The birth of Charlotte Jean Bell

On the night of the 12^th of August, at 40 weeks plus 5 days, I was beginning to think our baby was never going to arrive.  Even though I knew that most first babies arrive late, and that I wasn’t even that overdue, I was starting to get a little worried.  I had been told by our midwife that if she hadn’t arrived by the 17^th, that I may have to be transferred to Dandenong Hospital, which I really did not want to happen.  I’d had no real signs that Baby Bell had any interest in coming ~ no show, no cramping, no big drop in my belly.  The only vague sign that he or she may be thinking about making an appearance was that things had been fairly quiet in utero for the past couple of days.  Throughout my entire pregnancy (from when I first felt solid movements at about 18 weeks) Baby Bell had been super active, all day, every day, so I was hoping that things would happen on their own.

I woke up at around 6am on Thursday the 13^th of August and went to the bathroom to find that I’d had a tiny bit of a show.  Hooray!  I went back to bed & then noticed that I was having some mild cramping, like period pains.  When Matthew left for work, I let him know what had happened, and that I was hoping that it meant that our baby may be making an appearance over the next couple of days.  I went back to sleep, and woke up again at about 8:15am.

I got up, had breakfast and started to go about my day.  Just after 8:30am, I noticed that my cramping was quite painful, quite frequent, that my belly was tightening with each “cramp” & that I actually had to stand still until the pain had subsided.  Not quite daring to believe it, I realised that I was in labour.   I called Matthew, and let him know that I didn’t think the cramping was actually cramping ~ that I was having contractions.  He asked if he should come home ~ I wasn’t sure at that stage, so I said I would call our midwife, Trish, and let her know what was happening & get back to him.  We were both a little shell-shocked at the realisation that things were underway ~ very much a cocktail of about 100 different emotions. 

I called Trish, but unfortunately she was on a day off, so I got her back-up, Heather.  I was gutted ~ we both loved Trish & felt very connected to her (even though we only started in her care at 34 weeks after our original midwife, Dawn, left for another position at another hospital).  I had never even laid eyes on Heather, and didn’t like the thought of going through labour & our baby being delivered by someone I had never met.  I told Heather what was going on & she asked me: How long were the contractions?  At that stage I had guesstimated about 30 seconds); How far apart were they?  Not very ~ I hadn’t timed them, but I wasn’t getting much done in between them, so again I guesstimated that they were only a few minutes apart); Had my waters broken? No.  She confirmed my suspicions … I was in labour!

I called Matthew again & let him know.  He asked if he should come home, but at that stage I figured that being my first baby, I would have some hours before I needed to go to the hospital.  I was strangely relaxed & ambivalent … “Oh, I don’t know.  If you like.  I’ll leave it up to you.”  It took him all of about 2 seconds to reply “I’m coming home.”  We heard later that someone from work had seen him leaving, and that he was almost running to the car!  Again, figuring that we would have hours, and that I would be in and out of the shower/bath whilst labouring at home, he picked up some hair dye from the shops on the way home & we were planning on hiding those pesky greys before heading to the hospital.  My greys are still there. ;)

Very early on in my pregnancy, I had decided that I wanted a drug free birth, and had done a lot of reading on pain management techniques (in particular Juju Sundin’s “Birth Skills”).  As the bath/shower had been my “happy place” throughout my pregnancy, and I frequently used them both to manage the pain in my lower back & groin, I decided to have a warm bath.  Especially in the last trimester & after I injured my groin, I spent a lot of time in the bath with Baby Bell, so in the back of my mind (in between the contractions!) I was savouring our last special bath together at home.  He/she was still moving around every now & then, so I also made sure to enjoy those last hours of movements of our precious little bundle in my belly.

Matthew arrived home just after 9:30am, and left his iPhone on the edge of the bath for me.  He had downloaded a “Labour Mate” application, which enabled me to time my contractions ~ hit once when a contraction started, and again when the contraction stopped.  It would then time the length & note the time in between contractions.  I’d noticed that by then the contractions were quite painful (the bath wasn’t doing a great deal to alleviate the pain), and was extremely surprised to discover that my contractions were between 45-65 seconds long, and between 2.5-3 minutes apart.  Now I had done my reading, and that was “Think about going to the hospital, woman!” timing.  I called Heather again to let her know & she said she would start heading to the hospital, and would be there in about half an hour.  She asked how close we were to the hospital (about 5 minutes) and to head in when I felt I needed to, sometime in the next couple of hours.  I sat in the bath for another couple of contractions, but decided that they were getting quite strong & painful, so made the decision to head in. 

