Preparation
- NHS birth preparation 1 day course at the Rosie
- Birthing plan consultation and tour at the Rosie
- 2 hour breast feeding workshop at the Rosie
- We didn’t do NCT
- Birth place: Rosie Birth Centre, Addenbrooke’s Hospital, Cambridge, UK
- Birth date: 24th Sept 2017
Weeks Leading up to Birth
The weeks leading up to birth were a lovely time. I had finished work, was feeling well and had all the time in the world to nest, nap and really look after myself. I did a lot of online shopping to gather all the things I needed; from a new tumble dryer to black out blinds, tens machine, breast pump and new slippers – I felt well prepared. The flat was marvelously clean and tidy with all bedding and baby clothes freshly laundered, soft and smelling like a new meadow. Everything was taken care of. In the week before birth I got my car MOTed, had my nails and hair done, hired a monthly window cleaner, booked a weekly organic fruit and veg delivery, pre-booked flower and birthday cards online to see me through the next month, and took any clutter to the dump. I even had time for a weekly pre-natal swim group which was heavenly – lots of relaxing floating about.
Early Labour
My due date was 22nd Sept 2017, which came and went without incident. The next night I went to bed at 11.30pm and started to feel some light period pains. I calmly got up, reassuring my husband to stay asleep, and had my first contraction at midnight. From that first contraction they came every 2 minutes, and felt quite intense. They were bearable but I remember crying out in pain at each one. I phoned the Rosie who said early labour can take 24 hours, and to phone back when my waters broke or there was any change. I felt in control and determined, and gritted my teeth to get on with it. I sat on my yoga ball with pen, paper and clock and wrote down the time of each contraction – they were every 2 minutes from the first one. I continued like this until 4am when I started vomiting, which woke my husband. He helped me set up my tens machine, which was an immediate relief and support. I put the electro pads on my lower back and held the controller – pressing the button whenever I had a contraction. It really helped. By 5am I was getting tired and my body tried to sleep between each contraction, which was hard to do in only 2 minute intervals but I remember lying on the couch and my eyes shutting for moments in-between the pain. Then my waters broke at 6am – which was like a forceful explosion of water. It certainly was unmistakable! I phoned the Rosie back who told me to come in. My early labour had lasted 6 hours.
At the Hospital
When we arrived at the Rosie I remember finding it quite hard to get into the birthing suite. We couldn’t remember which buzzer and door it was, but got there in the end. The feeling of relief to finally be at hospital was immense. We started out in one of the lovely birthing rooms downstairs. Upon examination, they found I was already 4cm dilated, but because my waters had a green colour to them it indicated the baby was distressed and I was sent upstairs within 5 minutes of arrival. The room upstairs was good I’m pleased to say. It was private, and I always had a midwife in with me. They put 2 straps round my belly – one to monitor my contractions and one to monitor the baby’s heart rate. At this point I took my first paracetamol, having held off taking any whilst at home. So I was all set in my room, in a gown, on the bed, husband and midwife with me; I felt excited and well taken care of. This was around 7am on 24th Sept – I’d missed the whole night’s sleep having been contracting since midnight but felt strong to carry on.
Time rolled on and on in this room, with me having a painful contraction every 2 minutes throughout the day. I was gripped to my tens machine, which did really help. Later in the day I got re-examined, and was still only 4 centimeters! Mentally that was challenging news to hear as I had been physically working so hard for so long. I buckled down to continue. By mid-afternoon, around 3pm things were picking up and I was reaching full dilation, but both the baby and I were entering distress. I remember feeling very hot and then very cold. I asked for a cold face cloth on my forehead to cool me down one minute as I was sweating and burning up, and the next minute asked for my jacket to be put over me as I was shaking with cold. The midwife tested my urine and said my body was going into survival mode as I had ketones present in my urine. She said it was important I ate and drank. They brought me some buttered toast. I chewed it but couldn’t swallow it and spat it back out. However, Richard was able to feed me Haribo jelly sweets and water (a straw was helpful here).
