My Positive Induction into Childbirth

I love nothing than more than talking about childbirth. I want to know everything, including the gory details. I think childbirth is amazing, what our bodies can do is incredible! For this reason, I often find myself thinking about my own birth stories, and even more so at this time of year as with my son’s birthday right around the corner.

My first born, my baby boy is about turn to three. My pregnancy with him was pretty much text book, other than a couple of occurrences of RFM (reduced fetal movement) everything went really smoothly.

I was determined that I would go into labour naturally, that I wouldn’t have any kind of intervention, I would be giving birth in a pool, on my hands and knees and allowing my body to push the baby out when it was ready, with no pain relief. 

As my due date approached, I spent as much time as possible bouncing on a birth ball, drinking raspberry leaf tea, going for walks, doing yoga, you name it! Nothing happened; I didn’t even lose my mucus plug.

At 40 weeks I declined a membrane sweep, but we did opt to book an induction at 42 weeks. I did not want that induction. The issue is that you say induction and everyone else hears painful hormone drip, and starts telling horror stories. It strikes some kind of fear, and I did not want that kind of anxiety around when I brought my child into the world. 

At 41 weeks, I had to go to the hospital for a check up, just part of the process, and it was there we talked about the possibility of bringing the induction forward. I really didn’t want to, but the doctor vaguely explained that the longer I go over due, the higher the chances are of the baby becoming unwell, or having a still birth. He didn’t give me any statistics, or any further information, he just left us to make a decision. I still to this day don’t know how accurate this is, although I have since read that the placenta can stop working however. 

I was still at a loss of what to do, but I suddenly felt like I was being selfish. Was I putting my baby at risk? To this day, I don’t really know, but I do know I am happy that we made the choice we made.

After a quick internal exam, the midwife performed a sweep and told me I was 1cm dilated! It was pretty uncomfortable, but not too dissimilar to having a smear test done. Once she was satisfied that the baby was happy, she booked us in for the following afternoon, and sent us off in the hope that the sweep would make a difference! 

I tried to relax and prepare, but I was so nervous and the internet was not my friend. We told our parents and my sister, who was going to be my second birth partner and then tried to go about the rest of the day as though it were any other day. We even went food shopping the following morning! 

We were at the hospital for 5.00pm on the 13th of January, and after I was “checked in” (a health questionnaire and few checkups) I actually got to relax a little! I even had a surprisingly lovely three course meal! Then the real work started. 

What I didn’t know was that the process of being induced, much like pregnancy and birth, isn't always straight forward process and it can be done differently as well. For me, they had advised I would have a pessary placed behind my cervix. About six or so hours later, I would have an internal exam and depending on how far I had progressed, I would potentially have another. By morning, they would repeat the process however if I wasn't progressing, they would have to wait another 18 hours before giving me another pessary. If things were going well, they would look at breaking my waters.  

So, at about 6.00pm, they took me into a private room and examined me. I was 2 cm dilated, and they placed the pessary behind my cervix. Again, it was quite uncomfortable but not too different from the sweep. Once it was up there, I couldn't really feel it. Then, we walked. Keeping active and upright can really help encourage things in the right direction - gravity and all of that. We did laps of the hospital about five times in a row. At this point, I was having very mild, infrequent cramps.

From then on, it was basically a waiting game. Trying to relax and get some rest in a hospital is, as I am sure many of you know, a difficult thing to achieve. With my husband off home, I thought I would do some reading, and get ready for bed, get as much sleep as possible. Between the beeping, the regular check-ups and an unfortunate incident with the smoke alarm, I got very little sleep. I was on off and the monitor all night, checking the baby’s movement and heart rate, it was not relaxing. On top of that, I was having mild cramps, similar to period cramps, all night. At around 1am, I had another internal examination, and another pessary. I hadn’t progressed at all, but I tried not to think about that. 

Finally, morning came. They brought breakfast round - am I the only person who loves hospital tea and toast? - And as I was eating, I felt my first proper contraction. It was about 7.30am. Gradually, as the contractions got more painful, I buzzed for the midwife and told her what was happening. It was the worst time really, because the they were just doing the change over from night to day shift so no one was available to examine me, and despite the fact that I was pretty sure I was in labour, I still had to wait for the doctor.

