Beautiful Births #12 - Laura's Induction & Emergency C-Section

Beautiful Births is back! I absolutely love reading birth stories as every experience is so unique, and after sharing my own two very different birth experiences [emergency c-section and natural VBAC] I decided to ask other mums and dads to share their beautiful birth stories with me, too. If you’d like to share your birth story, send me an email or get in touch via Twitter or Facebook.

This week one of my favourite bloggers, Laura from Life With Baby Kicks, is sharing her birth story. Our children are mere months apart in age, so we often share the same trials and tribulations of motherhood. It seems we shared similar birth experiences as well...

I'm not sure that either of my births would be classed as a beautiful birth, other than the fact that at the end of each birth I brought home a beautiful, healthy, son.  

For a long time I blamed my body for not doing what it was meant to.  For failing me.  For failing my children.  What I chose to ignore was that I was telling my body to do something it wasn't ready to do - out of complete medical necessity - and instead of blaming my body for what it couldn't do, I needed to own what it did.  It grew, and bore two children.

An emergency c-section is nothing to be ashamed of.  Any c-section is nothing to be ashamed of.  My first c-section was seconds away from being a general anesthetic procedure......

My first pregnancy came as a beacon of light during a sad time, first my husbands mum passed away suddenly and then my dad died 6 weeks later just as suddenly and yet in the middle a little star of light came in the form of my pregnancy.  It wasn't without complications, being a chronic hypertensive puts you in the high risk category but generally it passed without hitch.  I even got to the point where I thought I may even get the birth I planned and wanted, after watching One Born Every Minute, rather than the birth that the Doctors deemed safest.

It all went wrong.

My original induction was booked on due date, but the week before my blood pressure spiked and had me headed to the hospital every other day for checks and CTG's if it remained below 140/90 I was allowed to go home again.  So go home I did for 3 of the 4 appointments the week leading up to my due date.  The fourth, a Saturday, we drove up to the hospital preparing to go in, be checked and be sent away.  I had my Asda shopping list in my hand and we were planning on making the most of our last baby free weekend.  Except that's when my blood pressure shot up and instead of heading to the car I was headed to the labour ward, cannula in hand, pessary in, CTG on, husband sent home with the car due to the high car parking prices in London hospitals.  Rushing back.

Induction began.

And as I said it isn't beautiful.  But mine wasn't particularly eventful to begin with.  Sat with a pessary in and the Pre-Eclampsia Trolley in my room in case of emergency, though my blood pressure levelled quite quickly.  The husband arriving with our packed bag filled with treats.  The less than dignified monitoring of water in and water out.  The Pizza Express my husband ran out to get part way through the process.  Tin Tin on the TV.  Yes, to begin with induction was long and boring.

Then came the action.  My waters got broken when I was a mere cm dilated.  It hurt, but it got things moving.  The drip went in and the contractions started.  So did the gas and air.  And the ball.  Time seemed to just drift by aimlessly and it was still very chilled out, very relaxed, iPod on and coming up to nearly 24 hours awake we went with an epidural to try and get me some rest.

What happened instead was the scariest 8 minutes of my life (which were closely followed with his brother's birth) his heart rate dropped dramatically, the room which was dimmed with Earth, Wind and Fire playing in the background ~ got to love some disco cheese ~ filled with lights.  With doctors.  Shouting.  My bed rails were pulled up and I was sprinted down the corridor, scrubs thrown at my husband with a shout of Theatre 2.  Who then in true British fashion went and got changed in the toilet despite the fact that the room was private and emptied seconds before.

Spinal administered.

Scratches to test.  Still feeling.

Third time, warnings I'd be put to sleep if I could feel.  I couldn't.

Screaming "Cut me, get my baby"

And they did.  And he was blue.  They breathed life into him.  They rubbed him back to pink.  They brought him to us.

And they did all this within the 8 minutes it had taken for the midwife to call the doctors in.

My son, born 5:15am 7th October 2012 after going into hospital the day before.

Now, yes it is by no means your standard beautiful birth.  But what is beautiful is that he is here.  What is beautiful is that he was saved.  What is beautiful is that I'm around to tell him.

So no.  My body didn't fail me.  My c-sections don't make me any less of a mother.  My birth not being what we would normally perceive as beautiful doesn't make it any less beautiful.

My birth made me a mother.

And that is the most beautiful thing of all.

There are so many similarities between Laura's birth experience and mine, and while it makes me tear up to read how traumatic her son's entry into the world was, I love that she can see why this is still a beautiful birth. Thank you for sharing your birth story, Laura!

You can read more beautiful birth stories here.

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