It’s a Boy!

After what can be described as a somewhat stressful pregnancy and labour with our first baby, we got in to the groove of being Mommy and Daddy and were enjoying our existence as a family of three. We always planned on having more children, and then sadly suffered a miscarriage when Jellybean had just turned one (more about this in my post, Sorry: There’s No Heartbeat). I fell pregnant again six months later. I was a lot more worried this time around after experiencing the loss. Rob worked full time as a car sales executive and I worked part time as a primary school teacher; this time of our lives was pretty stressful. Our daughter was the perfect first child though: full of personality, bright as a button and really bloody cute. We genuinely counted our blessings every day and despite our anxiety of growing another healthy baby, the pregnancy was pretty lovely.

The birth of our son was a dream. I mean, please don’t be fooled. It hurt like Hell. BUT, in comparison, my labour experiences were worlds apart and I would fully encourage anyone who has had a traumatic birth to not be put off; in our experience at least, each child comes in to the world in their own way and each birth is unique. You do have to take what other people say with a pinch of salt though, as we were told by numerous medical staff as well as family and friends that second babies usually come out quicker and the labour process would be shorter. I held on to this. They lied.

Three days before he was born (we didn’t find out he was a he until birth, and it was just as lovely a surprise as the first time round), I began experiencing on/off contractions. Thinking we would be on the straight and narrow within a few hours we got excited, only to be proved wrong as my contractions then just went all over the place for the next two days. Maybe it was Braxton Hicks, but they felt real to me and as I had been through this before I was sure I knew my own body better..

I went in to full labour, regular contractions and all, on the morning of the third day. This was Christmas Day, and also Rob’s birthday!! What are the chances?!! After dropping Jellybean off to my Mom’s we arrived at the birthing unit at around 8am. It was a million times less stressful than being at the busy, beeping hospital from the previous experience, and all being well we were going to have a water birth. After examination I was told I was 2-3cm dilated (I think at this point I realised I had once again jumped the gun a bit) and was given a TENS machine and returned home for a couple of hours so that we could open Jellybean’s Christmas presents with her.

The TENS machine was a great help, and when we returned the the birthing unit in the afternoon the labour had progressed nicely and I got in to the birthing pool. There were twinkling lights on the ceiling that resembled In the Night Garden, I was on gas and air and given sips of Lucozade (which I later threw up; nice) and we even had a playlist of lovely, calm songs like I’m Yours by Jason Mraz and Autumn Leaves by Ed Sheeran. The midwife got all the apparatus out ready for the birth that was surely going to be happening within the next couple of hours.

Roughly four hours passed by. I was encouraged to get out of the pool as the water can sometimes slow things down, and when I did stand up I was in instant agony so only managed about two minutes walking around. I tried bouncing on a birthing ball but it made me want to throw it at Rob’s head so I got back in the pool and began to feel worthless. I realised during this labour that I always get to a point where I cry and feel like I can’t do it any more. I think I sobbed to Rob saying that it wasn’t the epidural’s fault when we had Mollie and that I was just not capable of birthing a child on my own. I may have asked for ALL the drugs. He tried to cheer me up by sucking on the gas and air and sounded like Darth Vadar but all it made me want to do was strangle him with the wire.

Anyway. Eventually, my waters broke and not long after I had the urge to push. Bud’s head was delivered and whilst this paints a very awkward, very personal image it was a completely surreal, beautiful moment. He was still fast asleep, peaceful, blissfully unaware of the goings on around him. We realised at this point that he had been lying diagonally, therefore his shoulders had basically been wedged at my hips, which explained why it had taken so long to get him out, and also why I had been getting a shooting pain down my right leg with every contraction that made me look like I was trying to impersonate Elvis. His head had to be kept under water, and after another few pushes the rest of him was delivered and we saw he was a boy!!

We had a gorgeous, healthy, 8lb 3oz son. An absolutely perfect Christmas present for us all and birthday present for Rob. (He was actually the first baby born that day at that birthing suite and we made it into the local paper!). Our baby was checked over, Rob went out of the room to do the exciting “He’s here and it’s a he!” calls. I was helped out of the birthing pool and basically just left a trail of blood across the room. The pool resembled a scene out of a horror movie and then the fun began..getting out the pesky placenta. Eventually it was coaxed out and as I was being stitched up, Rob returned skipping and joyful until he caught sight of the state of me and the room, at which point he turned slightly green and looked like he might need a sit down.

After a short clean up we were moved in to a room and spent the night together as a three - unlike with Jellybean’s birth, they let Rob stay with us. He slept soundly on a pull out bed because he’d had an ordeal of a day and I spent most of the night feeding and cuddling our newborn because I produced the milk and can seemingly push out a small human from my body and then survive on twelve minutes of sleep.

We went home the following morning, Jellybean met her little brother, and we continued our lives as the proud parents of two lovely little humans.