Clarissa Benton — Tara’s Birth Story

2-Week overdue hospital birth of Tara

I was one week overdue, sitting in my midwife's office, discussing induction and feeling disappointed. I had been so excited to experience natural labour. For me, it was the next adventure after all the fun things I had given up in the past four months. I was happiest climbing mountains or running, and this was going to be my next physical challenge. But all good trips need plan Bs (and Cs and Ds), so we sat in her office that day and mapped out a plan to keep me and my baby safe and give me the best chance of experiencing a natural birth.

I tried every trick in the book to bring on labour - sex, acupuncture, homoeopathy, pineapple, hot curry. I even sat on the washing machine when it was on spin cycle! I went for regular scans to ensure that the baby was well and still surrounded by plenty of amniotic fluid.

My first contraction came at lunchtime in Countdown, and I was elated as I breathed through the contractions and collected my groceries. I hopped back into the car and adjusted the towels that had been on the seat waiting for my "waters to break" for the last six weeks. I laboured at home for eight hours, and then the contractions petered out, and so, disappointed, I went to bed.

My contractions settled into the same frustrating pattern for the next three days. They would start at lunchtime and peter out after 8 pm. I found that if I bounced on my yoga ball to music, I could keep them coming.

So, the night before the planned induction, feeling tired and emotional and a bit desperate, I stayed up all night bouncing. Finally, I snuggled up in bed with my husband, and we both cried. We talked about his fears, that he was worried I was too focused on plan A. I was able to let go of some of my fixations and accepted that Plan B, C, and D were still good plans.

Disappointed and resigned, I arrived at the hospital at 9 am to be induced. The midwife examined me and said, "Oh, you are 5 cm dilated! We cannot induce you - you are too far gone!" Delighted, we discussed the options and decided that she would break my waters to speed up labour.

We set up the room with our belongings, including the birth pool, bedding, pillows, beanbag, birthing ball, computer, speakers, and food for my husband. It was warm and dark in the labour room, the rain was lashing the windows outside, and the midwife had pulled the curtains and closed all the doors. I felt snug and safe with all my things around me. And then it happened - my first real contraction. I realised that all the previous ones had been pretend, weak, puny, or fake. I had wondered if they were the real thing, but there was no mistaking this one. It was like a freight train - the power was intense! I groaned, and my husband and midwife helped me into the pool.

After the initial shock of intensity, I was able to settle into my contractions, focusing on each one at a time. During each wave, my husband pressed on the acupressure spots we had marked on my back, and I breathed and moaned and focused intently on the little blue fish on the side of the pool. I could hear Dory from Finding Nemo singing "Just keep swim-ming. Just keep swim-ming."

The experience of labour reminded me of when we climbed Taranaki. I remember looking up at the top of the mountain, feeling like it was too far away and thinking, "I can't possibly make it up there." But then, when I looked at a rock just 20 metres away, I thought, "Okay, I can make it to that rock." So that's how we did it. One contraction at a time.

At one point, my father-in-law, who I adored, turned up at the door to see how we were getting on. I had an overwhelming sense that I needed privacy and seclusion. I was in the zone, and I was only just coping... My husband looked at me and, without saying anything, quietly ushered his father away.

And then it all got a bit confusing: my contractions stopped. I got hot in the pool, and I was so, so tired, having stayed up all night. My midwife suggested getting out of the pool, and I lay with my head on my husband's lap to cool down and had a brief sleep. She examined me, and I was 9 cm dilated. She tried to sweep the cervix to manually open it - that was soooo painful! I said, "If you are going to do that, I want gas!" (we had previously agreed that she would not offer me pain relief unless I asked for it).

She got me some gas and air, and I drew in two or three long breaths. It felt amazing, all the tension and stress and worry washed away. It felt like getting off a noisy, smelly bus and taking in deep breaths of fresh air in the mountains. I was completely relaxed. When I opened my eyes, she was looking at me quizzically and said, "Generally, you use the gas when you are having a contraction!" I felt a bit embarrassed, but I didn’t really need to use the gas again. I held onto that feeling of relaxation and peace it had given me. Even when she said it was time to use some synthetic oxytocin, I didn’t panic. I remembered how worried my husband had been, and I gave myself up to whatever plan we had got to and let go of my fears and tension and stayed relaxed.

And then it was all on. She hooked me up to the oxytocin, and I was in transition and ready to push. (Later, she said that not enough syntocin had gone in to warrant the change to transition - that had been all me!) I had a huge sense of purpose in being able to bear down. I felt incredibly powerful and strong, and it felt great to be “doing” something physical. It felt like having a large and very satisfying poo! Between contractions, I was elated and chatting and so happy!

Then it was over. Tara was placed on my belly. I wasn’t sure what to do. The midwife told me about the “birth crawl”. She said that if I waited long enough (about 45 mins to an hour), Tara would eventually make her way up my belly and latch on by herself. I was knackered and happy to wait. So as my midwife placed a few stitches, I watched Tara make her way up my chest, and after lots of head nodding and pawing, she finally latched on.