Tall Tales for Oscar H Smethurst: Labour of Love...Part Three

I discovered something about Ryan in the early hours two Saturdays ago. My husband sleeps like a bear in hibernation. We both do. So the words "I think my waters have broken" didn't have any kind of impact on my sleeping bear.

None. Zip. Nadda.

To be fair, I was the one who'd cried wolf a couple of times before, purely to gauge his reaction to the news I'd just gone into labour. And both times he looked at me and said, on a slightly raised octave, "Seriously??" while I fell about the floor laughing.

And what happened to that little person who told porkies about the wolf? No-one came to the rescue!

Our loo is positioned very close to our bedroom. In fact, if we were the type of couple who exchanged small talk while using the facilities, we could do this very comfortably, and maintain eye contact while doing so. So when my waters broke I could basically rouse Ryan from his slumber by pelting his head with rolls of loo paper. I didn't do this. Obviously. Instead, I shuffled with my knickers around my ankles to gently shake him awake as hard as I could (I'd done something similar when I shared the news of being pregnant 9 months before).

It worked. Ryan sat up in one sharp intake of air "What? Are you sure?" is all he could say.

"Yes. I'm almost sure. As sure as I can be. I thought I wet the bed but is doesn't smell like pee, it doesn't smell like anything." came my reply.

I called the midwife unit at Kingston Hospital while perched on the loo. Each time I moved more water kept gushing out of me, so the loo was the safest place to be. I explained to the midwife what I thought was going on and then began to shake uncontrollably. This was happening. And it was happening now.

"I think you should come to the hospital, let's just make sure your waters have broken and check that your baby is okay, don't bring your bags in, just yourselves as we might send you home" Carmel the duty midwife explained.

Time: 05:10 Saturday 09/11/13

We both managed to have a shower and set about gathering all our bags, the car seat, the birthing ball, our snack-pack which was now a fully catered picnic that could feed a starving family of 6. I'd added an item the night before to the list Ryan had made; Dudley - we couldn't forget the little grey bunny we'd been fostering in anticipation for Little Ones arrival.

While I was waddling around our flat gathering the rest of my things and desperately trying to find the TENS machine I'd rented (we hunted around for ages for the blasted thing only to discover it was in Ryan's back pack all along!) I was overcome with the most excruciating tummy pain I'd felt in like...EVER!

I'd had a similar pain a few weeks before while on the bus heading home; as I walked through the front door, tears running down my face, into the arms of my husband, trying to describe said pain, I ended up pacing around rubbing my stomach only to let out a pretty loud fart. Turns out trapped wind hurts like a b**** and can feel like false labour or Braxton Hicks.

Only this time it was not trapped wind.

This was my first taste of a contraction. Think period pain and multiply it by 50, that's what it felt like! It quite literary took my breath away (and not in a good way either!). In our antenatal classes we were told that a contraction will come over and feel like a wave, it hurts the most at its peak and dips away. Well this was true.

It's worth mentioning that while all this is going on, my husband is ticking through his check-list and making sure we haven't left anything behind. He was secretly and silently congratulating himself at being so well organised.

I wanted my sister by my side as my second birthing partner because I knew I could count on her to lie to me when things got really bad (when I was 11yrs old I was attacked by a dog and it was Kerry who was by my side "It doesn't look that bad..." she told me, as I lay bleeding in the doctors room, "...you'll need a couple of stitches at most.".

I was in hospital for weeks and needed reconstructive surgery.

So as we climbed into the car I phoned my sister "I think I'm in labour? We're heading to the hospital so maybe you should get up, I'll phone you in 45min to let you know what's happening." was all I could get out before being walloped in the stomach by another contraction. My sister lives 90min away in a little village called Battle. My contractions were now 3 minutes apart.

Time: 05:50

Ryan got us to the hospital in record time, without speeding. All I can say about this journey is it was still the longest of my life and I was so thankful it was a Saturday morning with very few cars on the road.

As we stood waiting in reception of the maternity ward with just my notes and me clutching my stomach, the heat was unbearable that I headed to the single disabled loo just off to the side, knowing a cool seat awaited my butt and I could take a couple of layers of clothes off. This was the position I was most comfortable in at home; sitting on the loo. I couldn't move. My contractions were now more intense and still 2 to 3 minutes apart. Ryan checked in on me and a short while later helped me to the triage area in the maternity ward as there were no beds available.

