The Longest Day - Part Three
Quite a while ago I bought a cheap MP3 player and later had the idea of making a compilation of Michele's favourite music, classical and modern, for her to listen to during labour. Making it was fun but it turns out that it wasn't used much - only during idle moments in the early stages of labour.
Something else that was different to what we expected was the labour pains. Instead of feeling contractions in her abdominal area, Michele felt her pains in her back, around the area of the kidneys. The reason for this would become clear as the night went on but for now it remained a mystery.
Having spent the day in that room on Level 11, we had unpacked our bag and spread our things around - just as you would in a hotel. Now that we knew someone was on their way to take us up to Level 13, I rushed about, making sure everything we brought went with us.
With bag packed and ready we waited, I sat on the edge of the bed, half looking at the darkened view, half watching Michele as she paced the room - her waddling steps punctuated by contractions that almost bent her double. The only thing I can think of, from a man's perspective, that might have been similar is chronic constipation. And that's not pleasant...
At 9.50pm, a young midwife dressed in "blues" walked through the door with a wheelchair. She introduced herself as Nikki and asked if we were ready to go. As Michele arranged herself into the wheelchair and was taken from the room, I cast one last look out the window - the next time I saw daylight I could be a father...
We took the lift to Level 13 and entered a delivery room with a west-facing view. It was dark outside and dimly lit inside, projecting a calming atmosphere.
We unpacked our stuff and Michele eased herself onto the bed (an expensive one as it turns out). I plonked the bag down in the corner and tucked the car seat under the chair. I was asked if I wanted anything and minutes later Nikki returned with a tray of refreshments, including a steaming hot pot of strong coffee.
Because Michele might have to go on a drip, she was told not to drink caffeine, which left it all for me. Three cups later and I was buzzing, ready for anything.
At ante-natal classes, we'd discussed methods of pain control - Entinox ("Gas and Air"), epidural, TENS machines etc. - but we'd not really planned for anything specific. Michele decided she would go with the flow and see how she got on.
Before we really got into the swing of things, Michele had an ultrasound scan to check the foetal position. Michele was to be hooked up to a baby monitor as she had been downstairs, but Nikki had trouble finding the heartbeat. The U/S scan was done by a Oriental Doctor (more of whom we would see later on) and showed that the baby was still fine, but at an odd angle. Turned out that the baby's spine was parallel to Michele's, which might cause extra pain during delivery.
After several "internal examinations", we were left to it for the moment. Michele's contractions were coming on hard and fast now, and she was making friends with the Entinox. It was basically a complex-looking mouthpiece joined to the cylinder and everytime she breathed through it she sounded like Darth Vader or a deep sea diver. Nikki was soon back and, after a brief chat with Michele it was decided that we would go for a natural birth, with just Entinox to relieve the pain (for now).
The next hour or so had Michele getting into her contractions which began to get very uncomfortable and difficult to watch. She was putting her breathing exercises into practice, but coupled with the mouthpiece, she sounded like she was groaning in pain through a muffled microphone. And as the pain increased, the more she used the Entinox, and the more she became as high as a kite.
It was weird - one moment she was writhing around on the bed in agony then, when the contraction passed and I was there sponging ice-cold water onto her brow and neck, she was looking around dazed and confused. When Nikki asked if she was ok she replied "I feel pissed!" and smiled drearily at me. Her eyes were heavy and she blinked slowly, smacking her dry lips. I was on hand with a paper cup of cold water which she drank through a straw - a straw which I positioned in her mouth.
Things were getting surreal as the hours wore on and I slowly passed through the barriers of tiredness then over-tiredness, catching my "second wind". Contractions were still coming thick and fast and, at 11.10pm, Michele's waters were artificially burst.
Standing there watching Michele writhe in agony was something I wasn't fully prepared for, and it shocked me to see a loved one in such pain. I knew it had to happen - I had seen plenty of "births" on TV where they scream their lungs out, but this was different. This was my Michele.
Something occurred to me during that time - my child could be born soon, and would have the 31st May as a birthday. Part of me was hoping that he/she would hang on for a few more hours - the 1st June just sounded easier to say and remember!
Nikki the midwife was with Michele all throughout, on hand with words of encouragement. Michele was turned this way and that through different positions - first on her back, then on her front grasping the front of the bed (which had been raised), then on her back again. Because the baby had his/her spine parallel to Michele's, it was causing extra stress but some light relief came when Michele, on all fours, let out a belter of a burp. Better out than in...
At 1.10am, Nikki suddenly told us that Michele was fully dilated, which for some reason was surprisingly soon. Michele's legs were hooked up into stirrups either side of the bottom of the bed now. It seemed that we were on the home stretch...
As she pushed and pushed, something dark and hairy appeared - the baby's head! I went "down there" to get a good look and was dumbstruck to see wavy black hair, matted to the top of the head with blood and fluids, but there nevertheless. I was convinced that I was going to cry when the baby was born, but I wasn't moved at all when I saw the top of the head - just curious, and mildy spaced out.