I sat labouring in command central with Dibley (the cat) keeping me company while ordering (in the nicest possible way!) Matthew around to pack a few last minute things into my labour/hospital bags.  Being the organised person that I am, I had a spreadsheet of things that needed to go in.  Matthew helped me out of the bath & to get dressed & took a few photos (some choice expressions in those shots!).  I slowly made my way up to our bedroom & sat on the bed.  Matthew gave me my stress balls & I started squeezing them through the contractions.  Heather had told me to keep hydrated, so I drank some water, however that made me feel quite ill so I sent Matthew off to get a bucket.  I spent a minute or so dry-retching, but thankfully didn’t vomit.  During each contraction, Matthew would say “It’s time to go.” I would reply “After the next one.”  I was nervous ~ the contractions were painful, and I was beginning to worry how I would cope with this for what could be many hours.  Even though it wasn’t particularly rational, I think I believed that if I stayed at home, things would just stay as they were. Eventually he got me to the front doorstep.  I froze on the doorstep … taking that step out of the house was terrifying.  It was admitting that my beautiful, amazing pregnancy that I had loved so very much was ending.  I was so excited at the thought of finally meeting our son or daughter, but was also so reluctant to let go of that precious time that we’d spent together.  I closed my eyes, said a little goodbye and stepped over the threshold.

As I’d taken so long getting out the front door, I had another contraction leaning against the retaining wall in the front yard (thank goodness we built it!) and then slowly maneuvered myself into the car.  It was a very surreal feeling, leaving home and heading to the hospital.  I said to Matthew that this was it.  Our lives were about to change forever.  We were leaving as two, but would be returning as three.  I was so thankful that we lived so close to the hospital, and only had to endure one contraction in the car ~ I found the movement of the car on top of the contraction to be unbearable.  I almost had to get Matthew to pull over until the contraction had ended.  I really don’t know how women endure longer drives or peak hour traffic in labour.   I think it was around 10:45am when we arrived.

Matthew pulled up at the entrance so I could get out, and I made my way inside while he parked the car.  I had a contraction on the way to the front door, halfway to the elevator, in the elevator & on the way to the maternity ward.  I can’t actually remember at what point Matthew joined me, I was too focused on getting through the contractions and not bothering anyone in the hospital with too much noise.  I let the front desk know that I was in labour, and they directed me to a waiting room while they prepared a birthing suite.  One of the nurses placed a hand on my belly as I was going through a contraction and told me that the contractions were strong ~ I hoped that this was a good sign.  We sat in the waiting room, me giving my stress balls a workout.  The contractions were getting more intense, and I was getting impatient ~ they seemed to be taking an eternity to get the suite prepared, although in reality I have no idea how long it took.  All I knew was that my pain was getting worse, and I needed to start letting it out vocally, but didn’t want to make too much noise in the waiting room. 

Heather came up to us & introduced herself, and also let us know that Zoe (another midwife that I had met) had called Trish to let her know that I was in labour, and that Trish was coming in, as she didn’t want to miss the birth.  I could have cried.  I was absolutely thrilled that Trish was coming in, as I really wanted her there.

Finally the birthing suite was ready, so we made our way down.  We were in Room 13, on the 13^th of August ~ Matthew & I grinned and joked that it looked like 13 would be our new lucky number.  I lay on the bed on my side for a while, stress balls in hand.  I tried some of the other techniques I had read about :  I’d already discovered that walking wasn’t helping, as the contractions were too strong & leg movements weren’t doing anything.  Vocalisation & breathing were helping a little ~ once I was in that birthing suite & the door closed, I was a different woman.  I didn’t care what sounds came out of my mouth, or how loud they were.   Matthew kept reminding me to breathe through my contractions, in … out … in … out … as I was tending to hold my breath.  That helped ~ his calm, deep & familiar voice kept me centred, calm & focused.  I was on the bed for a while before I noticed that Trish had arrived & was preparing things.  I felt guilty that I hadn’t noticed her before, so after my next contraction, I thanked her for coming in on her day off. 

