretty intense. I tried to do the breathing exercises my midwife had given me a crash course in. These had worked pretty well up until this point, but by now I was dying for an injection.

We were shown our room and the nurse got the monitoring up and running. I asked for my pain relief but was told I would have to wait for this until the doctor came.  I was a bit surprised as I thought they would be prepared to at least give something upon arrival. This is the point when the breathing techniques went out the window. I know that labour is intensive, but I had kind of forgotten how bad it really is. I don’t want to scare anyone off reading this, and I’m sure it’s because of my infamous low pain level, but I thought I was dying. The nurse kept telling me to continue the breathing exercises but I couldn’t. Instead I tried to breath regularly with a sort of humming noise that fappeared to sooth me. It worked but whenever the nurse interrupted me my focus was lost and the pain got even worse. At that point I was screaming. When she told me that someone was sleeping in the other room and I had to be quiet I really flipped. I shouted at Reinout “I want her out now.” Reinout tried to calm me down too and when that didn’t work he got pissed with me. I really didn’t care. In fact I felt at that point that he was completely redundant to the whole affair. Even his aftershave which I love irritated the hell out of me, and I waved with my hands whenever he came to close. I just didn’t want anyone touching me.

The gynecologist, who was a young female doctor, came in after about an hour and she promised to arrange something for the pain. However this took another 30 minutes for them to get for me. Finally about 20 minutes before the delivery the pain relief was administered. 10 minutes later I felt an enormous urge to push, and after another examination I had opened the full 10 cm. In a way this was such a relief, knowing that the ending was in sight. I really didn’t give a flying f**k about my screams, which somehow blocked the worst of the pain. The actual pushing lasted about 8 minutes, but towards the end I was very tired. When it looked like he wasn’t going to come out that easily they did an episiotomy which in hindsight I regret. But then again there was no other option as his heart rate was slowing down. The cut, which tore further, provided immediate help and less than 10 seconds later I had Sebastian in my arms. The relief was immense.

This is a moment, that when looking back, overshadows all things else. I just looked at him and although he didn’t open his eyes, I knew there was a connection. I don’t recall that I cried, I was too much in shock for that. Reinout was immediately at our side and we just joined together, like a holy trinity.

The rest of the day went by in a haze. I had quite a few stitches. Fortunately they did  get me local anaesthetic for that. Sebastian was being cared for by the nurse, and he weighed in at 3,5 kg, a perfectly healthy and normal weight. We stayed at the hospital for another 6 hours and were sent home with a clear light around 7 pm. Victoria and Mark Jan had already joined us by then.

So there is my story. I’m sure every woman’s story is different. My delivery wasn’t bad, and looking back at it, I’m very happy Reinout was there, talking to me, coaching me, and holding both my hands, squeezing them in an irregular pattern so that I would have my mind on this sensation rather than the pain.

The result is of course the most beautiful there is. I can safely say I would go through it all again any second. But the next time, it won’t be in Holland.  Call me a sissy but I want my Entonox (laughing gas) and epidural.

(1 votes, average: 5 out of 5)

 Loading ...