Logan’s Labour Story

It’s 2009, it’s 7th June and I am awoken at around 2am in desperate need of the toilet.  Sorry, but yeh, I needed a poo.

I noticed my tummy was contracting, so without waking my partner, I went into the lounge of our one bedroomed apartment and began jotting down the times I contracted.  I was 40+3 and knew I could go into labour any day now.  The contractions were 3-4 minutes apart and lasting about 30 seconds each.  Some longer, some shorter.

I was beginning to feel a little more uncomfortable, and scared, so I woke up my partner who helped with the timing.  I rang the hospital and was told to come in for an examination.  After all, this was my first baby and I didn’t really know what to expect.  We arrived at the hospital at about 4:30am and I was only a couple of cm dilated.  At this point I felt deflated and more scared then ever.  If the pain was this bad at this early stage, how bad was it going to get?  Oh naïve young child….

I was offered pethidine but declined.  I was moved onto a ward surrounded by women in labour or women cradling babies and cooing.  I didn’t want to hear either.  By 10am I was rolling around on the bed in agony (if I’d known what was to come I wouldn’t have described it as agony), but at the time, it felt like agony.  I was eventually moved into my own room at about 11am and given some gas and air to use.  I was re-examined and was reaching 4-5cm.  Slow progress.

By 2pm the midwives suggested they broke my waters with what appeared to be a knitting needle.  With a quick prod and a pop I was emptied out like a water balloon.  I bounced on a birth ball and water trickled down it like a water feature.  I remember the water looking a little…..gritty?!  Perhaps in hindsight I should have mentioned that.

Anyways, the lack of cushiony fluid certainly made my little mans head bear down like a pestle in a mortar….GRIND, GRIND, GRIND.

It was finally time to push, chuffing away on the gas and air I squirmed and squealed.  I remember trying to shuffle up the bed in agony, trying to get away from my own vagina. It burnt, why is my baby giving me a Chinese burn? Swearing and moaning like those annoying women on OBEM I pushed and complained that I couldn’t do it.

Eventually, much to everyone’s delight I’m sure, I squeezed the little man out at 17:35pm.  The relief was quite literally the same as having a poo.  Funny how my day started needing a poo and ended with the relief of having had one.  I hadn’t but you what, some people do.  Its A-OK!

He was perfect in everyway and latched on for a feed and skin to skin.  It was total love at first sight.  Until I saw the placenta and wanted to spew.

So that’s the story.  I could do on and moan about the care in the hospital but that’s just a bit dreary so I’ll spare you.


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