I didn't want to lie down and chose to stand by the window, facing out and just focused on my breathing. There was a woman curtained-off in the bed next to me who was making the most animalistic noises I'd ever heard come out of a human being. Little did I know that I'd be making the same noises in a short while.

At this point things start getting a little hazy. I started shaking uncontrollably again. I asked Ryan to phone my sister and tell her to come immediately, this baby wasn't waiting. I needed my TENS machine. While Ryan headed off to make calls and get our things out the car, I was given an internal examination. Lying down was pure agony.

Eva, the duty midwife, smiled down at me while I was in a comprising position, "Well I have some good news" she beamed "you're 7cm dilated, you won't be doing this for much longer, what sort of birth were you hoping for?".

I was hoping to just collect our baby at the counter like you do at Argos when you order something from their catalog. Because I don't think this baby can come out of my vagina, 7cm dilated or 10cm dilated, I don't bloody care!

Of course I didn't say this, the only words I could get out of my dry mouth was "water birth, I was hoping to have a water birth".

"Well lets see what we can do about that. I think one of the birthing suits with a pool is free, so lets try get you into that" Eva was far to chipper for my liking.

Ryan returned with the TENS machine and confirmed my sister was on her way. I'd had no pain relief at all and this little TENS unit was in our control entirely. As Ryan connected the four little pads to my back, we both completely forgot how the bloody thing worked, having being playing with it a few nights before, we'd not altered the settings, so when my next contraction hit and I hit the little button on the TENS to give me a boost of electricity to numb the pain, I think I electrocuted myself on the highest setting. It hurt worse than the contraction, "Get this thing off of me, right now!" I yelped as Ryan quickly got all the sticky pads off my back.

Time: I have no freaking idea - I had a tiny human only 3cm away from protruding from my cervix and had just inadvertidly given myself my first taste of electric shock therapy.

At this point I completely lost my inhibitions. The birthing suit was indeed ready, I wasn't able to sit down in a wheelchair, like you see in the movies, so I had to walk, without my pants, to room 5 down the hall. I was grateful to Eva who wrapped a sheet around my waist as the two of us walked as if were were taking part in a joint sake race, ankles tied together.

As I entered room 5 I remember hearing running water. The pool was being filled up with warm water. Two very lovely midwives, Natalie and Maxine, let me do what I wanted. And I wanted to stand. As I bent over the bed, all I asked for was gas/air, also known as Entonox made up of half oxygen and half nitrous oxide. It's also known as laughing gas. It has a calming effect and can take the edge off labour pain, rather than blocking it out. I vaguely remember Ryan taking a hit of Gas/Air himself at somepoint!

The contractions were now hitting harder and were a lot more intense. The gas/air combination worked like a dream and I sucked on that pipe like the daft caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland. It was good stuff!

Finally the pool was ready. I had to be between contractions to get into the water. As I dipped in, I felt like I'd been wrapped in warm cotton wool. This is just how I wanted it to be.

I continued puffing on the pipe during my contractions, I was lucid but hazy. I didn't want to speak or be spoken to. I could only manage one or two words at a time anyway. Ryan was by my (pool) side the entire time with water making sure I remained hydrated between contractions. During this time, my sister arrived, it must've been just after 8am? I had the two people I wanted with me by my side. I didn't really talk to either of them, but could make out that they were taking bets with one another as to what time they thought Little One would arrive.

I was in another world. I zoned out completely. I have no idea how I managed to do this, but I did. I didn't panic or focus on the pain that twisted my stomach into a zillion knots. I was in the moment. In between contractions, I had a little internal dialogue running with Little One just between us. I grunted, made bore like noises and breathed like I'd never tasted fresh air, every contraction brought me closer and closer to our first born. It was an experience I never ever want to forgot.

The entire time in the pool, I'd pushed myself up against the side of it, draping my arms over the side and clutching the rim with my left arm and holding my magical puffer pipe of gas/air with my right. I'd not notice this until it was all over, but I was biting down on the magical puffer pipe not with my mouth but with my lip. And hard. So much so that by the time it was all over, my lip would resemble that of a boxer having done 6 rounds with Mike Tyson! Swollen and numb.

All of sudden, and with very little warning, my body decided it was ready to push.