Talking of which, Michele was on another planet now, thanks to the effects of the Entinox. She smiled drunkenly at me with heavy eyes that had given up trying to focus.
"Do you want to feel the head?" Nikki asked Michele. "No!" came the slurred answer.
"Come on, push! I don't want anyone else in here!" said Nikki time and again. She was determined to help Michele deliver naturally, but was on a losing streak. It was just gone 3.00am and exhaustion was starting to kick in. Michele was pushing as hard as she could, but the head wasn't coming out any further.
Resigning herself to the fact that it would be an assisted birth, Nikki left to get help. As she did, I looked at my Michele lying there in pain, and choked back a tear. She was doing so well but had become so tired. I was incredibly proud of her and, as I stroked her hair, felt a great love for her.
The male doctors that we had seen before came in, and filled the room with machines and crash trolleys - just in case. As they were preparing to set things up for a Ventous (basically a suction cap to pull the baby out), there was a surprise - Michele had suddenly found another ounce of strength and had started pushing again.
Suddenly the head appeared. It was pointing downwards and looked misshapen, but it was there. Our baby's head!
I remember where everyone was for the next part; I was standing to Michele's left, Nikki and a doctor were helping the head to come out at the bottom of the bed, the other midwife and doctor were to Michele's right. Behind me, the first feeble lights of a new day were beginning to creep into the room.
"Go on!!" shouted Nikki.
Michele pushed.
A baby was born.
It just... appeared there. One second I saw the head, the next, the whole body was out, drooping feebly. Nikki and the doctors immediately checked the baby out.
"Is it alright..?" Michele gasped. "What is it?"
I looked and caught sight of genitals. The words I had practised saying in my mind a thousand times burst out for real; "It's a boy!"
The tiny body was handed to me and I placed him gently on Michele's stomach. As I did so, I softly said "Hello Harry"... and was completely overcome. I cried without sobbing, looking at our baby son, my vision blurred with warm, salty tears. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and pride and love like nothing I've ever felt before filled me to bursting. I gave Michele a grateful kiss. She was emotional as well and, despite her extreme exhaustion, wore a warm glow in her cheeks as she smiled at me and her child. She had done it.
I looked at the tiny body of this brand new innocent life, still connected to the inside of Michele, and tried to come to terms with what had just happened. In an instant, my entire world had been turned upside down. Somehow I remembered to ask a midwife if she would take some pictures. What she captured will tell you more about how we felt at that moment than any amount of words I could write...
Something else that was different to what we expected was the labour pains. Instead of feeling contractions in her abdominal area, Michele felt her pains in her back, around the area of the kidneys. The reason for this would become clear as the night went on but for now it remained a mystery.
Having spent the day in that room on Level 11, we had unpacked our bag and spread our things around - just as you would in a hotel. Now that we knew someone was on their way to take us up to Level 13, I rushed about, making sure everything we brought went with us.
With bag packed and ready we waited, I sat on the edge of the bed, half looking at the darkened view, half watching Michele as she paced the room - her waddling steps punctuated by contractions that almost bent her double. The only thing I can think of, from a man's perspective, that might have been similar is chronic constipation. And that's not pleasant...
At 9.50pm, a young midwife dressed in "blues" walked through the door with a wheelchair. She introduced herself as Nikki and asked if we were ready to go. As Michele arranged herself into the wheelchair and was taken from the room, I cast one last look out the window - the next time I saw daylight I could be a father...
We took the lift to Level 13 and entered a delivery room with a west-facing view. It was dark outside and dimly lit inside, projecting a calming atmosphere.
We unpacked our stuff and Michele eased herself onto the bed (an expensive one as it turns out). I plonked the bag down in the corner and tucked the car seat under the chair. I was asked if I wanted anything and minutes later Nikki returned with a tray of refreshments, including a steaming hot pot of strong coffee.
Because Michele might have to go on a drip, she was told not to drink caffeine, which left it all for me. Three cups later and I was buzzing, ready for anything.
At ante-natal classes, we'd discussed methods of pain control - Entinox ("Gas and Air"), epidural, TENS machines etc. - but we'd not really planned for anything specific. Michele decided she would go with the flow and see how she got on.
Before we really got into the swing of things, Michele had an ultrasound scan to check the foetal position. Michele was to be hooked up to a baby monitor as she had been downstairs, but Nikki had trouble finding the heartbeat. The U/S scan was done by a Oriental Doctor (more of whom we would see later on) and showed that the baby was still fine, but at an odd angle. Turned out that the baby's spine was parallel to Michele's, which might cause extra pain during delivery.
After several "internal examinations", we were left to it for the moment. Michele's contractions were coming on hard and fast now, and she was making friends with the Entinox. It was basically a complex-looking mouthpiece joined to the cylinder and everytime she breathed through it she sounded like Darth Vader or a deep sea diver. Nikki was soon back and, after a brief chat with Michele it was decided that we would go for a natural birth, with just Entinox to relieve the pain (for now).
