Birth Story
03 March 2008
‘This is not a Story, This is not a Book, This is your Life’ - Banderas, ‘This is Your Life’, 1991
A week into Alice’s birth and I’m just getting around to actually attempting to gather my thoughts and getting something down that explains how she entered the world. So, here goes…
Len’s contractions started at approximately 3.00am on Sunday morning (24/02). Comparably small at first she decided to tough it out and disappeared downstairs with a pillow, quilt and Australia versus India on Sky Sports. I meanwhile slept like the proverbial (and impending) Baby whilst Ricky Ponting and Brett Lee (her personal favourite) got her through the initial stages of labour.
At 7.30am the Aussie’s went for tea and the second team (i.e. Me) was called into action. My duties and responsibilities? To help my wife through the most painful and emotional time of her life (QPR Playoff Final loss notwithstanding). I started by attatching her to a Transcutaneous Electrical Nerve Stimulator Machine (that’s a TENS Machine for those of you not familiar with passing an Electric Current through your body to alleviate pain!), making her some breakfast, bringing the birthing ball upstairs to the bedroom and noting the gaps between her contractions. Starting at an earth shattering 9 minutes apart they began to lengthen like a Horse going out of favour in the betting market and went out to twenty’s before rapidly topping the stakes at a constant four and five minutes apart.
At 3.00pm (or for those of us keeping an eye on the Carling Cup Final that was being screened on the TV in our bedroom - ‘Kick Off’) we decided to call the Maternity Ward and informed them that we were on our way. After a waddle to the car, a 15 minute car journey and a waddle to the Birthing Unit we were shown into a room. The Big Clock above the bed informed us that it was 3.45pm (or ‘Halftime’)
Len informed the Midwife and I that although the contractions were painful she could cope without Gas and Air and would persevere with her TENS Machine - I was silently incredulous at this decision. How could someone going through as much pain as was evident in her face, demeanour and posture refuse a means of pain relief that she had agreed would be something that would be utilised when in labour? She carried on regardless while I began to question the sanity of whichever bloke had decided that being present at the birth was a more favourable option than drinking coffee, smoking fags (a pastime that I’d have happily taken up if it would’ve got me out of the room!) and sitting in a comfy waiting room chair while their Missus got on with it.
The Midwife left with what was at best a cursory visual (clothed) examination of Len and a less than convincing Schwarzeneggeresque ‘I’ll Be Back’ promise. She didn’t come back until I pressed the Orange Button after Len mentioned through gritted teeth that the pain was getting worse. As she politely tapped on the door and walked in before I had chance to reply ‘Hurry, Hurry, Hurry, I’m not coping too well with this!’ she looked quizzically at us and took Len’s revelation that she really could do with a poo in her stride deciding against her better judgement to actually give her the Rubber Glove treatment. After what seemd like an age she looked up from between Len’s legs and said ‘You’re 5 centimetres dilated’ a revelation that gave Len and I a positive lift as we’d conservatively estimated that she was only 2 or 3.
Gas and Air was brought in and with Len feeling pretty good she asked me to send a Text to both sets of parents informing them of how she was doing. Len being Len decided to do this in the most imaginative of ways. This was the photo message that was sent at 6.30pm on the 24th February…
…our optimism knew no bounds, Len was coping well with the pain using TENS and Gas and Air and with the Midwife suggesting that the Baby would probably arrive by the time she knocked off at 9.00pm we were excited to continue with the fantastic progress that Len was obviously making.
At 7.00pm Len was 8cm dilated however she started to become less and less lucid, the Midwife had really only played a bit part the labour process thus far however she now took up permanant residence in our room as Len fought the urge to push and obeyed the orders to puff on the gas and air whenever she felt that she wanted to - So began the longest two and a half hours of my life.
By 7.15pm Len had disappeared into a place where I couldn’t actively converse with her and I stared into her eyes attempting to reassure her whilst wave after wave of contractions engulfed her body. Her eyes blankly stared back at me displaying a candid vulerability that I had never seen in her before, Hell, I didn’t even know it existed. My wife was emotionally naked, the pain, anguish and frustration that she was experiencing had stripped her to the bone, she was baring her soul to me and all I could do was tell her not to push and repeat whatever cliche of encouragement that came from our Midwife. I watched as a single tear dropped from her left eye and disappeared onto the white starched pillow and I blinked back the tears that filled my eyes. I heard the midwife ask if I was OK and I silently nodded. There was nowhere else that I’d rather be than in this room right now, I’d never question the sanity of that bloke ever again.
At 9.00pm with Len still 8cm it was decided that she should be moved from the Birthing Unit to the Delivery Suite Wing where it was agreed that she’d have an Epidural to alleviate the pain. How Len made the 6 minute trip through the corridors in a Hospital Bed with no Gas and Air and by that time no TENS Machine is anybody’s guess.
By 9.40pm I had my wife back, despite the fact that she was attached to more Monitors than a School Milk fetishist the epidural had kicked in and she was chatting away to me as if the last few hours hadn’t happened. We waited patiently, Elaine feeling small twinges as the drug fuelled contractions helped her dilate fully.
At Midnight she was allowed and instructed to push. It was then we encountered another problem. Elaine was pushing fantastically well (Midwife Number Two of Len’s Labour confirmed this), however she just couldn’t quite push Baby through the lip of the birth canal. Len was tiring and by 1.00am a Doctor was called to discuss her options - Ventouse, Forceps or C-Section none of them really appealed after the journey that she’d undertaken to get to this point.
Unfortunately the Doctor was busy in theatre so Len was instructed to continue pushing until he was available. At 1.40am, like a game of Hide and Seek with Orville and Jennifer Gray there was still no sign of the Quack and no sign of Baby however the top of the head kept appearing during her Herculian pushing efforts only to slowly disappear when the exertion became too much to bare. Elaine had been in labour for nearly 23 exhausting hours and it would appear that the theatre bound Doctor was her last throw of the dice. The negative ambience in the room was palpable as she accepted her fate and I did my best to remain upbeat.
Then something amazing happened a third midwife appeared and curiously examined Len with her eyes as Midwife Number Two explained our predicament. Once the explanation was complete she immediately composed her own diagnosis and barked ‘You don’t need a Doctor, that Baby’s ready to come out now’. I looked on astonished as Elaine drew on the intense positivity displayed by Midwife Number Three and conclusively declared ‘This Baby’s coming out by 2 (am)’. The whole room was uplifted and I encouraged my wife as she summoned up yet more reserves of energy and I watched my Daughter enter the world.
She was placed on Len’s tummy at 2.04am and I cut the cord that had been feeding Alice for the last 9 months and then we looked at each other in incredulity as the miracle that was our Baby lay wrapped in white blankets on her stomach.
The ordeal wasn’t over unfortunately, as Len and I spoke to our Parents informing them that they had a beautiful Granddaughter whilst the Midwives did their thing in became apparant that the placenta wasn’t going to emerge and the umbilical cord - Len was rushed to theatre leaving me figuratively and literally holding the Baby. After two hours and a litre and a half of blood loss Len finally appeared and was re-introduced to Alice at 4.45am. She’d been awake for over 24 hours and had experienced more pain and emotional turmoil than I could ever imagine.
In the fields of sport, music, cinema and literature I have Heroes. It has however taken my wife going through the act of childbirth to remind me how incomparible these people are to her.