I discovered that banging my stress balls or hand against the bed head was a great distraction, the rhythmic movement & sound, coupled with the pain in my knuckles helped me get through the contractions.  Matthew placed his hand in between mine and the bed head so I wouldn’t hurt myself, but I needed to hear the banging, feel the pain somewhere other than around my belly.  They asked me to go and sit on the toilet, and placed a bowl under the seat (I think they wanted to test my urine), so Matthew & Trish helped me off the bed and to the bathroom.  At that point, the lunch trolley arrived, which Matthew helped himself to.  I had packed all manner of snacks into my labour bag, but the last thing I was interested in doing was eating.  I could barely manage a few sips of water from my pump bottle!

Matthew ate my lunch out in the main room while I sat in the bathroom, and Trish joked that they could tell when my contractions were about to start as they could hear my banging away on the wall with my stress balls.  She would come in for most contractions to remind me of my breathing.  I tried to go to the toilet, but couldn’t.  At 12:10pm, after a big contraction, I felt a huge gush of fluid & felt a sense of relief, and briefly thought I had done one hell of a wee!  A few seconds after I realised that my waters had broken.  I called out “Umm, I think my waters just broke.”, to which Matthew replied “I heard that!”  Trish was very impressed that I had so neatly broken my waters into their special bowl.  I noticed that they were brown ~ Baby Bell had passed meconium, which meant that I would need to be monitored to make sure that he/she wasn’t distressed.  It also meant that I wouldn’t be able to go into the bath, or have a water birth (which I was toying with).  At that stage, I thought that being monitored meant that I would have to be tethered to the bed from that point, so I was a little concerned about that.  It turned out that the monitors were waterproof, so Trish strapped one around my pelvis (to monitor how Baby Bell was doing) and another around the top of my belly (to monitor the contractions).  I got in the shower (sitting on a shower chair).  It was wonderful.  Matthew watched the monitors while he finished his lunch, and told me later on that Baby Bell’s heartrate stayed pretty constant the whole way through.  Matthew came in with me and held the shower head on my lower back.  I was having quite a bit of back pain, I had been using my heat pack, but sadly it fell in the loo after my waters had broken!  Farewell, trusty heat pack, you have served me well.  The hot water on my back was amazing.  In between contractions, he moved the water over my whole body so I wouldn’t get cold, but during the contractions I had to have the hot water directly on my lower back, and also needed Matthew to massage my lower back (how he managed to do both at the same time I will never know).  I kept on banging my stress balls against the shower wall, Matthew & Trish kept reminding me to breathe deeply, and the combination of that, with the hot water & massage was fantastic. 

At 1pm, Trish asked me to come back onto the bed so she could do an internal examination to see how far dilated I was.  I started to get a little worried, as although I was getting through each contraction with the pain management strategies I was implementing, they were extremely painful, increasing in intensity & I didn’t know how much longer I would be able to cope without drugs, even though I was adamant that I didn’t want any.  Again, being my first baby, I was sure that I wasn’t anywhere near the end, and that I would only be about 5cm dilated.  I almost cried when she told me I was 8 or 9cm dilated & that I was almost there.  I had made it to transition drug free!  I decided then that if I had made it that far, I could do it.  I asked half-heartedly twice for some gas during a couple of contractions after that, but I didn’t really want it.  I think I just wanted to ask for it (I can’t really explain it, I think it was almost a rite of passage ~ “Give me drugs!”).  Matthew & I had discussed a few weeks before that whatever I asked for, that unless I said my pre-arranged safety word I didn’t actually want them ~ so he knew I wasn’t serious.  Trish also knew that I didn’t want drugs, and said later that she waited for me to ask for the gas in between contractions, which never happened.

A few contractions after my internal, my body started pushing on its own.  I apologised as I thought it was the wrong thing to do, but Trish reassured me that my body was very clever (hooray!) and that I should just go with it.  Thus began the pushing stage of my labour!  She got me to move onto the toilet to get gravity to assist with Baby Bell moving down and opening my cervix that last 1-2cm.  I became like a cave woman.  I can’t believe the guttural sounds that came out of my mouth, it was almost primal.  My throat was quite sore for a couple of days afterwards!  Apparently I was completely zoned out in between pushing, which doesn’t surprise me, as the pushing stage seemed to fly past.  I kept thinking the whole time through my pushing stage of Juju Sundin and her coffee plunger imagery.  Trish had the big yellow dolphin torch out, and shone it at me during each push ~ it took me a little while to realise she was checking to see if I was crowning.  Presumably as it would be rather undignified to birth our baby on the loo, she asked me to move back onto the bed.  Trish had called Zoe in to assist as Baby Bell was close to arriving.   They had placed a beanbag on the bed so I could try going on all fours, but I found that excruciating, I couldn’t get comfortable and found the weight of my belly hanging down unbearable.  I had been dead against it, as I had read that I was more likely to tear this way, however I ended up on the bed, on my back as that was the only way I felt comfortable.  I was in a slightly odd position though, leaning slightly to the right, left leg bent up and right leg out like a frog on the bed.

