Well it was Tuesday the 19th of April at 3.30pm and we had our 41 week appointment with Karen, our midwife. Dave and I were both to the point of waking up each morning and looking at each other with disappointment – another night had come and gone and still no sign of any baby arriving. We were excited, eager…….and anxious. And I was beginning to suspect that my anxiety levels were not going to help with starting the process of labour. I had told myself (and Dave) that we weren’t going to focus on the expected due date too much – but that’s easier said than done. By 39 weeks I’d had enough of being pregnant so when that 40 week mark came and went I was disappointed to say the least. By 41 weeks I was beside myself.
We met with Karen to discuss being induced the following week if I still hadn’t gone into labour. We set Anzac Day as the day I would arrive to be induced – and I hoped with all my heart that it wouldn’t come to that – more than anything I was scared of being induced, as I didn’t have faith that I could cope with the pain if it started too suddenly. I raised the possibility of having a ‘stretch and strip’ – that charming term coined to describe having the cervical membranes swept. Karen said she’d do an internal and see how things were progressing. I can’t think of a time usually when one would look forward to an internal – but in this case I did!!
During the internal, Karen informed Dave and I that I was already 3cms dilated (woohoo) and my cervix was long and thin (hmmmm) – I figured this was good news – and she helped things along by sweeping the membranes (do you have a visual here of my midwife and a broom..... it wasn't like that honestly though it felt like it!!). Not the most comfortable feeling in the world, but at least I felt like something was happening. Karen predicted that we would not see the rest of the week out before I went into labour – what a wonderful prediction to our ears!!
So we headed home, grabbed takeout for dinner (fish and chips even though it wasn't Friday, but we're allowed to do that as we're not catholic. i guess in theory the catholics can have fish and chips any day they want too.... hmmmmm). Anyway, I digress - we grabbed takeout and settled in for a night in front of the television. I was feeling quite ‘crampy’ but put it down to the fact that I’d had an internal and didn’t think much of it (but was also secretly wondering whether this could be the start of it!!).
I headed for bed at a reasonable hour – exhausted as usual. I mean I was after all the size of a flipping elephant by this stage. At 2.30am I awoke to the shocking thought that I had just wet the bed!!! I clenched my pelvic floor – to no avail – and then quickly realisation dawned that this must be waters breaking. How exciting (an yet kind of icky too - Dave was pleased he'd put towels under our sheet!!!!) I went to check things out in the bathroom, discovered no signs that anything was wrong and stood there debating whether or not to call Karen. Now I had been told numerous times that I was to call when my waters broke BUT it was 2.30am – and the waters were clear – surely I didn’t have to wake Karen….. did I? But commonsense prevailed and I called the hospital to get Karen paged (actually, it was less 'common sense' and more being worried about getting into trouble for not calling - one would think at the age of 31 I would be over being worried about being scolded but hey). Ten minutes later she returned my call and I briefed her on the situation. She asked if any contractions had started and I realised they hadn’t and told her so. She said that was fine, to try and catch some sleep and we’d touch base in the morning – she’d be at the Birth Centre for her shift at 7am. Trying to curb my excitement I went back to bed – determined to stay calm, get some sleep – and most of all, not wake Dave until absolutely necessary as I knew he’d be so excited (read: anxious) NO-ONE would get any rest!! :o)
However, 15 minutes after getting into bed and getting comfortable, contractions began. Nothing more than a dull period-like pain (sorry for all the men reading this who can't relate to that but whatever) but I knew that this was the beginning. At 3am after a couple of contractions, I realised that I should probably let Dave know as despite days of suggesting he pack for the hospital, I knew he hadn’t so thought I should give him some warning!! Now, Dave is a rather heavy sleeper but nothing will wake a father-to-be faster than his 41-week pregnant wife leaning over and whispering “are you ready to meet your daughter today?” mwa ha ha (evil laugh) He came awake so suddenly it made me laugh – and was he excited!! The light was on and he was packing to go!!! Meanwhile I decide to eat some cereal in case I was in too much pain by breakfast – plus a 3am snack was usual for me as I’d been so hungry during the last few weeks of pregnancy!! I finished my weet-bix to find Dave hauling on his shorts and a t-shirt. I asked him what he was doing and that it was better if we both just went back to bed now we were all organised – that the contractions were still just niggly pains and it could be hours yet. So he got undressed again and lay back down and we turned off the light and tried to get some sleep. Again it was just as I was starting to calm down that I became a little uncomfortable and decide to get up and jump in shower. I didn’t have a watch or a clock with me, but the back pains seemed to be coming quite regularly, about 4-5 minutes apart – but they were still incredibly manageable so I was not sure of what was going on. I had it in my head that once contractions were this regular that I would be in excruciating pain.
