I'm writing a guest blog for Accidental Hipster Mum this week about big baby births so possibly a little random but as everyone loves a good old birth story grab a wine, get comfy and have a read at how my youngest made his appearance. (Promise there's no gory bits. Sorry for those of you who like a bit of yukiness)
Bit of background. My first baby chilled for 9 months in a very large bump with no rush to join the outside world, arriving 10 days late. His birth was a little unusual. Fully dilated, ready to go the nurse looked shocked and announced there was a bottom where the head was supposed to be, yikes. Following an epidural and consultant led contractions I painlessly delivered a baby boy crown jewels first weighing 7lb 3oz.
Fast forward four years with a very very large bump. I was anticipating around the same weight, maybe slighty more but this time head first. I'd had additional growth scans as my first baby was classed as under weight for my height and weight. The scans showed normal growth, only the final one gave an indication the baby may be larger than my first. However, I was sceptical as with the assistance of google I had found numerous cases of growth scans indicating huge babies and that not being the case. That said my bump was massive and ridiculously heavy but I comforted myself with the fact it was probably lots of water surrounding a lovely petit 7lb baby.
|22 days before baby Ellis' arrival. Giant boob or tummy?|
As the pain progressed I upgraded to gas and air which I actually enjoyed. To start with I felt like I'd got a 4 can buzz on and happily inhaled, steadily and calmly controlling my pain. Towards the end I was sucking that hard I looked like a malfunctioning Dyson. During this I'd had more time to contemplate the final result so in between contractions I fired questions like a mad woman at the lovely midwife who looking back must have thought I was a complete maniac;
Me: Is it more efficient to give birth standing up? Midwife: Errrrr
Me: How will I know if I need more pain relief? I'm coping with the pain at the moment but what if it gets worse and then I can't. Should I have it now just in case? Midwife: You're doing fine
So standing up was my preferred position (surely gravity helps?!) As the midwife arranged sheets on the floor she nervously laughed that she'd never delivered this way before, but it was fine. I immediately had a vision appear of her laid underneath me waiting to catch the baby. I enquired if I should get on the bed and kneel up. At least the baby could then slip out on to the bed was my reckoning. Even though she said it was my choice I could see the look of relief on the her face. So I adopted the kneeling position but alas my contractions began to fade. No no no, I'm not going back to the bloody start. She suggested that I sit down and pull my knees up. Come on pain, lets be having ya. Brilliant they're back. At this point the midwife suggested that on my next contraction I push rather than use the gas and air. This panicked me. I liked the gas and air. I didn't like the thought of what a baby would feel like passing through my falula.
Me: How do I push? Midwife: Don't worry your body will know what to do.
The contraction came and I did a crappy little push that wasn't really a push. "Did you decide not to push on that one?" the midwife asked kindly but with a hint of sarcasm. I explained I was a little scared but rightly so the midwife explained that baby Beardsley was ready to make an appearance and if I didn't grow a pair there would be 'intervention'. On the next contraction I pushed, properly, which I'm not sure the midwife expected and Baby Ellis' head was free. Now the midwife wanted me to not push (make your mind up) but unfortunately this is when I experienced 'my body knowing what to do' and I had no say in the matter. Baby Ellis arrived with gusto in two pushes which impressively took less than 60 seconds at 1.27pm.
|Where the hell am I?|
|Much better newborn pic, awwww|