It felt like I needed to have a massive poo and throw up at the same time. I had zero control of my body. I could not fight this. Nor did I want to. I told the midwives I needed the loo "that's your baby's head, you're 10cm dilated and your baby boy is ready, are you ready?"

Did it matter? Ready or not Little One was coming.

I was given instructions on when to push and how to push. None of which I can remember. The midwives were tough but kind and urged me to push as much as I could with each contraction. I could feel Little Ones head at the entrance of my cervix, it felt like a burning sensation similar to that of burning your finger on a hot plate but not being able to remove it. I pushed and pushed for what seemed forever. I could feel his head and desperately tried to hold him there on my pelvic floor at the end of each contraction only to have him slip back to where he'd been.

The midwives got me to change position to see if that would help. It was at this time that I asked Ryan if he wanted to get in the pool. Keep in mind I was high on gas/air. He looked at me puzzled.

"You brought your swimming trunks" I tried to persuade him.

"Nah, it's okay, I'm better off right here."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm absolutely positive I don't want to get into the water."

At that point I turned around in order to change position as instructed by the midwives and glimpsed why my husband flat out refused to get into the water with me. It was scattered with what I'll politely describe as rabbit droppings. Made by one huge ass rabbit. I was said rabbit. And I didn't care one bit. I had a tiny human who was desperate to come into the world. Only much later (like a week later) did my sister and Ryan go into rather explicit detail at how a proper pooper-scooper was used at the time.

The new position in the water worked for all of 5 or so contractions. The midwives called for back-up in the shape of a crazed midwife who basically started cheering me on like some birthing fanatic. I was asked if I would be okay grabbing hold of my baby under the water and bringing him to the surface? Um, I hadn't thought that far. I had a quick vision of them using the net to retrieve our son if I wasn't able to grab him. It was then that the midwives informed us that Little Ones heart rate was dropping. He wasn't enjoying this. I had to get out of the pool and onto the bed.

It's blurry as to who exactly helped me out of the pool but between contractions I managed to get out and onto the bed and continued pushing my heart out. It was then that the crazed midwife told me that if I didn't get the baby out in the next contraction "I'll be forced to cut you" that's when my heart rate dropped.

After what seemed like an eternity and with one final big push, Little One entered the world.

This part is all very fuzzy; Little One let out a wee cry, nothing hysterical or over the top and was placed on my chest almost immediately. I was in complete shock. I didn't cry (I thought I'd fall apart at seeing him for the first time). Ryan and I found one another in the mix of emotions to give each other a congratulatory kiss.

He was finally here. He was finally with us. And he was beautiful.

Oscar lay on my chest for almost an hour while I was seen to by the midwives. I couldn't take my eyes off of him. I still can't.

I vaguely remember Ryan cutting Oscars umbilical cord. We asked that it remained attached for as long as possible as this is supposed to be very good for the baby, to get the last bit of nutrients from the placenta before being separated from the cord. After a little while he was taken from my arms, weighed and dressed.

And slowly the fog began to lift and was replaced with sheer jubilation which lasted the entire first week after his arrival. I'm only now slowly starting to return to my normal self. Ryan described the me in that first week as Sharon-on-Speed.

Later that afternoon when it was just the three of us, I wept. I sobbed my heart out. I was so happy and so relieved that Oscar and I had both made it through this. And we had the most perfect, healthy and gentle baby boy, who seemed as happy and content with us as we were with him.

I breathed for the first time that day.

I will never be able to hold the length of my labour against our son in an argument one day when he's being a bit mouthy, towering over us, wanting to borrow the keys to our car, as it lasted all of 4hrs 55min.

Oscar Haydn Smethurst was born at 09:55 on Saturday, weighing 3.5kg. His birthday is very unique as there are only 5 times in 100 years where the date is 3 sequentially odd numbers 09/11/2013.

Two weeks into our journey as parents, I'm still a bit fuzzy. All three of us are adapting to our new lives. Friends comment on how well we seem to be doing and I can honestly say it's because Ryan and I have each other in all of this.

I cry almost daily. Still tears of joy. I can't believe how much I actually love the little person we've been blessed with. My friend Penny calls this the 4th trimester, where your body gets back to normal. So I'm allowing myself to be a bit spacey.

I wouldn't swap my experience for anything in the world. And I'd more than likely do it again...just not for another 35yrs!