The state of UK maternity services has been discussed so prevalently in the media as of late.
Much of the discourse is particularly terrifying, especially for expectant mothers who get unwittingly bombarded with it thanks to their Orwellian social media algorithm.
In a sea of negative stories about giving birth, once again I have the fortunate privilege of telling my own positive birth tale. I sincerely hope, in addition to my first post, this helps those expecting feel more confident and have a stronger mindset going into labour.
[Read: My Positive Birth Story]
My second labour
Despite being my second labour as opposed to my first, I still think reading and being presented with positive birth stories can truly influence your headspace surrounding the monumental experience for the better. Often birth doesn’t need to have been “perfect”, or even go according to plan, but it can still be seen as something to look back on proudly.
I reread the book which instilled my sense of confidence and agency surrounding my birth, Milli Hill’s The Positive Birth Book, which I would singularly recommend to every pregnant person.
Once again, I didn’t fear birth. Despite things going awry with my first birth with blood loss, I felt confident from the outset by knowing what to expect. This time, however, the only thing that differed for me was my concern around my firstborn not being able to see me for a while if I stayed in hospital, or worse still, the nasty intrusive thought that if anything were to happen to me, I wouldn’t see him again at all.
Despite this, overall my pregnancy was straightforward, I was on midwife care the entire nine months this time around, the common symptoms: nausea, restless legs, low blood sugar levels etc, but nothing too majorly debilitating. My baby boy was growing above average but not predicted to be ginormous, as so many babies are (wrongly) nowadays.
Still no baby
We hit the due date, and still no labour. My thought process was that second babies come earlier than the first (which was 41 weeks + 3 days), so I confidently decided it wouldn’t be long to go. More days passed. No baby. At this point I followed the same trajectory as I did previously and had my first cervical stretch and sweep procedure at the hospital.
The first stretch and sweep was fine, but didn’t induce labour for me. After a couple more days of occasional period-type cramps, I had my second stretch and sweep with my fantastically supportive community midwife. I was fortunate enough to see her throughout my firstborn pregnancy, as well as for my second baby.
This did the trick, and I had manageable early labour contractions for three days, using the TENS machine for pain relief and to build endorphins. At one point I thought it was all systems go, but then my body decided to slow back down and allowed me to have a (semi)good sleep to prepare for the birth ahead.
Eventually my contractions were close enough together. That, and with my firstborn needing to get to bed and have his routine with my parents on childminding duty, my husband and I decided to leave for the hospital.
Off to the hospital!
Arriving at the hospital at three centimetres dilated (not enough to stay on the labour ward), I proceeded to dilate from three to five centimetres on the antenatal ward overnight, somehow deliriously sleeping between contractions, then hypnobreathing my way through each one.
With only my TENS and a single codeine for pain relief, the contractions became too strong and I asked to be checked again.
At last, I was the obligatory five centimetres dilated and ready to be taken down to the labour ward. With contractions coming every thirty seconds or less, I hobbled to the delivery room. Fortunately for me, as they were very busy, I got the last labour suite on the ward.
It’s go time
I reached the edge of the bed and my waters instantly broke.
It was at this point when the midwife who came to my aid recognised my husband, and I recognised her name as being the student midwife who caught my first baby when he was born. In a wonderful twist of fate, the very same lovely midwife would now single handedly deliver my second born!
Anyway, where was I? I hadn’t experienced spontaneous rupturing of my amniotic sac with my first as it was broken by midwives when I reached nine centimetres. This time, as soon as that water flooded out, I knew it was time to push. I went from five centimetres to fully dilated straight away and clambered onto the bed, ready to get into the position which served me so well first time around: on my knees, holding onto the back of the upright bed, allowing gravity to do its work. I reached for the gas and air and gave myself some much wanted relief.
As I was fairly compos mentis this time, I remembered to try a tip from one of the doulas I saw on instagram. My goodness did it work a charm. I formed a fist with my hand, and when the contraction came, I blew really hard into it, as hard as I could, locking all the air in. By doing this very simple exercise size, I didn’t need to “think” about pushing my baby out: it did all the pelvic floor work for me. I didn’t even feel the “ring of fire” (like a urine infection sting) this time as my midwife put a warm compress on me.
My baby boy is here
Fifteen minutes later, and four contractions of pushing and breathing, he was here! Once I heard him cry, and I turned around, he was carefully placed on my chest, and I saw my new baby for the first time. I know you’re not meant to compare siblings, but my goodness did he look just the same as my firstborn boy.
My placenta came out quickly in one piece, once again with the injection. I did require stitches but my blood loss was minimal this time, so our midwife sorted these for me in the room: something I was very grateful for!
It was a calm and peaceful few hours, the lights were dim and I could just gaze at my second born boy and start feeding him. The tea and toast came, a right of passage which – yes – really is as good as everyone makes out, and I started to think that I’d really love a shower.
This was such a world away from my first experience where I was rushed to theatre and it took me ages to be able to do anything because of the blood loss, plus where I’d strained the muscle in my shoulder and couldn’t feel it or pick up my baby.
Standing up after birth is something people don’t generally tell you about, but as tip: take it slow! You have a great empty chasm in your belly, and all your organs which were squished up high now have room to spread out. I managed to hobble up out of bed and shower, but I did ache with the moving organs reorganising themselves. A good stretch, some painkillers and a sit down later I felt much better.
Discharged after four hours – a positive birth
As all was well, the midwives asked if I wanted an early discharge, I said yes and a couple of hours later I was clean, dressed, done my obligatory wee and on the way home!
It had been a long day, from giving birth in the early hours of the morning to getting home late morning, my husband and I were knackered. We both had a rest and then asked my parents to bring over our toddler to meet his baby brother. Something we agreed on was to keep the meeting neutral, so our newborn was lying in his Moses basket when our toddler came in. I gave him a huge hug and he was very curious to see the baby.
My second birth was drastically different from my first, in both time and my own health outcomes. It was probably more of the conventional positive birth, I trusted my body and that my baby knew when he was ready to come out. I feel very lucky to have had it.
So there you have it, I hope this positive birth story brings some lightness to those who are pregnant. All the best if you are expecting, trust your instincts and know you’ll have your beautiful baby in no time!
