Adam's Birth Story, Part I

Disclaimer: I won't try to deny it. This is a birth story, there will be talk of things some people find disgusting, even unmentionable. You are free to read on, or you are free to close the window now. It's your choice and I take no responsibility for it!

The morning of Wednesday 20th March, I woke up in an excellent mood. That was the day I should have been going under the knife in a planned c-section had my original gynae had her way. I had escaped it and I felt supported by so many friends, family members and medics alike, and finally I even felt confident again that my body could do the job it was designed to do. I was having an "I am woman, hear me roar" day. To top it off, I had even had a good night's sleep, only having woken once to use the loo (as opposed to the three and sometimes even four times of more recent nights).

I then went to the bathroom before breakfast and realised I'd had a show, and there was fresh blood. I took this as a good sign. Emily's show involved old blood and she was born a week later. Considering my cervix was already well on its way to being fully effaced the Saturday before (when my midwife told me she didn't quite think I'd make it until my appointment on the 23rd), I took it as a sign that things were happening. I even told David to ensure he'd handed things over at work, just in case.

See, 21st March was my gut feeling day. I'd even noted it in the due date sweepstakes a few weeks before. My mother also had a feeling it would be that day, and when her work got cancelled for the rest of March a few days earlier, thus freeing her schedule completely, our gut feeling grew substantially. Sometimes the universe just knows.

Emily and I had an excellent day that day, just chilling out and having fun. There were no arguments, just fun times. I fell asleep in the afternoon and she let me sleep well beyond her own nap time. She waited for me, reading in her dark room, and then greeted me with a big hug and a kiss. It was the perfect day, and all the more perfect - unbeknownst to us - because it was the last day we'd spend together as just us girls.

I reinforced what we'd already been telling her for several weeks throughout the day: "Soon, it will be time for Adam to come out of Mummy's tummy, so Mummy and Daddy will go to the doctor and Emily will have fun with Nannu and Nanna." It was language she understood, having explained it to us in those (almost exact) words herself. We didn't dare drift too far from what she understood, and it paid off. She'd then carry on and excitedly tell me about how we'd put him in his little cot, and especially about how he would be bringing her a present.

David got home and we bathed her and read her favourite book, The Tiger Who Came to Tea, and put her to bed, all the while very much aware we may not be there to do so the next day. I'd been having very particular cramping throughout the day, and a few very strong Braxton Hicks (although no regularity whatsoever), and the bleeding continued.

We then chilled out and watched the last few episodes of Mr Selfridge and then remembered it was Grey's Anatomy night so we watched that too. We went to bed at midnight (in hindsight, not the smartest of moves), and on my way, as usual, I stopped by Emily's room where I completely lost my cool and started crying. On some level, I knew she wouldn't be my only baby after that night and my heart broke a little bit. I was grateful for the fun day we'd had together, but I was worried about her reaction, and worried that she may be upset when she didn't find us there in the morning. I shrugged it off, gave her a quiet kiss, and went to bed.

[Read Part II]

Then There Were Four

It turned out I didn't have too long to wait. I'll go into detail when I write up his birth story, but for now, suffice it to say that Adam arrived ten days early on Thursday 21st March 2013 at 8:58am, weighing 3.4kg / 7lbs 5oz. It was the natural birth I had fought for.

Emily has met him and is as much in love with him as we are. And if I was ever concerned about not bonding with him, I needn't have worried. It all fell into place within seconds of his birth and all I want to do is hold and cuddle him.

Welcome to the world, little man :)

[Read Adam's Birth Story here]

Recently

Once Again, Emily's Room

Less than a year after I showed you her last new room, and for what will not be the final time (we move again later on this year), here is Emily's new room. She loves it. It is the first time we've been able to spend hours playing in a room of hers. I read in the armchair while she colours, or we play together. She will sometimes stop and look around her and exclaim with glee, "My room!" Yup, she likes it here.

As this is a rented apartment, we have not painted the walls or hung up all her wall decorations, but they are being saved for her next room, which is approximately the same size. I do miss her pink walls though!

Behind the Scenes - The Ongoing Battle

There's a lot I haven't said over the past few weeks. I can't and won't keep quiet any longer. Here goes. 

When I was an Emma's Diary blogger for a short time, one of my posts focused on the excellent maternity care I experienced at Medway Maritime Hospital in Kent. Here is part of that post.

Dear Midwives,

A short thank you note. For listening to my every request (coherent or otherwise). For taking the time to read through every word of my birth plan and discussing points you were unsure of with me. For offering advice, but not forcing it upon me. For speaking to me calmly and encouragingly. For our chats and jokes between contractions. For always being there and for explaining every little thing that was happening. For never letting me feel scared. For trying your very (very) best to honour my every request. For your caring, calming, smiling faces.

For my toast and tea once Emily was born. Nothing has ever tasted so yummy.

Sincerely,
Clare

[Full post here]

Reading that back right now has me in tears. It's nothing to do with hormones, sadly. And they're certainly not happy tears. My situation at the moment couldn't be more different...

