Sabrina’s Home VBAC Waterbirth

April 7th, 2009 by jenny - Tagged with VBAC, waterbirth - Posted in Birth Stories

My daughter was born in hospital in 2005 under difficult circumstances.  I had lost my mum very suddenly when I was 7 months pregnant, and the gestational diabetes (diabetes which comes on during, and as a result of, pregnancy) became extremely poorly controlled.  The grieving I went through meant that I took little interest in exactly how I would give birth, and I went along with obstetric opinions on the day.  Ultimately, Ava was born by c-section, healthy and well and perfect in every way, however, the experience of a hospital birth was something that I didn’t necessarily want to go through again when I became pregnant with my second child in the summer of 2006.

 

I knew with some clarity what I didn’t want – another caesarean, another prolonged hospital stay, the feeling of being overlooked, out of control and my wishes dismissed.  The only thing I knew I wanted was a natural birth, wherever and however it happened.  I knew that following my previous c-section and history of gestational diabetes that there was no way my case would be treated sympathetically by the obstetricians and midwives at my local maternity unit, so I booked in with the Essex Midwifery Practice.

 

At my initial consultation, I met with Rachel and Vicky, who listened to the full (long and boring!) story of my first birth.  They heard how the experience had made me extremely apprehensive about birth.  They listened to my worries about how to keep my diabetes under control.  Most importantly, they understood how important it had been to me to feel that I had some dignity and sense of control during the birth process, and how upsetting it had been when I felt that I had lost this during my daughter’s birth.  They assured me that this was something that they valued too. 

 

The pregnancy progressed relatively uneventfully until around the 20^th week.  I knew I would have to take a Glucose Tolerance Test to ascertain whether I had developed gestational diabetes again.  To my disappointment, I could tell instantly from the blood glucose meter reading that I definitely was.

 

Subsequent meetings with midwives showed that I would have a very difficult time trying to have my natural birth in hospital.  At my first ‘consultant’ appointment, Vicky came with me.  The Senior House Officer was very negative about my hopes for a natural birth, and gave me the party line, which was “yes, of course we would like you to have a natural birth, but your chances are slim”.  Roughly translated, this comes out as “I have to tell you that we want you to have a natural birth, but actually, you will probably be strapped down with a drip throughout your labour, and unsurprisingly, you will most likely not be able to deliver this way”. 

 

I had hitherto been quite lukewarm about the idea of a homebirth – I liked it in principle, but I didn’t like my house (we hadn’t started doing it up yet) and crucially, I dared not imagine that I of all people could manage it.  After that first meeting, I started thinking that perhaps a homebirth was the only way I would give birth naturally. 

 

Meeting after meeting with midwives, consultants and doctors showed me that I was classed firmly as a ‘high risk’ patient, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to stand up for myself – in this, my wonderful midwives were amazing.  They came along for all the important appointments, and didn’t allow anyone to bully me.  They advocated for me calmly and knowledgeably, and I felt so proud to have them on my side.  I have a feeling they didn’t like the term, but I called them my ‘amazons’, and without their firm, protective presence, I’m sure I would have signed up for the elective c-section that the hospital desperately wanted me to have.

 

As the weeks passed by, I grew increasingly tired.  The effort of managing my diet so that my blood sugars never went above 7.5mmol/g made me quite stressed, and physically weak.  However, with the support and encouragement of my wonderful husband, Paul and midwives, I managed it.  I even negotiated Easter without eating a single chocolate egg!  Each time I wanted to eat something naughty, I told myself ‘Not if you want a natural birth’. 

 

One week, the baby decided to turn itself breech, which did nothing for my stress levels!  Once again, my ever-unflappable midwives told me not to worry – that if indeed baby was breech, there were things that could be done. 

 

My innate pessimism showing, I still dared not hope for a home birth.  The plan was to pack up my hospital bag, but also to get a basic birth pool for me to labour in until I decided I wanted to transfer into hospital.   We covered all bases, so that I had the ‘home birth bag’, as well as the hospital bag, and with everything packed and ready, and pool inflated, I waited. 

 

On the evening of Friday 20^th April, I was watching the late night repeat of Doctor Who, leaning over my gym ball (to get baby into optimal position!), and I felt those first unmistakable twinges – I felt calm, knowing that I could stay at home for as long as I wanted.  I went to sleep, and by Saturday morning, those twinges had turned into tightenings.  I got Paul to stick the TENS machine on, and I texted Rachel to tell her.  The pains continued through that day, and Sunday, and even by Monday, nothing was really happening.  I sent Paul into work, and conceded that perhaps Monday 23^rd April was not to be baby’s birthday.  But I was getting tired, and that night, my sleep was fitful and often interrupted by the tightenings. 