Even though both Matthew & Trish had been reassuring me constantly throughout that I was doing a great job, I kept disagreeing.  I was utterly convinced that they were just humouring me, and that I was in fact doing a terrible job.  The contractions were painful, in particular once I had started pushing.  Although I hadn’t had any drugs, I was having difficulty getting through each one.  The distraction techniques weren’t distracting me from the pain as I had imagined they would.  I had asked for gas.  I was noisy.  I was so sure that I should be doing a much better job.  I guess in hindsight this was most likely the peak of the transition stage, where the self-doubt kicks in, the “I can’t do this” part of labour.  It doesn’t help that I always tend to think I am doing a much worse job than I actually am.

Not long after though, Baby Bell started crowning … oh boy, the burning pain.   But I was also getting so excited.  I was almost there.  I had made it this far, and we were so close to finally meeting our baby.  Although we had planned on Matthew assisting to deliver our baby, with two midwives down at the business end of things it would have been quite crowded, and in all honesty I needed Matthew up with me to literally hold my hand.  Trish told me that she could see the baby’s head ~ I couldn’t believe it.  At that point it seemed a little like a dream.  Our baby couldn’t really almost be here.  It couldn’t be happening.  Even though we had waited four years for our little one to be conceived, and I had gone through almost 41 weeks of pregnancy, it couldn’t be possible that we were about to meet our baby.  Even though I could feel the burning and knew what it meant, Trish had to be wrong.  It was paradoxically too quick, too sudden.  But Matthew confirmed that he could see our baby’s head (although he told me later that what he could see what a strange kind of lip ~ which he later worked out was the edge of the membranes from the sac ~ but just said he could see it so I didn’t get worried).  I kept asking the whole time if the baby was ok.  As more of the baby’s head started to appear, Matthew reached over and felt his or her head, and they asked if I would like to feel ~ I reached down & tried to feel our baby’s head, but in all honesty I couldn’t really tell what was me and what was baby.  Zoe then asked if I would like a mirror to see our baby’s head.  I thought it over for a little while, as I wasn’t sure if I could bear the sight of my lady parts being stretched to kingdom come!  I decided that I would like to see, but before I could let them know my decision, I birthed our baby’s head.  Trish announced that the head was out, and I looked down.  It was such a strange sight, to see my thighs with a little head poking out between them.  It was obviously covered in blood, but I could see a little bit of hair there as well.  Zoe asked if I could see it (Yep!) and said “Well, we don’t need the mirror any more!” 

The next few moments were extremely surreal, sitting there with the head out, and knowing that we were about to meet our son or daughter.  Trish explained to me what I would need to do during the next contraction ~ something about a big push, then no push, or little pushes, breathing, something or other … I found it very difficult to wrap my head around what I needed to do.  The next contraction came, and Trish & Matthew talked me through each step (looking back, I still can’t remember what I did, but I’m sure I did something I shouldn’t have, pushed when I should have breathed, or breathed when I should have pushed) as Trish & Zoe maneuvered our baby’s shoulders out.  After some wriggling, pushing, breathing & panting, I felt the most incredible sense of relief and achievement as I felt the rest of our baby slip out of my body.  Barely seconds seemed to pass and our baby was placed on my stomach. 

Our baby had arrived, after around 5 hours & 40 minutes of labour, at 2:12pm on Thursday the 13^th of August.