This time, in Malta, I am dealing with a gynaecologist, not a midwife.

This time, my sheer mention of a birth plan has been smirked at. "Rip it up," I was told.

This time, I am fighting to be allowed the chance to labour naturally. Excuse after excuse has been crafted to push me into having a c-section. And when that failed, more reasons found, this time to attempt to convince me an induction would be needed. All still hypothetical of course but not exactly the start you want. (The first time my gynaecologist talked to me about the non-surgical childbirth procedure at the local hospital was yesterday, at my 36 week appointment - because I specifically asked her for details.)

Last time, I was relaxed and focused on what was about to come. This time, I am fighting what feels like an often losing battle simply to give me the chance to labour without unnecessary intervention.

Medicine is an amazing thing - but to support, and not replace, nature.

Sadly it seems that here in Malta childbirth has been turned into a production line, with surgeons waiting, scalpel in hand, for any little reason they can find to cut. I've spoken to so many woman over the past few weeks who have been pushed into c-sections for very vague (and sometimes unknown) reasons. It's shocking. Childbirth and nature are a beautiful thing, and so many women here are denied the chance to ever experience it.

These last couple of weeks, I have felt like a helpless, caged animal. I am full of despair and very much saddened. And the worst part is that because of everything they've tried to convince me will go wrong, it has begun to affect my confidence in my body's ability to do what it was made to do. Don't get me wrong - I'm not trying to be irresponsible. I am in no way trying to put my life and that of my son at risk. Should intervention be necessary, I will welcome it. But I want to know that the people making the decisions can be trusted not to be too scalpel-happy. I need to feel like I am in safe hands, which I currently don't. And to be told that intervention will happen regardless... that just doesn't sit right with me.

And to those who will still try and convince me that it doesn't matter, that all that matters is that me and my baby are safe (which is of course of utmost importance too, but still no reason to override nature for absolutely no reason), I only recommend that you read this: The Pot Plant Analogy

And if you want to argue that I am hallucinating or paranoid (as my gynae tried to do), remember that the C-Section rate in Malta in 2011 was 32.3% of births, and currently the highest rate of inductions in the EU. And here's some more light reading: 
Malta almost sees pregnancy as an illness (MaltaToday, 2012)
Induced births and high rate of births by Caesarean section (Times of Malta, 2011)
Malta's C-Section rate needs to be halved  (The Independent, 2009)

I should be able to be focusing on Emily during these last few weeks, enjoying our time alone - just me and her for the last time. Instead my every waking moment seems to be filled with research to find the information I need - information my gynae has warped, seemingly to support a different agenda.

Why was I told my placenta was low lying when it wasn't? 
Why have I been told I have an average amount of amniotic fluid, only to be told in the same breath that I'm carrying too much fluid?
Why am I being told that the baby not yet being engaged is a problem? Second and subsequent babies very rarely engage before labour begins.
Why am I being told I need to head to hospital at the first sign of labour and not be allowed to labour at home? The more time spent labouring in hospital increases the risk of intervention being necessary.

I've done the research, I'm no fool. I know this is all wrong! Why am I being treated like an idiot and told off for being informed? Why am I paying a gynaecologist to misinform, confuse, and upset me? My instincts scream bloody murder every time I think of all this.

So at this late stage in my pregnancy, we are looking into our options. As quickly as we possibly can. And there aren't very many options here in Malta. But we're trying. We have to. I will not sit back and take it. That's what created this mess in the first place.

And all the while, all I can think of is that brand spanking new midwife-led unit at Medway Maritime.... and the tears return. I shouldn't need to fight this battle, not at this late stage in the pregnancy, not at all, not when I had a perfectly normal delivery last time. I have to win this war. 

___________________________________
UPDATE, 08/03/2013
This morning I met a doctor who hugely supports natural birth. He rescanned me and could see no problem whatsoever with letting labour progress naturally. My placenta is very high and thus completely out of the way, the amount of amniotic fluid is perfectly normal, baby is in the position he needs to be and thriving. He also confirmed that engagement generally happens during labour with second babies onwards. We spoke the same language and were looking at things through the same lens. I will be continuing under his care and am now very excited about it all. 

I'll be clear - I am not saying that my previous gynae is a bad person. She probably has orders from above which she needs to follow. However, I firmly believe that patient and doctor need to be on more or less the same page about the way things are done in order for a patient to feel safe. I certainly believe that a patient should not be ridiculed or belittled for having certain opinions. A relationship like that will never work, in whatever scenario. 

So I'm glad I fought. I'm glad I found people to support me and give me the chance to have a second natural birth. They know who they are and I cannot ever begin to thank them enough. They have kept me sane throughout this. And Emily... well, I realised today just how awful I've been lately. Today I feel like a new person, on a new lease of life, and my relationship with her has already seen the benefits. Here's to the next few weeks until Baby A chooses to arrive, as naturally as possible.

I sit here writing this with a big smile on my face, celebrating with a piece of chocolate, while Baby A bounces with hiccups.