This week, Tammy (from Litolmae and Lolly) shares the story of her two births. Tammy is a mother to two girls who are ten years apart in age, due to secondary infertility (read her infertility story here). Read her lovely birth story below.
I had a very difficult first birth. Fast forward ten years to Baby Number Two, and my story is shorter and much less eventful. I was now 33, and had waited eight long years for this baby; and, thanks to a very good friend for going through her wonderful hypnobirthing course with me (at no charge, I might add – what a legend, thanks Kym!), I was prepared. Even if it meant going through the same shit as the first time. However, apart from a sharp intake of breath every time my blood pressure was taken, my pregnancy was a dream.
I had a beautiful bump, I didn’t gain much weight, and I was on cloud nine most of the time. I did have shocking nausea for the first trimester, but it felt a small price to pay to have a second child. At the beginning of my third trimester, I started to get pain around my pelvis when I turned in bed, and when I sat, stood or walked for a long time. This was diagnosed by my angel of a midwife, Maxine, as symphysis pubis dysfunction; but, again, small price and all that.
At 39 weeks and 2 days, on 6 December 2012, in the middle of the night, my contractions began. I noted them down and didn’t wake Neil, as I wanted to enjoy this part of spontaneous labour that I didn’t get last time by myself, and I knew it could take a long time. By the morning, they had tailed off, so we went about our day as normal, apart from Neil staying home from work, just in case. We did the school run and things like that, and I was feeling mild contractions all day.
It wasn’t until about 7:30pm that I really started to feel them. I had the lights low, and everything was calm and quiet while I breathed each one through and my now 10-year-old daughter used her perfectly-sized fist to press into the base of my back to ease my discomfort. It really was a perfect labour. I called the maternity hospital (which was thirty-five minutes away), and they told me that they were very busy, and as my contractions were still about five minutes apart, they would have a quick check, but would probably have to send me home – helpful! So, as I was feeling a little pissed off now, Neil decided to call our local birthing centre which works with the hospital, to see if I could go there and get checked out, and save us the longer journey. They said ‘yes, of course, come on over’.
After the hospital’s less than helpful ‘we’ll probably have to send you home’ comment, the hubs felt there was no hurry, and so insisted that he finish the washing up before we left. We dropped our eldest at my parents’ place and set off. It was only eight minutes away, but as soon as I’d waved goodbye to my big girl, the pain hit. I made my frantic husband pull over on the way, as I just needed to stand. He honestly thought he would have to deliver our baby on the side of the road. I managed to drag myself back into the car, and made it round the corner to the birthing centre, on my knees facing the back of the car seat, and quite literally shitting myself on the way there.
When we got there, the midwife met us outside, she took one look at me, heard me groan and said ‘you’re not going anywhere, sweetheart’. I got in and cleaned up. She checked me and said ‘time to push, poppet’ (insert shocked face here). I could not believe I had laboured completely at home and walked in hand beneath my legs, holding my baby’s head in. Twenty minutes after arriving, a hairy moment when they lost her heartbeat and as they were about to give me an episiotomy, my second baby girl came into the world. Welcome, Elizabeth Grace, weighing 8lb 11oz of incredible, squirmy gorgeousness.
I then had the best bath of my life whilst Daddy dressed and cuddled our new bundle of joy. Just two hours after we arrived at the centre, we were back at home. Our lives were complete and we couldn’t have been happier.
It feels good to relive these precious moments. Thanks for reading.
**Originally published on Litolmae and Lolly**
Thanks so much, Tammy, for sharing your story! Stay tuned for Kate’s story, next week! (Please note that submissions for this series have closed.)
Tammy is a 38-year-old wife and mumma, living in the beautiful southwest of England.
She is (rather smugly) married to total hunk of a man – fourteen years and counting. Together, they do their best to drag up out two charming daughters: a stroppy/hilarious 14-year-old, and a wild-yet-sensitive 4-year-old.
Tammy loves being a stay-at-home mum, and posts weekly on her blog about the ever-changing journey of her life and motherhood.
Mini Mummi Blogger is a first time mummy to a beautiful baby boy. Currently on maternity leave, she is looking to put her writing/publishing experience to good use through her blog, helping other mummies navigate through the wealth of often conflicting (and, sometimes, even discouraging) information out there about pregnancy and motherhood. She believes that every mummy knows what’s best for her own baby – even first time mums!
Kate suffers from depression and anxiety, as well as having experienced recurrent miscarriage. Despite this…