Then the big contractions started to come. At this point I used the gas and air which did help take the edge off things. The big contractions were huge – like the worst uncontrollable heaving, causing me to poo myself, which the midwife kindly wiped up. All promising signs, however the baby’s heart rate was dropping every time I had one of these big contractions. The midwives were worried, telling me not to push but I couldn’t help it. By this point there were a lot of people in the room. The examinations got more thorough (all hands inside me) but I didn’t mind that – it wasn’t any more painful. From the physical examination they determined that although I was fully dilated the baby had the cord wrapped round her neck which meant she couldn’t turn to get in the right position for birth. Due to this issue and my state of exhaustion (I remember passing out whilst the doctor was talking to me), I agreed to go to theater. By this point I was scared and happy for any medical help they recommended. I felt very aware that both mine and the baby’s lives were in real danger.
My bed was wheeled through to theater, I was given an epidural, surgically cut and Betsy was pulled out with a ventouse (vacuum) delivery at 4.30pm. This part wasn’t so bad. The medical team were really excellent and I felt calm and relieved to be in good hands. However, one of the odd parts of this experience was being given paperwork to sign before the epidural was administered. I was in no fit state to sign anything, and just remember yelling “I’ll sign anything you give me, just hurry up!” I still don’t know what this paperwork was, and I think it should be shown to women before birth for review in case it is needed in an emergency. Perhaps it could even be pre-signed ahead of time.
The epidural was great – and made the actual delivery completely pain-free. I heard Betsy cry and was filled with relief and love. The afterbirth was delivered, and they stitched me up. Apparently I suffered a mild hemorrhage at some point during delivery and lost 500ml of blood, which I wasn’t aware of at the time but have since learnt was below a critical level (800ml blood loss is considered serious). Betsy was checked out and weighed. At first they were worried she may need to go to the baby unit, as her head was very cone shaped from the traumatic assisted delivery. But in the end they decided she could stay with me as she quickly showed signs of improvement. The mood changed in the theater from one of worried urgency to happiness and professional celebration. Everyone congratulated me and said she was a good size, had good tone, and one person remarked “look at the thighs on her!” I was a very proud mummy.
Birth Weight
One of the most common first things to learn about your baby is their weight – but in my situation I found this piece of information strangely hard to obtain. In the theater they weighed her and reported her weight in Kg. I asked what that is in pounds and someone said 8lb 9oz. I used this weight in all the first messages to friends and family – and they included it on personalised cards, mementos and keepsakes. However, it wasn’t until weeks later I realised the correct conversion was actually 8lb 7oz. So be warned, the hospital will give you your babies weight in kg, but you – and all friends and family, will immediately want it in lbs and oz! It’s hard to do Kg to lb conversion on your phone – you really need the conversion table in the red baby record book they give you after birth. I have this to hand now whenever other new parents message me their new baby weights in kg, and I’ll have it to hand next time to make sure I can have the important personal experience of acknowledging and announcing my baby’s birth weight correctly.
The First Night
Leaving theatre we were wheeled into a quiet curtained spot on a ward. I was very happy, felt thankful to the excellent medical staff who had saved us, and ate 2 rounds of buttered toast and tea which was wonderful. Betsy was put on my breast and she fed well for 40 minutes. I thought everything was perfect! Despite the toast, I remember being incredibly hungry and thinking someone will bring me a meal soon, she was born at 4.30pm so dinner must be on the cards. But that didn’t happen unfortunately, so we ate some cereal bars we had brought in my hospital bag. Due to the time of day we realised we would be staying the night, so tried to settle in.
From this point on, my initial sense of achievement, happiness and feeling of perfection that my baby and I remained alive and healthy were steadily and unexpectedly eroded during the transition into what turned out to be the worst week of my entire life. I was completely unprepared for the horrendous dark days that followed.
By this point, I had been awake for the past day and a half, had been through a 16 hour labour and had an operation in theatre. Were this chain of events to occur in any other situation, the medical advice would be to eat, sleep and stay clean to recover. That is what I was expecting to be able to do. However, I didn’t sleep for a stretch of 5 consecutive nights.
That first night, the ward was light and noisy and Betsy would not stop crying. We were hungry and Richard had no bed. He could either lie on the hard floor or sit in the chair next to my bed. I had a catheter in and couldn’t walk or feel my legs after the epidural. I was numb from the waist down. I was surprised and alarmed to see I was sitting on a blood soaked bed. I asked the nurse about this who confirmed it was normal and gave me a 2- foot square sanitary blanket to sit on. Out of all these unexpected problems, the main issue was Betsy crying. All night long. The nurses said it was not normal and they thought it sounded like she was in pain. When they caught us desperately trying to play white noise off our phone to calm her the nurse offered to give Betsy formula and paracetamol to settle her down and give us a break. We quickly accepted, and they brought her back to us calm and sleeping.
