Leading up to my due date with my third son, I was on clexane injections daily to prevent clotting due to pretty bad varicosities. An ultrasound ruled out any current clots in my femoral artery - but we needed that preventative measure just in case. This meant that I was moved from Birth Centre to birth suites so they could induce me so we could plan when I finished clexane in relation to giving birth - this was to avoid the possibility of a haemorrhage if I was on clexane when in labour, and a clot if I was off it for too long. 

 I had two stretch and sweeps in the lead up to my induction date. After my first stretch and sweep, I began false labour pains about 36 hours later and was fully ready for it to turn into the real deal. But they tapered off and never returned. My last stretch and sweep I was at 3 cm dilated. 

On the morning of my induction, I was taken into MAU where I was given my cannula, my temperature, heart rate and blood pressure were also measured. My midwife had two unsuccessful tries before she called another midwife who got it on his second try. This wasn’t a good start, and I began to feel a little unwell from that. I’m usually ok with needles, but this was not fun! I was always so deep into the labour when I got cannulas with my last two children, so the pain just didn’t match up. Once we finally got a good cannula site, we were escorted into the birth suites (room 16) to get comfortable for the long haul. 

The first hour was spent monitoring bub to get a good reading on their vitals, a baseline, if you will. And then an ultrasound technician came in to check Bub was head down. Once all of this was finalised and good, my midwife broke my waters. Now, I was told this wasn’t going to hurt. Either she wasn’t very good at it, or people lied. Because wowsers, I was not comfortable, and I swore she hooked me on something she wasn’t meant to whilst trying to find the right spot. But, when it finally happened, only a trickle appeared. Which isn’t unlike my other two births.  

We sat for a few hours watching How I Met Your Mother. And when it seemed that labour wasn’t going to begin without a little help, I was then given the drip of Oxytocin. This was around 2:30pm. I was also hooked up to my TENS machine that I had hired from Bliss Birth (🙌🏼), I rolled some clary sage onto my wrists, set up my birth affirmations and grabbed my birth comb (all from Making Mama) ready for the process to begin. But it was slow. Bitey, but slow. So, I relaxed and just let it happen.  

A mere hour later, I was asking for an epidural. I knew that not much progress could happen in an hour. How was I going to last!? Bub’s heart rate wasn’t getting read well, so I was asked if we could do a scalp clip. I agreed, and asked if I could be examined whilst they were doing it, to check how far I had come. I was ready to hear maybe five centimetres. Even that would’ve knocked me down in disbelief. It had been only an hour after all. 

Seven! Seven centimetres I measured at. A pleasant surprise, yet still meant I had at least an hour, if not more, of this pain. Which, by the end of my midwife once again having to be inside me for longer than comfortable, meant my contractions were next level. I emptied my bowels and knew that meant things were moving. I took position back on the bed, on my side with the peanut between my legs to help get a better reading. 

Next thing I know, I’ve somehow thrown the peanut ball away and turned onto all fours. The bed was raised so I could hang over the top of the bed to labour. I had one hand on my TENS machine and one on the comb. And I laboured with two-minutecontractions and thirty-second breaks. I was absolutely exhausted. I, once again, begged for the epidural. But there was no time, I was pushing.  

One push. “Is that a head?!” I reached down and felt my baby’s head halfway out of my vagina. I was in complete shock. There was no way. My god, that ring of fire pain though! It was all too familiar. I knew it was almost over. 

Two pushes, baby’s head was out. Ahhhhhh. The relief. Momentary, of course. 

Deep breath. 

Three pushes, and baby fell out. And so did the rest of the waters that had not appeared. But something else too, what was that? I couldn’t even open my eyes. The pain wasn’t dissipating. I was absolutely shattered. “What is it?” I asked my husband who caught our baby. “It’s a boy!” A boy. I’m officially forever a boy mum. That has such a nice ring to it. I smile. Then relax again over the back of the chair. 

