A week before my planned cesarean, and two weeks before my due date, I started to get a lot of pain. I felt I was unlikely to go into labour early as I was two days over with my first so I figured the pain was just Braxton hicks. At my last appointment with the midwife I asked her about the pain I was in - extreme lower back pain and bad nerve-type pain when I walked and contractions seemed to be happening often but weren't regular. The midwife told me that the pains sounded like 'head fitting pain' – the pain of the baby's head getting lower into my pelvis. Despite my previous irregular contractions with my first labour I still opted to trust a professional over my own instincts. It probably sounds silly to you but I have no idea how to take my own pain seriously. I have learnt to deal with pain - both physically and emotionally - by trying to squash it, as though it was some kind of weakness. I walked the mile long walk home with my 3 year old, stopping every few minutes to deal with the pain.
The day went on and the pain got worse, but the contractions did not seem to follow any pattern. The pain also felt a very different pain compared to my first born's - much lower down and pelvic, as opposed to higher, more period-like pain. I rang the hospital triage about it to see if I could be examined and they told me it sounded like head-fitting pain too. Two professionals, who was I to doubt them?
So I battled on through the night, taking cocodamol and using breathing techniques to cope with the pain. What the hell is this 'head fitting pain'? And how come no one told me about it before?! I didn't get much sleep but once I was up the pain eased a little and I felt relieved that I would probably be able to have my elective cesarean as planned. But things soon heated up again. I tried to time these so called contractions but got frustrated and gave up because they were all over the place - roughly every five minutes but didn't seem to be getting longer or closer together. The pain was so intense though and I was mentally feeling like I couldn't take much more - how long was this going to go on for? No one seemed to be able to tell me. I rang another midwife for advice. Yep, head fitting pain. They all must have some sort of handbook on head fitting pain and who was I to doubt them?
By the second evening I was close to tears and exhausted at the thought of another sleepless night. I tried ringing the labour police again (aka. triage) but no reply. I decided that I was going into hospital no matter what, they'd at least be able to refer me to page twenty four in the head fitting pain handbook, telling me when the appropriate times to question symptoms and waste hospital time were.
On arrival I was directed into a waiting room and told do a urine sample. There's something about medical surroundings that make my body react; my contractions slowed right down again and I couldn't even pee in a pot. What pregnant lady can't pee in a pot?! I may as well have had hyperchondriac stamped on my forehead. I looked down at my belly and convinced myself that, yes, I was in fact pregnant, and quite possibly in labour. Once I'd been taken to be examined the little monitoring machine showed a graph which measured my contractions. And there it was on a bit of paper: Science. I felt like taking it and framing it on my bathroom wall for the next time I considered avoiding going to the doctors. Science says I should trust my body.
It turns out I was 7cm dilated. Ring any bells? Yes, the exact same thing as with my first born. Each medic I saw questioned my decision for a cesarean - "do you not want to try for a natural delivery now?" As though 30 hours of labour had really sold it to me again. No, thank you. I somehow knew I would not be able to deliver naturally. But as each person asked I grew slightly weaker. I've come this far, maybe I should continue? Maybe going into labour naturally was a sign I should deliver naturally too? Neil started to speak for me, knowing I would be deluded with thoughts of what I should be doing instead of what's right for me. I started to feel anxious, wondering how long the pain would last and whether there'd even be time for a cesarean. And that's when something amazing happened for me; a word of encouragement at just the right time.
During my appointments with my psychologist, she gave me a number of exercises in order to help me to deal with post traumatic stress from my first birth. She gave me cognitive behavioural therapy techniques and meditation exercises in order to deal with stressful situations more effectively. One of these exercises was to develop my 'compassionate self' - in other words, to learn to be kind to myself and override the critical thoughts that I have about myself. She told me I needed to imagine a compassionate figure in these meditations and to record what positive words of affirmation the figure had. I opted for an angel: a muscular, tall, protective angel. I felt a little stupid imagining this figure standing there and listening to what he said, but it helped to have an image to refer to that would calm me in times of anxiety.
One time the angel showed me a picture in my head of a huge storm at sea. I felt quite scared by this image as the waves crashed and did nothing to ease my anxiety. Then he took me to the eye of the storm - a place where I was still surrounded by chaos but almost encased in a room of glass, looking out and protected. The angel told me that I was not exempt from pain but that I could be protected within it, that I somehow did not have to carry the weight of it - that was not my responsibility.
So in the midst of labour, when I was laid in pain and wondering how long this was going to go on for, I received a message from a friend. Not knowing anything of my 'imaginary angel,' she sent me a message after finding out I was in labour and it gave me a sort of inner strength at just the right moment. She said "I'm praying you know peace in the middle of all that's happening. It's like you're in the eye of a storm." I immediately felt calm, as though there was a tangible presence next to me. Who knows if there was really an angel, or if I was high on drugs, but something changed after that.
So, thanks to the help of a friend, an angel, and a shot of diamorphine, I felt all the tension go and an excitement that I have not felt in a long time. I was close to meeting my baby – the baby I very nearly didn't have due to my fears. I was wheeled to theatre, my heart's desire – though in reality I had no heart for any of it, just a baby at the end. Neil was asked to leave theatre until they were ready to operate. It felt strange to be given a spinal when I was not delirious with pain like my first birth – It all felt very sane, 'normal' in fact. Neil was invited back in as though we were in fact there for a tv show, under the bright lights the stage was set. Neil held my hand.
There seemed to be a lot more tugging and pulling than last time - I think my memories of the first cesarean are distorted by the fact that being out of pain was all I cared about at the time. Now all I cared about was the whole thing being over as quickly as possible. I tried to overhear what the surgeons were uttering. Was the baby ok? Was my anatomy in order? Would they be kind enough to give me a nip and tuck while they were at it?
I remember the moment my firstborn was delivered: the deepest tug from the pit of my womb and an unforgettable cry. This time there was lots of tugging about, feeling my whole body vibrate with each tussle, as though they were in some sort of tug of war with the baby. It turns out they were because fourceps had to be used to remove him as he was stuck deep in my womb. I now know that having a cesarean was a very good decision indeed - this labour would not have progressed and would have resulted in a cesarean anyway.
Eventually feint gargled cries could be heard. They took him for checks and I waited while they told me it would take about thirty minutes to stitch me back up. Eventually Neil brought him to me and I strained my head to get a look at him. I could just about make out his tiny little face: his beautiful, beautiful face. And he was talking to me; making little noises at me. It's quite an incredible thing to meet your baby for the first time.
My birth was not pain free; I felt misunderstood; I felt overwhelmed at times. But, to quote the Kung Fu Panda, I felt an 'inner peace' throughout it all. My birth was far from perfect, but the things I've learnt from it have been invaluable. The name we had already chosen for our baby was Freddie; his name means "Rules with peace." He is a lesson to me to choose peace over anxiety - to let it 'rule' over me despite my circumstances.
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