I am blogging about my birthing experiences to support a blogger led initiative to raise money for Save The Children’s Build It For Babies campaign.
I had my first child when I was twenty-eight years old. It was nine months of morning sickness, except that the morning sickness was morning, noon, and night. It didn’t matter what I did. I would eat crackers before moving out of bed or I would eat nothing, either way, I would vomit. I vomited everywhere, at home, at friends, on my walk to work (that was a joy). My co-worker once asked why I looked like, well crap in the morning, gee, I just vomited in a parking lot. Even with all the vomiting I somehow managed to gain forty pounds and my gynecologist told me it was time to snack only on carrots. I hate carrots. The weight gain was terrible on me because of a pre-existing back problem. When I found out that I was pregnant, my medications were stopped, and a special back brace was purchased for me to wear pretty much all the time. There were days though, that the pain was too much for me, and my family doctor would make a house call. He would inject me with a painkiller, in hopes that it would ease the pain, always reassuring me that my baby would be fine, and she was.
Fast forward to the birthing day. We only lived a few blocks away, but since I was huge, and had a very bad back, hubby drove me to the hospital. I didn’t go into labour, so labour was induced. At first, no problems, then the contractions started. I was given an epidural, which now meant I couldn’t move from the waist down. My husband with the aid of the nurse would turn me from side to side every hour, which of course meant I would start vomiting again, this went on for twenty-four hours. After twenty-four hours, I had finally dilated the ten centimetres necessary for birthing and my doctor said it was time to push. I laughed! There was no way in hell I was even going to try to push after having been sick all day and night, plus the epidural had made me completely useless (they had given me quite a bit more than normal because of my back). Out came the forceps and the baby was delivered with hubby exclaiming “it’s a, a girl!” Our daughter, all 7lbs 15oz was adorable.
Three years later, I went through the whole process again, this time labour was only twelve hours and I was able to push. I did yell at my gynecologist because he kept saying just one more push. Really? I also yelled at my husband for doing this to me again! Our second child was a girl, we were overjoyed. Middle child though was born with hip dysplasia and ended up having to wear a brace for the first six months of her life. She hated the brace! We would have to undo it when we changed her diaper, so putting her legs back in was not fun, she kicked and kicked.
Two years after middle child, I had my third and last. Again induced, another twelve hours of puking, and yelling at my husband. Per usual I was far too tired to once again push, but I continued to vomit which had the effect of pushing. So every time I was sick, the baby came out a bit more. When the head was somewhat out, my family doctor asked if I wanted to touch her head. Well I was game, but when I did, my initial reaction was a loud ‘YUCK’. Luckily, our son does not recall this.