Day 1
As day broke on Monday morning – we were relieved our ordeal in the sleepless ward was almost over, and I remember saying “We’ll stay for the breastfeeding workshop at 11am and then we’ll go home”. That was our plan, I thought it was my decision when I could leave. On the plus side as we got our bearings, we realised where the canteen was that served breakfast, lunch and dinner – and I hungrily had some breakfast. However, to our surprise the men were not allowed any food! It was strictly for new mums only.
The breastfeeding workshop was good, although Betsy thrashed and cried all through it while the other new parents cuddled their little quite bundles who didn’t make a sound. I really paid attention to the lactation expert and stayed behind to ask questions and get more of a demo on technique. I was determined to get breastfeeding right.
As it turned out, there was a steady stream of medical professionals due to see Betsy that day, from the hearing lady, to the pediatrician who checked hips. Betsy was okay in every test, although the pediatrician told us it was his professional opinion that we stay in an extra night because it was good for us to be where all the help is, should we need it. Trying to do what was best for my daughter I reluctantly agreed. Richard was forced to go home, since he was exhausted and there was no food or bed for him on the ward. I accepted my fate of one more night, tried to have a positive mental attitude and focused on trying to relax and master breastfeeding. By evening, I had just finished a great 1 hour breast feed from both boobs, Betsy was wrapped cute as a button asleep and I thought I was in for a good night’s sleep! I felt very dirty having not washed since before labour began so asked for a towel and had a shower. This was great, but I somehow forgot to pack conditioner and a hairbrush in my hospital bag. So I could only shampoo my hair and leave to dry in a tangled matted mess. But still – I used soap and felt better and clean. Even though I enjoyed it, the shower was a bit disgusting because I remember having to step over another woman’s blood clot that was lying on the shower floor. Still – despite all this I was clean and feeling positive. Betsy was still sleeping so I got into bed to do the same.
Night 2
I got no sleep during night 2. The main issue I felt was that a nurse came round and checked Betsy’s underarm temperature with a probe every 3 hours. They would wake her up, unwrap her and probe her. This made her wild – and I ended up in a vicious cycle of trying to breastfeed her and settle her before the probe lady woke her up again. I actually managed to settle my difficult baby to sleep 3 times that night which I think is a big accomplishment for a new mum. But it was ruined by the persistent taking of her temperature. I would just get her to drift off and then the nurse appeared again – I said “You must be joking, I’ve just got her to sleep after hours of trying”, but the nurse said it was required routine monitoring.
After this carry on all night, at 5am Tuesday morning (keeping in mind I hadn’t slept now since Friday night) I was bobbing my screaming baby when I felt my bowels start to move. All the other mums and babies on the ward were quiet – either asleep or pretending to be whilst feeling sorry for me, and I didn’t know what to do. Could I leave my baby alone and go to the toilet? Or should I wheel her round to the nurses’ station as I had done whilst showering. I hesitated, rushed to put her down in her crib, rushed back, couldn’t decide, and then felt diarrhea running down my leg. I put her in the crib alone and legged it to the bathroom, leaving my baby and a trail of watery poo behind me.
Day 2
As day broke a few hours later, so did I. My strength, dignity and positive mental attitude were finally gone. I couldn’t stop crying and explained to the nurse doing rounds that I had pooed myself on the floor in the night, I couldn’t handle breastfeeding and wanted to switch to formula. I complained that our night had been ruined by the temperature probe nurse and that I wanted to go home and have my husband with me. I phoned him and told him to get back to the hospital ASAP. (He had had a great sleep at home.) At the time I felt very embarrassed to have had this breakdown and cry where woman on the other side of my curtain could hear me. I just wanted to be at home in private having this kind of emotional release during such a difficult personal time. They stayed quiet and I could feel their sympathy through the curtain.
