Part 2 of 2: Labour and Birth

The first day in King Eddy was probably the worst. When you’re told that baby’s survival chances are greatly enhanced by you not giving birth for 2 days, but for those 2 days you’re going to have contractions, it becomes a rather delicate and anxious situation. Courtesy of the epidural, Robs could only feel the stronger contractions, so each time one of those came along we both had the “Uh oh this might be it, please don’t let this be it” thoughts run through our minds. Robs wasn’t to be left in the room by herself, as it was essential that someone was there to activate the code call should the need arise, so between myself and the rotating midwives it was always ensured that someone was in there.

The other hard bit to digest was what would we do if indeed baby decided to come out in those first 2 days. The various scenarios were carefully explained to us by the consultant obstetrician. Everything from ‘at what point do we undergo an emergency caesarean’ to ‘if baby’s head becomes stuck we’ll need to make a cut in the cervix immediately’ was discussed. It’s fair to say that the first day left us both emotionally drained, and more than a tear or two were shed.

After a sleepless night – for Robs due to ongoing contractions and nurse observations and for me due to the crummy mattress on the floor (I know who had it worse) – we greeted the obstetrician on the second day, who expressed her happiness for Robs still being in one piece. In terms of those lung-fortifying-steroids, it was 24 hours down, 24 hours to go. The message this time? Don’t do anything different! Again, we were told that a baby appearing in the next hour wouldn’t surprise anybody but hey, we’d rode our luck thus far so let’s all hope that we haven’t used it all up just yet. So it was another day of lying and waiting, punctuated by those panicky “Uh oh” moments.

Throughout the whole episode, the staff were amazing. I know Robs appreciated the support and friendship of all the nurses who helped her through those extremely difficult times. Robs was especially touched that almost every midwife that did a shift with us came back the next day to check how she was, even when they were working in a totally different part of the hospital. From my point of view, all the superlatives of praise that are bestowed upon our public health workers from time to time are completely justified.

So again, another sleepless night, but most importantly another birth-less night. When that magical 48^th hour officially ticked past on the third morning a wave of relief washed over us; Of course, we both knew there were no guarantees in any of this, but at least bub would have the best chance possible. Now the extra time gained in the womb would just help baby be that little bit stronger when she decided to arrive – 172 days in utero is a wee bit better than 171 days, which in turn is better than 170 days, which is… etc.

So on Day 3, we almost had a false sense of ‘this isn’t so bad’ about us. I think Robs even half joked that if she had to lie there for another month, well, sobeit. Day 3 duly turned into night 3, and with still no new arrival we were feeling more optimistic about baby’s chance of survival.

The confounding factor, however, was always how smoothly would the birth go. Baby was in the breech position, and the plan was to go through a vaginal delivery. If she became stuck, or required excess manoeuvring to be extricated, that ubiquitous percentage would tumble towards the unwanted end of the scale. A smooth delivery, however, would give us the best possible chance of the most positive outcome.

On the fourth morning, as on each of the others, the obstetrician congratulated Robs for holding on, and then performed the scan. With baby occupying the vagina from her waist down, it was decided that we should prepare for birth today, for it would be better to have the paediatricians in the room so intubation and ventilation could occur without delay. “I’ll see you at 10:30”, the obst said.

10:30am rolled around, and the doctors started to trickle into the room. The plan was simple – turn down the epidural, administer oxytocin (to bring on stronger contractions) and tilt the bed at a slight downward angle. Then wait. An hour of contractions went by, each time Robs trying to describe how it felt/where the pressure was, and then the ultrasound being applied for confirmation of exactly where baby was. With 10 doctors and nurses in the room, all of whom had multiple duties to attend to, the obst decided it would be OK if Robs gave a push during her next contraction. She duly obliged, and all of a sudden, the waters broke with a splat. Then one minute later, on the next push/contraction, a tiny, pink, slimey and gorgeous little thing was taken by the doctor and whisked over to the mobile ventilator where she was attended to by a group of fabulous professionals. Little Lucy had been brought into the world.

After 80 hours in limbo, the birth could not have been any more perfect. And after 80 hours of toughing it out, I’d never been prouder of my wife.