The story of 'Lucy' - A birth seen through different eyes

[mumgem]

I'm completely hooked. What an amazing way to read of a labour.

[Rachie81]

me too, this is great. Sounds a little likemy partners reaction to my first birth

[Dusty]

This is too good!!!

*waits impatiently...*

[DFH's Mummy]

Wow. Your sister is soooo lucky to have you!

Hanging out for the rest!

[meggymoo]

8 am, and the epidural is turned down – you are at the magical ten centimetres. Everything becomes a calm kind of business-like, and a tangible air of importance descends on the suite, along with an extra midwife or two. The trolley, stationed in the corner of the room overnight, makes it’s long yearned for appearance at the foot of the bed. “Now, Steph, I need you to push when you feel a contraction,” instructs the middie. You nod.

And push you do. I feel myself holding my own breath, tensing up inside as I watch you scrunch up your face and give it everything. Your support team is gathered around you, chanting words of encouragement – it feels a little like a sports match as we cheer you on. You are all focus now, intent on Lucy making her way into the world. The middie steps back, as she can see you draw on your strength, finding energy you never knew you had for this last, final leg of the journey. Shane is at your head, gripping your hand, Mum on the other side. I station myself at your knee, and remembering how it had helped me bear down to have something to push against, I hold out my hand to you. “Tuck your chin to your chest and PUSH down!” I say.

“Can you see her yet?” you ask, over and over. “Is she coming?” “Soon,” we answer you. “Keep going!”. But you begin to despair of her ever coming out. “Why isn’t she coming out?” you moan. “Keep pushing!” is the answer. And I am in awe – watching as your body takes over, your whole belly tensing and your knees shaking with the effort. You are still my sister, but you are this wild creature too, almost an animal, and nature has hold of you like never before. The look on your face is utterly primal. Shane is looking at you like he has never seen your equal before. You push and push, inching closer and closer to the goal.

Of course, there are moments of comedy. You are horrified to discover that ‘other things’ have come out with all the pushing, and mortified to think that the midwives have to clean up after you! “Never mind!” sings the mid. “Happens all the time!” We are unfazed. You are amazing us all, what’s a little poop in the scheme of things?!

To add to the drama, the urge to vomit comes over you. Quickly. The bowl is dived for, and I scarper like I’ve been burned to the other side of the room. Here is my acid test. I have promised myself that my phobia will not get the better of me, and inspired by the bravery you are showing just a few feet away, I will stay in the room as you are sick. To the sounds of your retching, I chant to myself, “You can do it. This is nothing to be afraid of. I will NOT miss out on seeing my neice born because of this stupid phobia!” And then you are done. It is the first time in twenty years I have remained in the room while someone vomits. I am shaking, but I am exhilarated by my ‘acheivement’. Your courage has given me mine. I dash back to the bed, the midwives laughing at me for my silliness. I don’t mind at all, and I have earned my reward. I am ready to witness this birth, by your side.

[Jordengel]

This is amazing stuff ... I can't possibly go to bed till I've read to the end ... !!!

[Goannabanda]

OMG!!! I NEED the rest of this story before I can sleep too!!!!!

[thats.all.folks]

OMG this is awesome to read of a birth from this perspective

[xjessicax]

Oh nos, I've been suckered in, what an amazing birth story!!

[meggymoo]

(last one, girls! nearly there! )

You continue birthing – beautiful and flushed with exertion. After a few more agonising minutes, I am the first to see it. “Hair!!!” I yell, completely over the top with joy. “I can see HAIR!!”. “I don’t think so,” answers the midwife, but a closer look shows that I am right. A little head is most definitely on it’s way! I am staring at your ‘bits’, squinting for the first view of this long-awaited baby, and it’s funny but it seems the most natural thing in the world. The dignity of birth brings it’s very own, special kind of modesty. As the little head inches further forward with each push, you reach your hand down to touch your little girl. It is a priceless moment – and gives you renewed strength for the last stretch. It is ten to 9. With your last few silent, furious pushes, the tiny, chubby purple head pops out, there is a sucking in of breath and a tense pause as gloved fingers trace around the little neck, looking for cord. At long, glorious last, the slick soft body slides out and she is here, your baby is here, Lucy is here.

Someone, (you? me?) cries out “Oh!!” and there are tears bursting from all of us, all at once, and though I cannot express the delight that I feel, it is something close to what I can read on your face as your little girl is slid into place on your chest. The moment is magic, we are slapping each other like drunken footy fans, and hugging, and crying, and you in the centre of it all holding on to your precious Lucy to you for dear life. Shane is exultant, and kisses your forehead. Mum and I embrace, a long tight hug that seems to say ‘wow’ and ‘incredible’ and ‘Thank you’ and ‘Thank God!’ all at once. We pull ourselves together – there is still a few tasks to attend to – but the sensation of your success! It is a high like no other. In that moment, I have an insight into the role of midwife, how could you not become addicted to this feeling?!

Shane cuts the cord. I suggest after that that he sits down, as he looks a little wonky J. Lucy blinks and gurgles, and has a half-hearted suck at the breast, and enchants us all just by the very fact of her being there. She is none the worse for wear after your long labour, in fact, she is just about perfect. I am thanking the midwives, and getting in the way, and watching as you deliver the placenta, and photographing Lucy’s first moments and asking ridiculous questions... and just generally making a pest of myself. After checking with the med staff, I snap two photos of the in tact placenta, it is fascinating and I am sure you will want to see this afterwards. These photos, of course, are now immortalised on your Facebook page, much to everyone’s disgust! But you’ve always loved a good laugh.

The fact of your much-anguished-over ‘waters’ is discussed, and the midwives conclude that since you had so little fluid at the birth, most probably you had been leaking for a few days. (Remember that day we scattered the ashes? That must have been the start.) We laugh now, as we recount the whole dramatic labour experience over and over, filling Mum in on the early stages. You are exhausted beyond belief, but still jubilant. I am so, so proud of you.

At last, the fact of my complete sleep deprivation kicks in, and I decide to leave you in Mum’s capable care to have the epi removed, to shower and head to the ward. You can’t keep me away for long – I promise to be back up to visit in the afternoon, but for now, I am about to crash. I cry again, driving home through thick tears, and topple into bed in such a state I forget to take off my shoes. Outside, the sun is roasting down, sending the temperature into the forties.

It is Lucy’s birthday, and it will be remembered always as one of the most incredible days of both yours and my life. Thankyou my gorgeous sister, for the honour of sharing such an awesome adventure with you.

Megs xx