By the time my husband arrived at around 9am, I was pacing the floor, and they were coming every 3 minutes, lasting about 40-50 seconds. He did his best to distract me, and tried to get someone to come and see to me, but he was just told I would be examined soon.

At about 10.00am, the midwife finally came along to take me to see the Doctor. By this stage, I would have to stop and really breathe through the pain, but I could walk and talk through it. I went back into the examination room, where the doctor had a good poke around – vastly more uncomfortable than the previous ones, but not as uncomfortable as I was going to become – and determined that my waters could be broken! So it was a quick trip back to the ward to collect my stuff - and my husband - and then off we went to the delivery room, where privacy and gas and air awaited!

My husband got a message to my sister and told her it was time to get up to the hospital. In the delivery suite, I met my lovely midwife, and she put me on the monitor again and we discussed my options. She went through my birth plan and she informed that I wouldn't be able to have use of the birth pool because of the pessaries. She explained that with regards to the hormone drip, they would see how well I progressed but if it was slow it would eventually be something that we would need to discuss. In the meantime, I planned to use the gas and air, and the birth ball.

My sister arrived, and at 10.45am they burst my waters. They lay me on the bed, and inserted something that looks similar to a knitting needle or a crochet hook, and used the little hook to nick the sac, and then I felt a warm gush flood the bed. It was a pretty small flood if I'm honest, but I had quite a small bump so I suppose that's why. With each contraction, the water just keeps coming out!  

After this, I managed my pain relief with gas and air, a TENNS machine and by keeping active by walking around and using the birth ball, which seemed to appear as if by magic.

The gas and air was quite an experience For me, it didn’t really ease the pain as much as it gave me something else to focus on, to the point where I didn’t want to stop using it until I was absolutely sure my contraction was calming down. I also had to be on and off the monitor, and while things are bit blurred for a while, I do remember that I went from talking and laughing at jokes, to not really being able to focus on anything but the contractions. 

Once they get going, they are really something! Mine were never massively far apart, and the more I progressed, the more intense they got.

At 12.30pm we noticed that the contractions were roughly 1 minute and 30 seconds apart, and they were becoming extremely painful. At 12.50pm, I was back on the bed being examined - this process becomes more difficult the further along you get, because the last thing you want to do during a contraction is lie still on a bed. My midwife could feel his head in my cervix, and I was 4 cm dilated. 4cm is what is classed as established labour, and I don’t really like that term because medically speaking, anything before that isn’t really recorded. She told me she would check me again in four hours. FOUR HOURS. I did not like the sound of that, but at least I was progressing.

On I went with my contractions, trying to keep calm and manage them as best as I could by keeping active, and using the gas and air. It was at this point that I started to really consider pain relief. I remember leaning against my sister, and crying. I was so torn. Each contraction felt like an earth quake inside of me, and they were becoming relentless. I knew that I wasn't doing myself any favours if I felt that I couldn't go on, but refused pain relief. All I was doing was exhausting myself. She hit the nail on the head really and said "If you knew how long you would be in labour for, the choice wouldn't be so hard, but because they can't tell you how long you will have to be in pain for, it’s frustrating."

With each contraction, I could now feel the baby bearing down, pressing against my bowel and making me feel like I might poo. I was told that this was normal, however I actually also felt as though my body was pushing. I wasn't actively doing this, and feel that this is an important distinction. With each contraction, I was now yelling into the gas and air, because my body was also pushing, but because I had only been 4 cm at my last check, I felt that this was wrong and so I didn't say anything. 

By 2.25pm, I needed to go back on the monitor again. She couldn’t get a good read on the baby, so suggested popping a clip on his head to see if they could pick him up that way. 

She set to, and after a moment, her head appeared over my legs. Another midwife had joined her – apparently it was quiet Sunday – and she looked at her and said something that didn’t quite register with me. My sister panicked, thinking she had said that I was still 4cm dilated, but what she had actually said was that I was 10cm and ready to go. I don’t know who was more surprised, but knowing what I know now, I had clearly been transitioning, and that was why everything felt so intense.  

Things started to happen very quickly from there on. The room filled with people - about 2 or 3 midwives, and the doctor that had examined me earlier - and by 2.40pm my legs were in the stirrups. It wasn't the position I had wanted to be in to give birth, but again it was happening so fast, and I sort felt like I wasn't really in control at this point.