I glanced over to my husband who held our baby. Why is it grey? Who are these women guiding me onto my back? Where did they come from?

I was finally informed that I was bleeding, or in their terms “hosing”, and I needed to urgently deliver my placenta and get these sheets off the bed. The fundal massages are also poorly named if you ask me. There’s nothing “massagey” about them. I was out of any danger. The bleeding was stopping. Thank goodness. 

Now, onto my son. I was told he had his cord wrapped around his neck twice and his body once. Once my husband caught him, he said there were four pairs of hands taking him away from him. Next thing he knew he was handed scissors and told to urgently cut the cord so I could be looked after. The NICU team came and helped my midwife assess my son who was given oxygen. His first APGAR reading was 8, his second was 6. But after some time and help, it finally got up to 9 and was out of the woods.  

The urgency in the room again found it calm. We were ok. He was here. He was safe. I was safe. Although, it did look like I had been in a horror movie. I was coated in blood. The lovely midwives wiped me down so I could see my legs again and got me comfortable for my suturing. I had gotten a low-grade second-degree tear in my perineum. I also tore in my labia, but it didn’t require any stitches. 

This, in my opinion, is a really awful way to celebrate your newest arrival. Your legs up in the air. Presenting a very tender, swollen, torn private space. To then have a midwife check your anus for tears then proceed to give you five or six local anaesthetic needles right where a human was passing through not twenty minutes ago. Not fun. That and the fundal massages can bugger off together. Won’t miss them!

Once I was stitched up, I was showered and then we relocated to the postnatal ward where we were taken good care of by two lovely midwives over the course of our 24 hour stay. Then it was time to go home. This was the last time I’d ever leave this place with a newborn in hand. It was bittersweet. 

In the lead up to my birth, I was really nervous about being induced. There’s never anything positive written about an induction. We’re told that they almost always result in an instrumental delivery, intense pain, long labours… the list goes on. And I’m not here to say that those things don’t happen. But I’m so grateful I was able to experience a positive induction. Yes, I had a bleed. But they had it under control before I even realised I was bleeding. This labour and delivery was faster than both my other boys’ births. The pain was really no different, just a faster onset. Overall, it was the best experience I could’ve asked for. A great way for me to finish off my family by. We were both here safe. Everything was fine. I was at peace. So far my postpartum journey has been the best one yet. I kept taking my antidepressants throughout my pregnancy, I opted for “rest is best” throughout because of my veins, and I worked right up until I was very uncomfortable. Now, with Noah here I feel really happy, really motivated and absolutely no anxiety like I’ve felt in the past. I’m so grateful! 

What do you wish you knew before birth?

Just how hard it all is. I think prior to having my first son, I thought I knew it all. I had all these idealisms in my head about how I would parent and what I should expect as a first time mum. But, It was a shock to the system. I found the transition from 0-1 really tough at first because I expected so much of myself. So, I wish I could go back and just remind myself that I don't know what I am in for, and that's ok. And, to take it all as it comes and allow myself some grace and some room to learn and adjust without being so hard on myself or over-worried.

If you could, would you do anything differently?

I'd love to say "nothing". But, the truth is, I wish I had have sought help sooner, or stayed on my medication for all three boys if it meant I would feel as good as I did this time around. I look back on myself postpartum with Beau and I cry, because my heart breaks for myself because of how bad my mental health got. I am just thankful my kids were oblivious to what I was going through. 

What did your partner do that really helped during labour/birth?

Honestly, I am a hands-off type of labourer/birther. I didn't want to be touched. My husband's job was music, take photos if he could (or hand the phone to a nurse who could), and be there for the baby. As soon as the baby came out, particularly with number 1 and 3, he was by their side looking after them whilst I was being looked after from my PPHs and my sons needed extra attention. 

What advice/honest truth would give a mama-to-be about birth?

Go in without any expectations. Just ride the wave. You cannot plan for everything, but you can be informed.