At 39 weeks 3 days I had had enough. I was over the reflux, I was over the weight, I was over the insomnia and I was over the false alarms. At 39 weeks 3 days I decided that a few old wives tales couldn't hurt, my mum was down visiting so I took the opportunity to make plans with Simon to go out to dinner and follow it with a movie (much like we had the night we went into labour with Cooper) - I knew it was a long shot, but it was worth a try, after all it had worked once before. We dined on Indian, the hot variety, and saw the latest Tom Cruise movie (Oblivion) ~ I don't much like Tom Cruise post Mission Impossible days, and to be honest this movie was about as good as Vanilla Sky.... I don't recommend it, but I digress. Unlike that night during my pregnancy with Cooper I did not go into labour immediately after settling into bed for the night, in fact I actually managed my first uninterrupted nights sleep in what seemed an eternity.
The next morning, the 24th of April 2013, at around 5am I woke when Simon got up to get ready for work and felt a bit off (I assumed it was the Indian food). I got up, went to the bathroom and cozied back up in bed. It was then that the cramping began and I cursed what I was convinced was going to be another false alarm. At 7am I got up and started my day as usual, it was a Wednesday which meant Cooper needed to go to day care and I had the day to myself. My mum had organised a lunch with my soon to be sister in law (who is also expecting - just a few weeks behind me) and I had decided to tag along. The cramps had persisted through the morning, just as mild period like pain and I thought that embarking on a walk may do one of two things: 1) it would establish the labour or 2) it would cause the cramps to stop. So my mum, future sister in law and I walked about 3 kilometres to a little cafe for lunch. By the time we'd reached the cafe the cramps were more intense and I suffered in silence through lunch. When mum suggested we then quickly duck into the shopping complex across the road I knew I was in trouble, my mum never "ducks quickly" into shopping malls and we still had to walk back home.
Ironically we were in 'Babies R Us' when the contractions got so intense I could no longer mask them as a simple pregnancy discomfort, I started swaying, and in a mother knows all fashion, my mum declared I was in labour and insisted I call Simon to collect me. As I hurried out of the shop, everyone else had decided I was in labour also rushing to my assistance. I got into the car and quickly made myself comfortable at home. Still not convinced entirely that this was the real deal I called my hospital and asked them if I could come in to be assessed.
We arrived at the hospital at 2pm, I was seen immediately and at -2 station and 3cm with contractions 7 mins apart sent home. Mum was at home when we got back and I decided that if in fact today was the day I should probably clean myself up a bit. I showered, shaved my legs un-coordinately, washed my hair and why I still don't know, but I then proceeded to put on a full face of make up. I then sat in my bedroom rocking on a fit ball with my Ipod playing in a bid to feel more comfortable and distract me from the pain as I timed the contractions, now 5mins apart last for about 30-40 seconds.
It was now, for some idiotic reason I told Simon he should go and pick Cooper up from day care. It was a stupid thing to do, especially given both my brother, his fiance and my mum were all capable of doing it. In the 40 mins my dear husband was gone, my contractions went through the roof, I was no longer able to talk through them, I couldn't walk them off and I was desperately ringing Simon unsuccessfully to get home as soon as possible. I then called my mid wife and told her we were headed in.
We arrived at the hospital at 5:30pm, my mid wife was already there and waiting. They showed me to my room and I got comfortable kneeling over the bed and having Simon massage my back. The attending mid wife them came in and took some vitals and asked if I wanted to be checked for progress, to which I declined. After the length of Coopers labour I didn't want to be disheartened by hearing I was only at a measly 4cm.
It was 6:15pm when I requested the fit ball and the shower. It's the strangest thing - throughout my 38 and a half weeks pregnancy I knew the time would come for my mid wife to see me at least semi naked (I mean for goodness sake she was going to deliver my daughter and there's only 1 way she was entering the world!) but in some weird modest way it felt extremely odd to strip down, 100% exposed and have her hold the shower head over my lower back and rub it as she did it.... eventually though the relief from the warm water was so great that I no longer cared at all. She encouraged me to breath through each contraction and I stayed under the shower for a little over an hour before I felt this sudden shift in pressure and pain. It was at this point I really wanted the epidural, but my mid wife stayed firm and encouraged me to keep going, insisting that this was the birth I had wanted and that I could do it.
I was then checked for progress at 7:40pm, I was at 7cm and heading into transition - I realised even if I had wanted the epi, it was now too late and I was on my own. I headed back to the shower and within a mere 10 contractions my waters broke, 3 contractions later I was calling to the midwife "she's coming" while grimacing through the pain. I was shaking, my body was convulsing with each contraction and I had no control over needing to push. My mid wife got the attending nurse who insisted she was not coming, but rather my membranes were rupturing, I told her repeatedly that she was coming and that my membranes had already ruptured in the shower (when I talk to new mums to be, and they ask how do you know when to push..... to that I say if you "think"you have to push.... YOU DON'T, which is where I went wrong with Coopers birth. Truth is when you HAVE to push you have no control, in fact not pushing is not an option, so to the midwife who was so calmly claiming it was not in fact time to push, I say pish posh!). I insisted I be moved to the bed. It didn't take long before I was kneeling on the bed and pushing through each contraction, in fact I only just scrambled onto the bed before pushing her pink, wet, crying, perfect little body into the world at 8.07pm. I don't remember the intense pain of her crowning in comparison to Cooper, but her measurements for head circumference we identical, yet she was 500 grams lighter and 5 cm shorter in length. I was in love all over again as I pulled her between my legs and onto my chest. Words cannot describe her, she is my personal piece of perfect.
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| Zoe Deborah Ann Rushby - a mere few minutes old |
