Birth Stories

I love my children, but I don’t want any more.

Well, part of me does. I hear about large families from people who are one of 8 kids, or parents of 5 daughters who all dress the same (including mum) and i think how amazing that is. What an adventure! Imagine Christmas in that house – the mess, the noise, the absolute chaos! All that Love. Then I look at my 35-year-old self and think… No. I don’t like mess. I can’t do chaos. My love is no less for the two that I have than the 5 that I might.

Two is my limit. My perfect number. And as I don’t plan on going through another pregnancy I wanted to share my birth experiences, to look back on when I’m feeling broody and as a record for my children.

Rose

My first pregnancy was quite enjoyable. I loved nurturing the growing baby inside me. I ate well, I exercised, I did antenatal yoga and joined an NCT group (I’d highly recommend both of these by the way – my NCT friends are some of my closest still). I am prone to anxiety so anything I could do to feel more in control of this totally uncontrollable situation I did.

5 days before my due date my partner got up early and went fishing. With a day to myself I planned to go for a swim, cook something delicious for lunch and spend the afternoon watching Andy Murray in the Wimbledon final (very excited about this – I’d spent most of my maternity leave following Wimbledon). This is still my ideal day.

Instead I got out of bed and went ‘pop!’ My waters had broken. Around 10 minutes later my partner called me to see if I was OK because he ‘had a feeling…’ He never calls when he’s fishing.

We went in to the hospital and were sent home again to wait for things to happen. My mum had come over to wait for a delivery we were expecting and by the time we arrived back my contractions had started. I put my yoga in to practice – bending my legs, circling my hips, child’s pose. I found it helped to move if only to focus on something other than the pain.

My mum did not stop talking. Whilst I was dancing around the kitchen she was happily watching the tennis and asking things like where we got our washing machine…

Then my sister called. Mum must have told her I’d gone in to labour and she wanted to see how I was doing. What had happened so far? Had I thrown up yet? How is Mum? My family love a casual chat whist you’re going through frequent bouts of excruciating pain, who doesn’t?

We watched Murray win Wimbledon and returned to the hospital. The next few hours passed in a haze of contractions, my partner cracking jokes and a ridiculously long and difficult walk across the hospital from one room to another for reasons I cannot remember. As my contractions grew stronger I channelled my energy into my yoga moves. By the end I was wiggling and gyrating like a possessed Hula girl.

When I felt I needed to push the Midwife told me to hold on, her shift had almost finished and if I started pushing now she would have to stay for the delivery. I was OK with this (WHAT?! I just said “OK” and tried not to push! I still can’t believe it).

I didn’t swear. I didn’t cry. I didn’t poop (so I’m told).

We had decided not to know the sex of our first child at our scan. We had both been excited to finally find out and when they held her up for me to see – a little girl – I actually didn’t really care. She was here! She was whole and complete and healthy and I wouldn’t have cared either way. I made a beautiful little human.

Iris

My second pregnancy was different. I was BIG. Having a child at home and also working meant I didn’t have time to look after myself as I had first time. I still went for walks and swam but I found everything exhausting this time around. I joined another Yoga group in the town we now lived in but didn’t get in to it. Rather than filling me with hope and positivity I found the class made me feel strangely lonely, it’s difficult to explain. (The YogaBirth class I went to during my first pregnancy was fantastic. There was a sense of community with the other mums-to-be and I felt truly supported and empowered. You can find out more here: http://www.yogabirth.org/ )

My hips hurt. I had restless legs at night. I had unbelievable nosebleeds. Every time I sneezed was convinced that the baby would come shooting through my stomach like the scene form Alien (later found out that this was because my placenta was at the front). But I was excited. We were having another girl, a baby sister.

As my due date approached I readied myself for another early arrival. She was due just after Christmas so I wasted a lot of energy worrying about poor weather conditions and Christmas traffic blocking up the route to the hospital when the time should come.

We had our own little family Christmas a week before the 25th, just in case we should end up in hospital on Christmas Day. It was the best Christmas I’ve ever had. There was no pressure, no demands, no last-minute shopping stress. We had a great little turkey dinner (had to be done) and took the day at our own pace.

My waters broke on my due date whilst watching Pointless (it does get rather exciting!). My sister was called – our designated baby sitter – and we headed off to the hospital. This time contractions had already started and were becoming quite frequent, tho when examined by the Midwife I was told we should probably go home, the baby would be a while yet. I would have protested, we live 20 minutes from the hospital and I had a feeling this little one would arrive quite quickly given my previous birth experience. But it was late at night and the roads were quiet, and the other mum-to-be in the ward with us was in a lot of pain. It would be more comfortable at home. I tried to relax, made a cup of tea but before I had a chance to drink it I decided to give the hospital another call. The contractions were getting strong now. “Leave it half an hour and see how you feel then” I was told. I hung up, then instantly changed my mind, it was time to go.

Things progressed quickly from then on. I had to try not to push in the car and couldn’t help but scream with the pain. My partner wasn’t 100% on the route so I was giving directions between cries of pain.

I arrived back at the hospital and staggered along the corridor screaming “The baby’s coming! Baby’s coming now! Her head was already out by the time I managed to get my trousers off, and our baby girl was born within 20 minutes of making that phone call from home.

On the recovery ward the following day a couple were telling their visitors about the woman who came screaming down the ward in the middle of the night. They had heard it all, which was probably terrifying.

The first thing people have said to us when they saw both of our children: “Ohh She’s got a lot of hair!”… Yup, we make hairy children.