The next unexpected drama was that the report of my night’s activity set alarm bells going off in the nurse’s head that I could be ill and be putting all babies in the ward at risk of a stomach bug! So as my husband arrived; me, my bed, my baby and all my belongings were being wheeled out of the ward and into solitary confinement under barrier nursing! The good point of this was I got a private room. The bad point was I was not allowed to leave the room under any circumstance, not even to get water. Betsy and I were imprisoned. I was extremely relieved to see Richard who was shocked to find me in such a state. First thing I did in the new room was have a shower (still with no conditioner or hairbrush). However, with unbelievable bad luck, the drain happened to be blocked in that room – so the wet room flooded, the bedroom flooded and the water seeped out into the corridor! Just as I had started to unpack I was then gathered up with all my stuff and wheeled into barrier nursing room 2!
Fine, breath, this second room was good – I told myself. I tried to keep strength and a positive mental attitude. Richard was with me again and I thought we would soon be going home.
Breastfeeding
From this point on, it was all about the breastfeeding. I had been in tears that morning saying maybe I should switch to formula because my baby wouldn’t stop crying – and so I was given more support which I readily took. I still really wanted to be able to breastfeed. The next few days were nothing like I imagined compared to the picturesque image of motherhood, and were very difficult indeed. I had my boobs out the whole time, they felt like anyone’s property. The breastfeeding nurse was very nice, and I would go through anything to get it working and to be allowed to go home. Up to this point I naively hadn’t tried hand expressing – but this was the task of the day. Hand express for hours and hours. I had to squeeze my boobs and knead them with my knuckles like bread dough while either Richard or the nurse waited with a plastic syringe to suck up anything that came out. It was droplets at a time. We kept trying to get Betsy on the boob under professional supervision – and they concluded that the medical term for her was a “reluctant feeder”. I kept going with the hand expressing, and after hours of work we were thrilled to have 0.4ml in the syringe.
The Misleading Marble
During the Rosie breastfeeding workshop I attended before birth, they showed us a marble and said – “Don’t worry about breastfeeding in the first few days after birth, your baby’s stomach is only the size of this marble, it won’t take much to fill it.” Now, in my mind, 0.4ml seems similar to the volume of a marble. So we were pretty happy with our first milk harvest. However, when the pediatrician visited us we asked him how much milk a new born requires per day – and he advised 200ml! He said we wouldn’t be allowed to leave hospital until we were doing 8 breast feeds per day, each for 30 minutes long and they had to be recorded in a purple booklet we hadn’t noticed in the room before then. In that moment I felt at the bottom of Everest.
We kept going, squeezing, kneading and syringing droplets off my tender nipples all day long and giving them to Betsy from the syringe before immediately transferring her to my boob in an effort to encourage her to latch on. This technique did work fairly well, and she began latching onto my left boob, but she couldn’t manage the right one.
Night 3
Much to my horror, I realised they weren’t going to let me leave hospital until I had established 8 x 30 min breast feeds per day as recorded in the purple book, and so I was faced with a 3rd night in hospital. I did feel better being off the ward and in my own room (even though it was due to such an embarrassing incident!), and actually the intimate time spent topless, man-handling my own body to hand express would have been awful on the ward. So I accepted my fate yet again and settled in for a third night. Luckily Richard said he would stay with me – even though he had no bed or food. There was 1 café he found near the Rosie entrance but it shut at 3pm. To sleep he knelt on the floor and bent over the chair with his face on the seat. What a ridiculous situation! (It was made even more bitter by thinking back to what they tell you on the tour of the birthing suite – double beds so the dad can stay! Not upstairs!)
I got no sleep the third night either. We just rocked Betsy and tried to breastfeed all night. The temperature lady came in every 3 hours to probe her, but I had given up hope of sleep so Betsy wasn’t wrapped up and it didn’t bother me so much. We were both just naked and trying to breastfeed. It was during this night I realised – due to the stress train I had jumped on immediately after birth, I hadn’t even had a chance to look and appreciate my baby’s tiny feet! So on the third night I saw them and felt more bonded with her.