I was very aware at this point that my other support person, Sharon, a very close girlfriend probably needed some warning as she had 2 children of her own to get organised if she had to meet me at the hospital. So at 4am, feeling awful for waking another person in the middle of the night, I called her. After telling her that contractions were really regular and close together but really manageable, – she said it could be hours yet but call Karen if I was concerned. I told her I wasn’t concerned I just wanted to let her know that she should probably get the kids to her mother-in-laws in the morning and be prepared to come to the hospital instead of going to work. I hung up and jumped straight back in the shower.
All thoughts of listening to music while leaning over my Swiss Ball went out the window – all I could think about was being under the hot jet of the shower. By this stage, the pain was becoming a little more intense and I found myself moaning through each wave of pain and focussing on my voice instead of the pain. I had the water jet so hot my skin was bright red but I didn’t care – it relieved the pain and the thought of getting out of the shower was unbearable. But I realised that I needed to know just how fast these contractions were coming so after one I quickly jumped out of the shower, ran dripping wet to the bedroom, poked Dave while suggesting (quite forcibly I might add!) that he ‘get up and time these bloody contractions!!’ Poor thing…
I made it back to the shower in time for the next contraction. I yelled out to Dave as each contraction started and stopped so that he could work out how long they were, and how regularly they were coming. The pain was still very bearable but I definitely needed to focus on each contraction. I have only vague recollections of Dave suggesting the water was too hot (I am NOT turning the heat down) and asking how close the contractions were before he was meant to call Karen (I think in all the excitement he just totally forgot!!). Dave said to me that the contractions have been regular (3min) for the last 20 minutes or so (no idea where the time went)…. I tell him to page Karen. After checking I’d be okay, Dave goes to throw all of our things in the car. After not hearing from Karen we suspect the switch never paged her so Dave tries again….
At 5.20am Karen gets back to us, hears my response to a contraction (think panting, moaning and yelling all at once) and says she’ll meet us at the hospital at 6am (in hindsight I can only thank god that it was not peak hour traffic time!!!). At 5.45am Dave comes in mid-contraction and tells me it’s time to go. I suggest through gritted teeth that there is no way I'm getting out of the shower. Not sure Dave knew what to do at that point - he gently suggested that I had to get out (there was a pleading in his voice at this stage). I wait for another lull in the contractions and step out of the shower while Dave starts drying me off - I had no concept of being able to do anything at this stage except focus on my breathing so there I stood like a 5 year old being dressed by someone else....shorts on... contraction...shirt on...contraction ... make it to the lounge... contraction...hop in the back seat of the car so I can lean over the back seat and Dave takes off... For the most part I can't remember the trip to the hospital - I didn't know spatially where we were at any point during the ride - but I distinctly remember a 4-wheel drive following us for a large portion of the trip with his bloody headlights shining through the back window of our wagon. I can only imagine what they thought when they saw this woman hanging over the back seat, dry reaching into a bucket, gritting her teeth and yelling every 3 minutes or so.....(have you got the visual??)
We make it to the hospital about 6am. There were multiple stops between the car and the birth centre - there was NO way I could move during a contraction. One knows however that one is not in enough pain if you can still be embarrassed about having a contraction in front of all the smokers sitting outside the public hospital!! I made Dave stand in front of me and hug me so it wasn't so obvious - though I'm sure I fooled no-one....
We met Sharon (my other support partner) and Karen the midwife outside the birth centre and once there I strip off and head straight for the shower. I've never been overly conservative when it comes to nudity but let me tell you - any semblance of modesty goes out the door when you're in labour. I'm not even sure I actually made it IN to my birth suite - it's quite possible that the cleaner who was mopping the floors outside the birthing rooms got quite an eyeful that morning - I really didn't care.
I won't bore you all with the details of the next hour. There was showering. Dave and Sharon discussed that morning's events (Pope Benedictine XVI had just been elected to the Vatican) and I believe at some point they discussed the fact that it was Hitler's birthday. The fact that our daughter was about to be born on that dictator's birthday is a fact that I could have done without ..... but nevertheless.
Finally I get to start pushing. Amazing. Wonderful. Exhilirating. I reach down and feel my daughter's head emerging... and before you know it (only a mere hour after arriving at the hospital) Charlotte Rose was born. 3.86kgs (or 8lb 8oz for you old schoolers) and 55cms long - she's going to be tall like her daddy. Here she is in all her goopy glory. We call her Monkey....
Anyway, that's the story of Charli Rose's birth. It's hard to sum it all up in such a short time (yes, that was a shortened version)... and nothing really will ever capture the wonder that was that morning.... 7.17am on the 20th April 2005 will always hold a special place in our hearts. Monkey, we love you.
