When meg met lars
A story that embodies the unpredictable yet rewarding path of giving birth, and that everything is worth it in the end.
Meg tells her birth story in her own words…
From the minute I got pregnant, I was confident I was going to give birth early. I am not sure if it was intuition, manifestation or a refusal to be pregnant any longer than I had to be but I wasn’t surprised when my waters broke at 37 weeks and 4 days.
The night they broke the Matildas had just played another stressful soccer match, I’d been out for curry with my parents and bounced on the exercise ball for a few hours (who knows if any helped or they all did). At midnight I woke up to go to the bathroom and just as I was about to get back into bed, I felt a strange tearing sensation and then a gush down my legs.
I woke up my partner, who fetched me a towel, and we promptly called the hospital. After asking us a few questions, they told us to sit tight and stay at home until my contractions started and were closer together or until I no longer felt comfortable at home. If nothing happened, I was to go into the hospital the next morning around 11am.
My contractions started about 10 minutes after that call. So while my partner tried to get some rest, I watched reality TV, sipped on water and rode the waves of contractions that, at that stage, felt like bad period cramps. I assured myself our son would be here in no time (how wrong I was).
Around 6am the contractions were beginning to hurt a lot more. My whole body was tensing and reality TV was no longer taking the edge off. My partner was up and getting us ready to go to the hospital. It was around 7am, with 3 contractions happening every 10-15 minutes, I decided I didn’t want to be home anymore. On reflection, I wished I’d stayed at home a bit longer.
At the hospital we left our bags in the car (as advised by the midwives) and were taken into a suite. It happened to be the same suite we’d been shown at our birthing classes and for some reason that made me feel comfortable and safe. The midwife explained they’d monitor me for a bit and if they thought I was doing okay, they may send me home with sleeping pills and to labour for a bit longer. I remember thinking ‘there is no way I am going home.’ Thankfully, after monitoring me for 10 minutes or so they told my partner to go get our bags!
The next few hours were difficult but also what I envisaged giving birth would look like. We had a beautiful midwife who made the room as comfortable as possible (a salt lamp, music and dim lighting). I was very keen on trying the bath so she got that set up for me. For the next few hours I moved between the bath, bed and shower while trying to practice my breathing and ride the wave of intense contractions. It wasn’t easy but we were feeling calm and confident our little guy was on his way.
By the time we hit the afternoon, I was getting pretty exhausted and while I was trying to drink water it was getting harder and harder to keep it down. I’d vomited twice by this point so had no fuel in my body. The midwife decided it was time to check my dilation and when she did, I could just tell it wasn’t great. She called in the head midwife who also felt and told us I was only 4cm and the baby was posterior.
Once I heard all this, I felt so deflated. My mental walls were slipping and the contractions were becoming extremely frequent (every minute to minute and a half). Just as I was considering asking for an epidural the doctor on call came in. She explained that my body had been working hard for a long time and she recommended an epidural and inducing me to get everything moving. My partner and I immediately agreed.
An epidural was never what I planned but the medical team had made me feel so safe and heard that day, it was a relief to have them offer it to me. However, I didn’t quite realise it can take a while for them to organise it. Once I knew I was getting an epidural, I very quickly let my mental barriers fall. My contractions were intense at this stage and the epidural was still an hour away - I think this was the hardest time of my labour. All the sayings were flying through my head ‘I can’t do this’, ‘I want to go home’ and ‘this is so effing painful’.
My partner was a rock during this time. Feeding me water, playing music, rubbing my back, making me laugh and encouraging me.
When the epidural was finally administered I felt so much relief. My body was exhausted and having the break to drink water, eat food and refuel physically and mentally was amazing. They had also given me inducing drugs so I was hopefully dilating further.
After I’d had the epidural in for 2 hours or so, the midwives came in to do a dilation check. There was a student nurse there, so the registered midwife checked my dilation first and didn’t say anything to let the student have a go. As the student felt around, the midwife said ‘what is the dilation?’ and the student was silent for a long time… she looked confused and I was holding my breath thinking I was still 4cm. Then she suddenly went, ‘omg, there is no cervix, she is fully dilated.'