With each contraction, I pushed. (I very quickly felt myself poo, and although my husband swears I didn’t, I know I did. Not shy on the details at all over here, it’s a fact of childbirth) At first, I was allowed to use the gas and air as normal, but as things progressed, I was told to stop this, and to take deep breath and hold it in with each push – advice I also know to be bad advice, it is much more productive to breath the baby out but hey, it got him out – with my chin pressed against chest. 

I was pushing with everything I had, I felt exhausted and I honestly thought he was never going to come out. It felt like he wasn't moving. I'm even sure that I heard the hint of an episiotomy but then, the doctor was telling me that he would be out in the next push, although it certainly didn't feel that way. I actually yelled at him "no he won't!" They told my husband to pull back on one of my thighs, and for me to do the same on the other, and I pushed.

Without even knowing what had happened, his head burst out of me - my sister described it like a splat, or a sort of explosion - and his body just sort of followed. I think as it happened, I actually went "oh!" like I was shocked, and my husband... well let's just say he had a few choice words, especially as he had always stated that he didn't want to be able to see anything happen.

And there he was, at 2.53pm weighing 6lb6. It took around 3-4 contractions, with about 2-3 pushes per contraction. He was placed - plonked - in my arms, all slippery and gooey, covered in blood and other gunk, and I just couldn't believe what I was looking at. 

After what felt like just moments to hold him and feel a sort of adrenaline induced numbness, I went to deliver the placenta. This can be done in two ways, and I opted to have managed third stage delivery, meaning that they would give me an injection to cause the placenta to come loose, and they would then be able to gently pull it out. I chose this because I didn't fancy another round of pushing so hard, I thought my eyes might burst. However, my placenta nearly split, and so she was unable to pull it out. I had to push, in the exact same way as I had to deliver the baby just moments earlier. It didn't take that long, but it was quite frustrating because unlike the baby, I couldn't really feel any progress. Once it came out, they carried it away - and it looked pretty gross, I'm not going to lie - and I actually have no idea what happened to it!

That concluded my labour. My established labour was 2 hours and 17 minutes, but I feel that I laboured in total for 7 hours and 23 minutes, which really isn't very long in comparison to many people.

Immediately following the delivery, they had to check to see how much damage was done. This in itself was awkward because not only was still holding the baby, but half of the bed had been lowered, my legs were still in stirrups and the last thing you want is a midwife poking around such a tender, sore area, but needs must! So they set to, and I tried to just focus on my tiny baby boy.

It turned out I had a second degree tear in my perineum, and a tear in my clitoral hood, which was a shock to the system, who knew that was possible? I needed stitches, but thankfully the surgeon was available and it was done in 20 uncomfortable minutes. 

Finally, they let me put my legs down! It felt good, but I was starting to feel very sore. The adrenaline was leaving me. There was some relief though, in the form of suppository pain killer which I would highly recommend. It lasted 12 hours and made life much easier.

Every time I moved, I felt a gush of blood but I was told that this was normal, and that it felt worse than what it was. I had only lost 450 ml of blood (no idea how they measure that, any ideas?) and yet I looked so pale!

My sister then left, and we got to spend some time alone with our little miracle. We dressed him - although all of his clothes were too big for him, and this would be an issue for some time - and they then came in and attempted to get him to latch onto my breast, but he was having none of it. Then they let me get a shower. I got quite a shock when I stood up because I was bleeding, and just sort of leaving a trail behind me, and even though I knew I was bleeding, I hadn't expected this to happen. I had a wee - they needed to measure my urine, and it was terrifying but I think the aforementioned painkiller really helped - and got in the shower, where I started to cry. I was so used to having my baby bump and suddenly, I just had a loose, saggy tummy. I felt lonely, and of course the hormones that run through you after giving birth can make any task a tearful one.

And then we began our lives as new parents. We stayed in the hospital for longer than anticipated due to feeding issues and jaundice but that is a whole other story. 

My birth story might seem a bit basic to some, and I hope it might help others. I hope that someone will read this, knowing that their birth can still be positive, even if they are being induce; that  doesn’t mean that something will go wrong, or it will lead to further intervention if they don’t want it. 

It so important to try to be as informed as possible going in, and that everyone is different, no two labours at the same. 

I have so much admiration for the women around me. Giving birth is the hardest thing I have ever done, it’s painful and physically exhausting, and then you have to recover with a baby who depends on you for everything. However you have your baby, well done, you are amazing.