I was stunned, completely overwhelmed by what had just happened.  I had the most beautiful, warm, tiny, slippery little body in my arms.  I looked down as our baby gave one short cry, and then just serenely gazed up at me, and then had a look around.  It was almost as if he or she was thinking “Ok, that’s my Mummy, and this is where I am now.”  As I held our baby in my arms Trish clamped the umbilical cord, and gave Matthew the scissors to cut it.  We lay (me) and sat (him) there for a few moments, both just in awe.  Matthew had tears in his eyes, and we kissed.  Trish & Zoe gave us a gentle reminder to take a peek to see if we had a son or a daughter.  Matthew looked, and told me with tears in his eyes that we had a little girl.  I was completely shocked, I had been so utterly convinced since I was 11 weeks pregnant that we were having a boy.  I looked for myself (you know, just in case Matthew was suffering from temporary blindness!) but he was right ~ we had a beautiful daughter.  Although I had always imagined that I would have a boy, and was so absolutely certain that our baby was a boy, it took a millisecond before I couldn’t possibly imagine that our precious girl could possibly have been anything other than what she was.  Our tiny, beautiful, sweet, perfect little girl.

Trish asked us what her name was, and I answered … “Charlotte.”  We had decided on our names (both boy & girl) months before, and I couldn’t believe that what up until only minutes ago had just been a name, an idea, a possibility was now real, tangible, in my arms, and ours.

Within five minutes of being born, as I was lying there blissed out & gazing in awe of our little lady, she peed on me!  Matthew lifted up the towel & noted that she had also pooped on me.  Get used to it Mummy!

Trish gave me the injection to assist in delivering the placenta soon afterwards.  Once it had been delivered, Trish asked if we wanted to look at it.  I had always thought I wouldn’t want to, but I was fascinated.  I wanted to see what had nurtured & grown our little girl during my pregnancy.  I was amazed at how richly red it was.  It was beautiful ~ but not that beautiful that I wanted to take it home & plant it in the garden. ;)

Not long after, Trish assisted me in getting Charlotte on the breast for her first feed.  It didn’t take her too long to latch on ~ I had a feeling then & there that she would be a good feeder (she is Matthew’s daughter, after all!).  While she was feeding, I just stared at her, I couldn’t take my eyes off her.  I absolutely relished the feeling of her tiny, warm body in my arms, her little mouth on my breast, with her wee hand resting on my breast next to her head.  I kept sneaking a peek under the towel to look at her perfect little body, and started wondering about her details ~ how heavy, how long, head circumference.  Having had gestational diabetes, and also being almost a week overdue, I had been worried that she was going to be on the bigger side, but she seemed so petite ~ beautiful long linbs, fingers & toes, but very slim.  She certainly didn’t feel big.  But I wasn’t ready to give her up to find out those details yet.  I had waited this long, I could keep waiting for a while.

I asked Trish & Zoe if I had torn, to which they replied “Ahh, yes.”  It turns out Charlotte had come out with her hand against her head (just like in all of her scans) and I had torn almost all the way down.  Trish & Zoe both said that they weren’t comfortable doing the stitching, and that due to the nature of the tear (it was quite crooked) that I may have to go down to theatre and have a spinal block to be stitched up.  I couldn’t believe it, after going through my labour drug free, the thought of having to be numbed from the waist down, and separated from my baby was very upsetting.  I asked Matthew if he would stay with Charlotte, as I didn’t want her to be separated from both of us.  In the end, thankfully a wonderful brave OB came & did the stitching.  I gave Charlotte to Matthew while it was being done, so he could have his first cuddle (after no crying since her first single cry when she arrived, she screamed her little lungs out as soon as she was separated from me). 

After Daddy’s first cuddle, he took her over to be weighed and measured.  Our little girl weighed 3260g (7lb 3oz), was 51cm long & had a head circumference of 34cm.  I was right ~ she was a wee little thing after all.  Her Apgar scores were both 9, and her blood sugar levels were perfect.

The local anaesthetic for the stitches stung quite badly ~ I found it odd that I still found it painful given the level of pain I had just endured! 

Matthew & Trish got Charlotte dressed while the OB was stitching me up.  I’ll never forget how tiny she looked lying against Matthew’s chest in her little white Wondersuit & hat, and how immensely proud he looked.  An enormous sense of pride kicked in right then ~ we had done it.  We had endured four long years of heartache to conceive, I had carried, grown & nurtured our daughter for almost 41 weeks in my belly, I had stayed strong & had the drug free labour that I wanted, and I had safely delivered our beautiful daughter into the world. 

She was here.  She was finally here.  Made from every appointment, every test, every tablet, every injection, every tear, every heartbreaking moment over our four year journey.   Our long awaited, and so very, very loved daughter, Charlotte Jean.