My partner and I beamed at each other. They told us they would let our baby move down a bit further but in an hour or two we would start pushing. ‘Phew’, I said to myself, ‘I am going to meet my baby in an hour or sooner’ (how wrong I was - again).
When I finally started pushing, it all felt pretty simple! Obviously, I couldn’t feel much with the epidural so the midwives were trying to help and direct me where to push while my partner held a leg or shouted encouragement from the sidelines. I was optimistic my son would be out in no time. As time went on I saw the midwives staring at each other with worried expressions. Even though I couldn’t feel a lot, the pushing was becoming exhausting and difficult.
After 2 hours of pushing and various hands in my body to try to move our baby around and help him over the pelvis, the doctor came in and explained to my partner and I that it had been 19 hours since my waters broke and we were getting to the point where it could be harmful to me and the baby if I kept going. She explained that our next step was to get down to theatre. She said the surgeon would check to see if he thought forceps / vacuum could be used and if not I’d need a c-section. She said it was our decision and she was happy to let me keep pushing for a bit longer if we wanted.
At this point, to be honest, I was so past caring how it happened and was just desperate to meet my baby. I didn’t even feel disappointed or upset. It probably helped that I was slightly delirious and high. My partner and I decided getting down to theatre was the best option. We were prepared quickly - my partner was put in scrubs and I was given more pain relief through the epidural. Once we were in the surgery, the surgeon told us he thought forceps could be used.
I remember being in the bright and crowded room, looking to my left and seeing the forceps and quickly closing my eyes. I didn’t want to know how they looked or see anything the surgeon was doing. When he put the forceps in my body, I felt an intense pressure and scraping sensation but thankfully, there was no pain. At this stage, I kept my eyes closed and went into myself more than I ever have. My prime focus was listening to my partner, the surgeon and midwife telling me to push and then putting every piece of energy behind it.
After the surgeon tried pulling our baby out a few times with the forceps, I heard him say ‘okay, I am going to try to pull one more time and if this doesn’t work, we need to prep for c-section.’ I remember thinking to myself, ‘no way, that can’t happen’. When everyone in the room yelled at me to push, I mustered up everything I could, buoyed by the encouragement of every single person around me.
I wasn't aware of this at the time, but my partner told me later he and the midwife were pulling my arms up while two doctors held my legs up and the surgeon pulled in the opposite direction with the forceps.
After this final push, my eyes tightly closed, I heard my partner say, ‘Meg, Meg, his head is out.’ I can not explain the relief and exhilaration I felt in that moment. After another push, my baby boy's body was out and I remember hearing his cry straight away. I finally felt like I could open my eyes and I saw our baby boy, Lars.
Sadly, due to the coldness of the theatre he had to be all bundled up so we could only do skin to skin on our cheeks. But after I was stitched up and in recovery, my partner and I got to do all the lovely parts, including skin to skin, weighing him and naming him. It was so surreal to finally have Lars in our arms.
It was not the birth I pictured and in many ways, alot went wrong but the support and encouragement of the midwives and doctors made me feel safe every step of the way. My partner was my rock, he was my advocate and confidant. And Lars was worth every minute.
What do you wish you knew before birth?
That birth is much more than a physical experience, being in a good headspace and managing your mental exhaustion is just as important.
If you could, would you do anything differently?
I’d eat and drink a lot more when my waters broke and before my contractions got worse to try to nourish my body as much as possible. In the end, it wasn't the contractions that were the hardest part, it was the lack of fuel in my body and being mentally exhausted.
What did your partner do that really helped during labour/birth?
Steadfast encouragement and support, he was my partner in every sense of the word. I love to laugh, and he kept my spirits high throughout the process. He also never made me doubt I could do it or let his emotions cloud my experience, he told me after how terrified he was when we were in theatre and that he felt so scared for me and the baby, but he never gave that away.
On a lighter note, the midwife showed him this awesome trick of holding my hips and pushing when the contractions came on - absolute lifesaver!
What advice/honest truth would give a mama-to-be about birth?
It probably won’t go to plan or the way you envisaged it and that’s okay! The minute you see your beautiful bubba, the birth suddenly seems distant and like a tiny blip in what is a huge adventure.