Day 3
Breastfeeding was going better. I could feed her on the left boob but still struggled with the right one – but with full dedication, I was finally achieving 8 x 30 min feeds per day that were all recorded in the purple booklet. And Betsy’s weight was acceptable, the loss being within 10% of her birth weight – success! However, I felt unrecognisable, my hair was completely matted and I had no clean clothes. I was still bleeding heavily and had run out of sanitary products. Betsy still hadn’t been washed since birth – which is apparently the norm and good not to disturb her skin oils. But I felt at day 3 this was a bit much. She was sweaty, a bit smelly and still had dried blood on her head from the birth. I longed to wash my baby and wrap her in all the fresh clothes I had lovingly spent weeks preparing for her at home. Richard nipped home to get me and Betsy some clean clothes and then by 11am I was dressed, packed and ready to leave. But it never happened. We told everyone we wanted to go, and dutifully watched the going home information DVD, but it was delay after delay after delay for the next 12 hours.
Jandice
We saw the pediatrician who advised us to stay in another night. I told him while I wanted to do what is medically right for my baby, if I was forced to stay another night I would have a breakdown. I didn’t feel like I had post-natal depression yet, but another night would probably have tipped me over the edge. I asked him what the medical issue was – and it was all about the breastfeeding. He said if we left and didn’t feed her enough, she could end up jaundiced and back in hospital. Next began an inspection for jaundice. First he said she didn’t look jaundiced, them he undressed her and said she did look a bit jaundiced, then a nurse did a test with a machine on her skin which recorded that she was not jaundiced! The pediatrician said that even though we were doing 8 x 30min feeds per day, her weight was acceptable and she was not jaundiced, he would not recommend us for discharge. So we made the big, scary decision to discharge ourselves. We were leaving.
Self Discharging
I was getting more and more exhausted, this being Wednesday and incredibly I had still not slept since Friday night. I went to get us some teas but didn’t have strength to open the heavy canteen doors whilst holding the teas. So I sat down, cried for 10min and had to leave the teas and ask Richard to go back to get them for us. I was so weak.
The next issue was that I needed stomach injections to give myself at home for the next 10 days and there was no one to prescribe them to us. Richard took to standing at reception with Betsy in the car seat trying to create some pressure for them to get the self-discharge paperwork ready. In the end it came down to a shift change at 7pm – and I think there was then no one available to help us. I felt like the worst and most hated mother in the world – everyone at reception was silently glaring at me, the mother who is trying to self-discharge herself against the advice of the pediatrician.
Finally at around 11pm they found someone (a nice Scottish nurse who I think came over from another ward) who gave me the injections and paperwork to leave. I was in pieces by then, but again, I tried to regroup and make that magical family moment special of leaving hospital with the new baby for the first time. We were mega stressed, but I gave her one last breastfeed, made sure her outfit was just right, took a picture and we left. It was midnight by this point, we felt hated and there was no one lined up saying good bye. We took the stairs down, then out the front doors of the Rosie to….. torrential rain in the pitch black night! I’ve never seen rain like it in Cambridge. We had nothing to cover Betsy with, so the poor thing got soaked in her first moment being outside. Our car was in the multi-storey, so Richard made a dash for it with Betsy while I hobbled along slowly behind. I made it half way there when suddenly my body could go no further. I felt like my womb was going to fall out of my body. I was stood still, clutching my tummy, and could see Richard and Betsy already under cover in the carpark waiting for me. I tried to phone him to tell him I was stuck and to bring the car round, but he didn’t answer his phone and mine was getting soaked in the rain. I tried to shelter under my blood-stained pillow, and decided I was closer to the Rosie than the carpark so shuffled back. I made it back to the Rosie but still couldn’t reach Richard on the phone. I realised for the sake of my baby I was going to have to somehow make it to the carpark. I shuffled inch by inch, crying and dragging my wrecked body along in the dark and the rain, at a snail’s pace, clutching my womb, praying it didn’t fall out. I think this was the most horrendous and lowest point of my life.
Home
We made it home, by which point it was 1.30am. I desperately wanted food but there was nowhere open and we had nothing in. I was so in love with my new baby that happiness still managed to find me, and bringing her into our home that first time was magical despite the hour and all the ordeal. Everything was so clean, soft and perfect. It felt like a forgotten heaven compared to the hospital. First thing I did was have a bath and dry off with a lovely, soft, clean fluffy white towel.
