May The Fourth Be With You (And Also With You)

CONTENT WARNING: Graphic labour/birth description, no pictures. 

"Soph? My waters have broken"
"Oh Jess! Don't cry!"
"I'M NOT CRYING. I'M REALLY PISSED OFF. I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE GOING TO LONDON TONIGHT"

And so, the tale of Noah begins. You see, Noah was not due until the fourteenth, but he decided to break with long family tradition of being overdue, and come on May 4th instead. This could have been to honour our granny, who was 81 yesterday. Or it could have been to impress his father by being born on Star Wars day. The neonatal creep.

So I told Jess to phone the hospital to check her waters had actually broken, and then sat anxiously by my phone. Jess took a good two hours to finally get herself up the hospital, where they confirmed that her waters had broken (as if you could mistake it for anything else) and that the baby was fine. She went home to AWAIT EVENTS. I spent this time exhorting her to RUN UP AND DOWN STAIRS over Whatsapp, and discovering my toddler had chucked seasalt all over the dining room to drive cars through. Parenthood. Who'd do it?

By about 2:30pm, she was feeling contractions and asked me to come and help. I got there about an hour later, and she was wandering about. Our mum had seven kids, with nary a stitch or any pain relief, and was a massive advocate of active labour. When I had Jack, my mum made me run up and down stairs for half an hour to get labour established. It worked. And it worked with Jess as well. Me and her husband, Scott, watched Deadpool and drank tea while she paced, posed:

and crept about like a praying mantis. It was like watching a very odd step class.

Time passed. By about 5pm, the contractions were beginning to bite. At 5:30, I decided we should probably go to hospital soon (as the arbiter of all things birthy) and Jess agreed. I timed her contractions for fifteen minutes, and they were every three minutes, lasting a minute. So, at 6:15pm, off we went.

Except that at the hospital, they make you fucking WAIT for triage. Jess was starting to struggle with the intensity by the time we arrived, and it's quite hard to handle massive contractions in a corridor. I got her to squat straight into them ("Use your knees for the squeeze"), using the handy bars all over the walls as a prop. They took her to triage at about 7pm, and finally actually assessed her at 7:45pm. We got Jess to kneel on the bed to cope, which is the position I found most useful having my lot, and she stayed mostly on her knees after that. She was falling asleep in between contractions, or staring at me like a horror movie doll, which was a sign to me that labour was well established. Her assessment showed she was 5cm, and the baby was happy, so she was transferred to the Midwife Led Birthing Unit.

It was my first time on the MLBU - Alex was born in the consultant unit, and Sooz had Evie in a consultant room because it was nearest - and it's AMAZING. Look at this fucking bed:

Look at all those supports! LUXURY! There was also a beanbag, birth stool and hanging rope thing in case you want to give birth Tarzan style. Jess stayed on the amazing bed throughout.

The internal examination really ramped up Jess' labour, and she wasn't really getting more than a minute's break at a time, with waves of two or three minute contractions. And believe me, it fucking hurts. So she asked for entonox, and I said she had to wait a bit longer because I'm actually a sadist. Then the midwives changed over and took forever to find the entonox, while Jess went swivel-eyed-loon with the pain, and actually PUNCHED THE BED. I haven't seen Jess go full mental for years, it was hilarious.

Yeah, I know, you're not supposed to laugh at the birthing woman, but it was funny.

I know, she should have punched me. It is to her credit that she didn't.

The entonox came at 9pm, and after that, she was mostly fucking fucked. Completely pissed. She didn't get the giggles, or start screaming she was BOLD, like Sooz did. Instead, she huffed on it like crazy when the contractions came, and then completely zoned out. She later said she felt like she was drunk in the toilets at Flares. She looked pissed as a fart. I'm surprised she didn't suggest karaoke.

At about 9:30, I nipped to the loo, and when I returned, she said "I JUST SCREAMED I NEED TO PUSH", and with the next contraction, was in transition. Transition is the joyful phase between contractions to open the cervix and contractions to push the baby out, and most women try and go home or give up at this point. With Jim, I was halfway up the stairs to delivery, stopped and was like, "Nope, I'm going home". Needless to say, I did not go home. If Jess harboured any longing to leave, we couldn't hear her because of the entonox tube in her mouth.

So, she began to push at about 9:45pm, and with a first baby, this can take hours. I know, it looks like a two minute job in every TV show, but it's fucking hard work to push a massive baby-head down a relatively narrow muscular tube that's never done it before. The midwife clearly expected this to take about a year and a half, when suddenly some hair appeared at the opening. She went and got the birth pack open, and fetched an apron, and all of a sudden, he crowned. Crowning is when the head comes through the cervix. Motherfucker, it BURNS. Jess was a-howling and a-screaming and pushing like a demon, and panic-pushed his head out in one fell swoop. The midwife didn't even get her apron on.

So, Noah's there, head poking out. Jess is euphoric and waiting for the next contraction to breathe his body out. The midwife is entirely taken aback by all this, and praying Jess hasn't ripped her entire pelvic floor out. Scott is being adorable and saying to Jess "His head's out! His head's out". And me? I hadn't eaten since 11am coz of my useless gallbladder, so I was sat on a birth stool opposite, eating a banana, tweeting updates, with a perfect view of the whole thing, occasionally shouting encouragement.

The next contraction, Jess breathed Noah out beautifully and he was born at 10:15pm, all tiny 7lb 5oz of him. And that was that. We breed like Weasleys.

Not a nipslip, but TINY BABY FINGERS

Noah did not appreciate being born. He howled at the indignity of the thing for a whole hour, until Jess managed to latch him on, and then he was happy. Honestly, who turns up ten days early for a party and then cries coz there's no food? I stayed to see him weighed, and the delivery of the placenta (bleurgh), and went home before the stitching. Thankfully, Jess still has a pelvic floor.

Jess was an absolute star. Labouring without water is more intense (no buffer), and labouring quickly is a proper mindfuck. From the internal onwards, she never got more than 90 seconds break, and only went a little bit mental. Scott was also a star. He didn't panic, he didn't pass out, he didn't shy away from cutting the cord. It was an honour and a privilege to be there. I am so proud of them.

So, numbers: SROM at 8am, established labour at 7pm, transition at 9:45pm, delivery at 10:15pm. Well done Jess, you take after me. Enjoy your 90 minute labour next time.