 

On Tuesday 24^th April, Rachel arranged to visit me to check that everything was ok (it was).  We agreed that as I was unwilling to be induced chemically, we would try all other options first, including a stretch and sweep, which she did for me on that visit.  I was already 3-4 cm dilated at that point, which really buoyed me up!  I had only reached 5cm during my first labour!

 

Within an hour of Rachel’s leaving, the pains started to get much worse.  This was where my 3 days of twinges became useful – I had been practising my pain management during this time, and had found some very good ways of working through the pain, including swaying, and changing positions.  I called my husband to come home from work, and once he got back, he inflated the pool, then started to get my daughter fed and ready for bed.  At this point, contractions were quite strong, but irregular – coming anything between 2 and 5 minutes apart.  I called Rachel to let her know that things were definitely starting, but that until the contractions became more regular, I didn’t feel there was any need for her to be with me.

 

At around 9.30pm, despite the fact that my contractions were still not completely regular, they were painful enough for me to call for Rachel to come over.  My husband filled the pool up and rubbed my back. 

 

As soon as Rachel came in, I felt calm and in control.  She conducted a quick VE, and established that I was 6cm dilated.  I heaved myself into the pool and the sense of relief that came with that is indescribable.  Suffice to say that my contractions actually slowed down considerably for a time!  In any case, they soon picked up again, and in the warmth of the pool and the sense of weightlessness that being underwater gave me, I was able to manage each contraction.  At times, it felt a bit like a really weird party – I’d be chatting with either Paul or Rachel – we had lovely soothing music on in the background, and it didn’t really feel like I was in labour.  I was coping so well, that Rachel even suggested that Paul take a quick nap to prepare himself for what was to come!

 

The labour progressed like this until about 4am, when I requested a VE to see how I was getting on.  To my utter disappointment, I had only dilated a further 2cm in the 5 hours that Rachel had been with me.  At that moment, my waters broke, and within half an hour, the contractions became much stronger – each one felt so ‘violent’ (the word I used at the time) and I felt like I was losing control.  My well-rehearsed pain management mechanisms were fast becoming obsolete in the face of these violent contractions.  Despite the strength and frequency of the contractions, I still felt no urge to push.  I sometimes imagined that I was, but nothing was really happening.

 

Vicky and Rachel must have realised that I wasn’t progressing as well as I could be, and asked me if I wanted to try and sit out of the pool for a bit.  I sat on the birth stool that they brought along, and within 3 minutes, I felt the intense urge to push.  I can’t describe this urge as anything other than completely primeval and instinctive.  I can remember feeling shaken at how intense the pushing urge was, but also feeling quite sure that my body knew what it was doing and that every contraction was bringing my baby closer to being born. 

 

Within 5 minutes, I was well and truly in the pushing stage, and with that, I felt that I didn’t have the strength to hold myself up anymore, and asked if I could rest on all fours.  Vicky and Rachel readily agreed, and kept encouraging me and reassuring me that I was safe – a big deal for me, as I had felt that things would go wrong at any moment while I was in hospital with my first. 

 

My poor husband had to endure my elbows digging into his thighs as I leant on him for support – he later said that it hurt lots, but (sensibly) didn’t think it wise to tell me that at the time!  At one point, he tried to remind me to breathe through the contraction, and tried to demonstrate for me.  I think I responded by telling him to ‘stop blowing in my face!!!’. 

 

At 6.10am, I got back into the pool.  I was really scared of having to endure more pain on ‘dry land’ so I was relieved to feel the water surround me again.  The water made it possible for me to work with the contraction, rather than just cope with it.  With each contraction, I harnessed every bit of strength I had to push as hard as I could.  It paid off, and at 6.20am, the head was born.  3 minutes later, the rest came out. 

 

I was the first person to cuddle my child.  I cannot stress how important this was to me.  No-one even knew the sex of my baby until I revealed that he was a boy, Gabriel Zia.  The cord was kept intact until it had stopped pulsating.  For 11 minutes, me and my son remained attached by the cord that had tied us together for 9 months.  Even if he went to live on the moon, in my mind, he will never be further than an umbilical cord’s length away from me. 

 

At 6.34, my husband cut the cord and got a cuddle of his son.  I was battling with the afterpains!  One of the things no-one ever tells you is that giving birth hurts, but the afterpains are pretty painful too!  I took some paracetamol, and lay down on some pillows Rachel and Vicky had set down on the floor, and waited for the placenta to come out.  The placenta was delivered naturally in about 20 minutes, and 2 minutes later, I was sat in my bed, feeding my beautiful boy. 

 

Gabriel’s birth was intense, exhilarating, overwhelming and emotional.  And I couldn’t have done it without the support and kindness of my wonderful midwives!