Night 4 – Breastfeeding
Things quickly turned sour for us and at about 3am Betsy was screaming and I was struggling to breastfeed her. I felt so much pressure. Maybe the doctors were right, maybe I shouldn’t have left hospital, maybe she would get jaundice. I felt as if her life depended on me – and I was failing her. I tried to think quickly – I sent Richard out to buy formula, which didn’t work as it was 4am (the only thing he came back with was a speeding ticket!), and I opened my new breast pump, steriliser and bottles, which I hadn’t planned on needing until I went back to work! But thanks to those companies, each bit of kit was so easy to use that even in my sleep deprived stress-out state, I managed to pump 100ml of breastmilk and I felt physically relieved. Betsy drank it out the bottle and we all went to sleep for a few hours!
Day 4
That night I slept (for a total of 2 hours) on the couch with Betsy next to me in a bassinet. The next morning, as I opened my eyes, the first thought that ran through my head was – “I really hope there is not a new born baby next to me that I have to breastfeed”. I remember slowly looking over, seeing her and for a few seconds feeling crushed that it had not been a nightmare – it was unfortunately true. That was a truly horrific moment, but I’m glad to say it was the lowest point I went through – and from there things quickly got better as I was able to recover from the ordeal experienced since birth. I went out straight away and bought formula, and gave Betsy a full bottle of formula milk. I breathed a huge sigh of relief and felt a massive pressure lifted off my shoulders. My baby was fed, my baby would live. However, I could tell Richard was disappointed, so I kept breast pumping all day and giving her breast milk from the bottle.
Nipple Shield and Good Advice
The next day our saviour came round. Jane (part of the Lilly midwife team) turned up while I was double breast pumping. She listened carefully to the whole sorry story, and I explained how Betsy would sometimes take the left boob but couldn’t latch onto the right boob. I said I thought this was because the right nipple was physically a bit different and downwards pointing – as I had mentioned in the Rosie a few times. Jane gave me a nipple shield to try, and taught me how to relax my shoulders and get my position right. I had to breathe and be totally relaxed, completely the opposite to what I had been doing before of sitting hunched over, with a painful bleeding nipple feeling pressured to avoid jaundice. Jane’s input was fantastic and is the sole reason I was able to continue breastfeeding. I breastfed exclusively, using a nipple shield at every feed, for 4 months.
On Reflection
On reflection I feel grateful to everyone at the Rosie who gave me first class medical care and kept myself and my baby alive. However, I feel slightly robbed of the special experience (I hear) the birth of your baby can be.
- Firstly, I think better, more realistic anti-natal classes would have helped. Instead of just showing people the fancy birthing suite – why don’t they show them upstairs where the likelihood is you will end up. Show them the paperwork you might need to sign if you go for an epidural. Tell them that Dads won’t be able to eat or sleep on this ward. And my biggest request is please – throw away the misleading marble! Don’t tell women breastfeeding is going to be easy. Tell them it is worth it, but it will be hard to establish. Also – I wish someone at the Rosie had at least once discussed with me that nipple shields were an option. I had no idea they even existed and if I had tried one earlier it could have prevented things escalating into such a state.
- Secondly, one of my biggest regrets is how the self discharge process was handled. This turned my vision of joyfully leaving hospital “Will-and-Kate-style” – into more of a scene from The Walking Dead! We should never had been made to wait for so long and should not have been allowed to leave in the night, in the rain, on our own. I wish someone had made sure I was okay and offered me a wheel chair – and advised that Richard should bring the car round to collect me.
- Finally, I feel that more importance should have been placed on getting me as the new mum back on my feet, and more attention should have been given to my mental health. It felt as if all focus was on the medical needs of my baby. It didn’t matter if I was hungry, crying, unwashed, bleeding, missing my husband, naked, with matted hair, having missed 5 nights of sleep in a row. The priority was – religiously taking the baby’s temperature every 3 hours. I wish the baby could have been completely taken off me for the first night, and looked after by a nurse so I could have slept and recovered from my operation. Then I could have been reunited with Betsy when I was stronger and more able to cope. Since the key to breastfeeding turned out to be me being relaxed, I honestly think going home earlier to a more comfortable environment would have helped. Then having breastfeeding consultants (like Jane) visit me at home would have been the best plan for me and baby to get breastfeeding started.
Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter — Izaak Walton
My Real Birth Experience 