The next hour or so had Michele getting into her contractions which began to get very uncomfortable and difficult to watch. She was putting her breathing exercises into practice, but coupled with the mouthpiece, she sounded like she was groaning in pain through a muffled microphone. And as the pain increased, the more she used the Entinox, and the more she became as high as a kite.
It was weird - one moment she was writhing around on the bed in agony then, when the contraction passed and I was there sponging ice-cold water onto her brow and neck, she was looking around dazed and confused. When Nikki asked if she was ok she replied "I feel pissed!" and smiled drearily at me. Her eyes were heavy and she blinked slowly, smacking her dry lips. I was on hand with a paper cup of cold water which she drank through a straw - a straw which I positioned in her mouth.
Things were getting surreal as the hours wore on and I slowly passed through the barriers of tiredness then over-tiredness, catching my "second wind". Contractions were still coming thick and fast and, at 11.10pm, Michele's waters were artificially burst.
Standing there watching Michele writhe in agony was something I wasn't fully prepared for, and it shocked me to see a loved one in such pain. I knew it had to happen - I had seen plenty of "births" on TV where they scream their lungs out, but this was different. This was my Michele.
Something occurred to me during that time - my child could be born soon, and would have the 31st May as a birthday. Part of me was hoping that he/she would hang on for a few more hours - the 1st June just sounded easier to say and remember!
Nikki the midwife was with Michele all throughout, on hand with words of encouragement. Michele was turned this way and that through different positions - first on her back, then on her front grasping the front of the bed (which had been raised), then on her back again. Because the baby had his/her spine parallel to Michele's, it was causing extra stress but some light relief came when Michele, on all fours, let out a belter of a burp. Better out than in...
At 1.10am, Nikki suddenly told us that Michele was fully dilated, which for some reason was surprisingly soon. Michele's legs were hooked up into stirrups either side of the bottom of the bed now. It seemed that we were on the home stretch...
As she pushed and pushed, something dark and hairy appeared - the baby's head! I went "down there" to get a good look and was dumbstruck to see wavy black hair, matted to the top of the head with blood and fluids, but there nevertheless. I was convinced that I was going to cry when the baby was born, but I wasn't moved at all when I saw the top of the head - just curious, and mildy spaced out.
Talking of which, Michele was on another planet now, thanks to the effects of the Entinox. She smiled drunkenly at me with heavy eyes that had given up trying to focus.
"Do you want to feel the head?" Nikki asked Michele. "No!" came the slurred answer.
"Come on, push! I don't want anyone else in here!" said Nikki time and again. She was determined to help Michele deliver naturally, but was on a losing streak. It was just gone 3.00am and exhaustion was starting to kick in. Michele was pushing as hard as she could, but the head wasn't coming out any further.
Resigning herself to the fact that it would be an assisted birth, Nikki left to get help. As she did, I looked at my Michele lying there in pain, and choked back a tear. She was doing so well but had become so tired. I was incredibly proud of her and, as I stroked her hair, felt a great love for her.
The male doctors that we had seen before came in, and filled the room with machines and crash trolleys - just in case. As they were preparing to set things up for a Ventous (basically a suction cap to pull the baby out), there was a surprise - Michele had suddenly found another ounce of strength and had started pushing again.
Suddenly the head appeared. It was pointing downwards and looked misshapen, but it was there. Our baby's head!
I remember where everyone was for the next part; I was standing to Michele's left, Nikki and a doctor were helping the head to come out at the bottom of the bed, the other midwife and doctor were to Michele's right. Behind me, the first feeble lights of a new day were beginning to creep into the room.
"Go on!!" shouted Nikki.
Michele pushed.
A baby was born.
It just... appeared there. One second I saw the head, the next, the whole body was out, drooping feebly. Nikki and the doctors immediately checked the baby out.
"Is it alright..?" Michele gasped. "What is it?"
I looked and caught sight of genitals. The words I had practised saying in my mind a thousand times burst out for real; "It's a boy!"
The tiny body was handed to me and I placed him gently on Michele's stomach. As I did so, I softly said "Hello Harry"... and was completely overcome. I cried without sobbing, looking at our baby son, my vision blurred with warm, salty tears. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and pride and love like nothing I've ever felt before filled me to bursting. I gave Michele a grateful kiss. She was emotional as well and, despite her extreme exhaustion, wore a warm glow in her cheeks as she smiled at me and her child. She had done it.
I looked at the tiny body of this brand new innocent life, still connected to the inside of Michele, and tried to come to terms with what had just happened. In an instant, my entire world had been turned upside down. Somehow I remembered to ask a midwife if she would take some pictures. What she captured will tell you more about how we felt at that moment than any amount of words I could write...
posted by Mark Powell | 9:30 PM
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