Ah, four years ago today…I was being told to get my knickers off and I obliged…but only because a small person was trying to push his way out of my lady bits a lot quicker than anticipated and I was still wearing underwear.
He wasn’t prepared to wait for a single second longer (no change there, then) and so my second stage of labour only lasted for…wait for it…nine minutes.
The first stage had taken just over four hours, from when my waters burst with a very loud ‘pop!’ when I went for a wee about 4.30am that nearly made me fall off the toilet with the shock and made me think I’d just done some sort of weird internal fart (my waters breaking with my eldest was much gentler).
I was due to have a home birth (we had the tarpaulin on stand-by) but had a trace of meconium in my water so needed to go to the hospital after all to be induced…none of which sounds very nice but in the end it really didn’t matter.
One, because I had a totally fantastic midwife (I was on caseload-led care due to the traumatic birth of our eldest followed by post-natal depression) and two, once your contractions start coming thick and fast you’d basically give birth ANYWHERE on the planet if it meant expelling the little cherub who’s trying to tie knots in your vagina.
My natural contractions took over quickly and I started on the gas and air (did I mention I think it’s WONDERFUL stuff?), at which point we realised I’d forgotten my notes and my husband would have to go home for them (we thought we still had plenty of time).
Turns out we didn’t. He arrived back just as I was in established labour and the midwife, Jo, ordered him to go down the business end (he REALLY didn’t want to) in time to see our son’s head crowning (ouch!) with a thick head of hair and then his little, hairy, 7lb 11oz body following after.
After ‘skin-to-skin’ (or fur-to-skin; he really was VERY hairy) I sat and casually ate toast and drank a cup of tea whilst he fed and then went and had a leisurely bath whilst my hubby looked after him. And do you know what? In stark contrast to the birth of our eldest, I felt FANTASTIC! And exhilarated. And really, really proud of myself. I was buzzing.
It was so novel to actually be calm and in control throughout labour and childbirth (largely down to a great midwife) and then to feel ‘normal’ almost immediately afterwards (as opposed to being on a drip, bleeding like a stuck pig and with a catheter and very painful episiotomy to contend with after the birth of our first child).
He was a lovely baby, too. Chilled out, easy to feed and easy to please…pretty much the opposite of what he is now. Oh well, it was nice whilst it lasted.
But his birth was amazing, memorable and unique – in other words, our little boy in a nutshell.
Happy 4th birthday, our special little Moo-Moo. Love you lots and lots. 🙂