Labour Stories: Kayleigh and Harry

Labour Stories, Mum, Uncategorized

Written By Kayleigh Williams

Labour is something every pregnant woman goes through, and whether it’s a c-section or natural, we all have different memories of it each time. I refused to listen to anyone’s labour stories purely because deep down I didn’t want to face the fact I was going to be ruined by this bundle of cuteness. I had my heart set on a calming water birth followed by returning home with Harry within the hour. I was determined that’s what was going to happen and although I had people telling me:

“You’d be surprised”

“It doesn’t always work out like that”

I really wish I’d listened to everyone because oh boy, labour is HARSH, on a whole different level of pain. 

Harry was due on the 20th August 2018, but made an appearance on the 24th of August 2018. I envied everyone I knew who had a baby within those 4 days because I prayed it was me everyday, as I waddled through town with this, huge space hopper attached to me, everyone looking at me in the 33 degree heat asking me how I’m coping and how they’re not jealous of me. Oh, I hated peoples opinions towards the end, it was not something I wanted to sit down with a cup of tea and actually enjoy listening to. I knew I was in pain, I knew my bump was above average and no I wasn’t coping. Those 4 days felt like 4 weeks. 

I was having my sweep done on the 23rd of August and my midwife asked me if I was in any pain or so, and I said no- why? She told me I was already 6cm and listen to this, I didn’t feel a thing. I felt completely normal, uncomfortable yes, but no pain down there. She told me to get down to the hospital because if my waters go, I’m going to be having this baby on my bed and I wasn’t ready for that kind of birth. I had to head down to the hospital so off me and Owen went, excited we were going to meet our baby. Much to our disappointment we spent 5 hours in hospital waiting and waiting. No pain, no signs of labour at all so we were sent home. By this point I was frustrated because my whole day had been wasted all for nothing. 

It was around 1am when what I thought was my waters, went. I got out of bed and let everyone know it’s time for me to go. I started having tiny pains and each time they got worse. Owen drove me to the hospital and that was probably the worst drive I had ever been on. I was in SO much pain, almost unbearable at times but I knew it was going to be okay. The hospital got everything ready for me. My waters hadn’t actually broken, the midwife had to brake them for me and oh my goodness, it went everywhere. Harry had pooped inside of me so it was a case of getting me into the room and getting this baby out of me. The pain was so bad at this point and I had to reach for the gas and air as I was panicking and needed to calm myself down. Owen was by my side supporting me, letting me know everything was going to be okay. I started to become a little drowsy from all of the gas and air so I began to lose concentration of what was going on around me. The midwife told us we were losing Harry, he’s getting stressed and he needs to come out now. In came I reckon about 15 doctors and nurses, who helped take me down to theatre as this was then classed as an emergency so theatre was needed. Owen was left in a room all by himself for around 20 minutes bless him. I don’t remember this at all but I’m guessing he felt scared and worried for us all. 

In theatre I was given an epidural as the pain was getting so unbearable I was crying, I physically could not move anywhere. Harry’s heartbeat was slowing down, so I had to be cut twice down below, and Harry was given forceps and ventouse as he was almost stuck inside of me. By this point I didn’t feel a thing, i couldn’t even feel my toes let alone the pain. Pushing whilst not feeling a thing was so difficult. Harry then came at 4:43am on the 24th August. My whole world changed from that moment and it was the best moments of my life. I’d just been through the most traumatic time of my life but all that mattered was Harry in my arms and Owen right next to me. 

I was not expecting what I had in store for my labour. It was truly the worst experience my body has ever been put through. I regret not educating myself a bit more with it. The only positive thing from it was Harry. My little bundle of joy. 

What Being A Mum Means To Me: Alice

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From an early age, I had the desire to be a Mum. I fantasised about falling in love and being married and building a dream life. Whether it be down to overwatching of Disney films or a natural, animal instinct, I knew that having a family of my own was what was meant for me. I’ve always loved babies and children, but nothing prepared me for the level of love that you feel when you have your own.

When I discovered I was pregnant I was totally shocked. It was unexpected and I was unprepared, but there was something so magical about seeing that little heartbeat for the first time, and from that moment onwards things seemed to fall into place. I got engaged and bought a flat with the person I loved. Even though he came earlier in my life than I expected, Ted has been what I needed at just the right time. I was feeling lost about my place in the world, where I was going and what I was doing, and being a mum has helped me refocus on my goals.

For me, being a mum is about learning to love in a brand new way. It cannot be compared to any other sort of love. It’s both unconditional and indescribable. I look at him and I can’t believe that I created this little ball of energy and curiosity who is so clever and strong with the most charming personality already and a smile that is going to break hearts. How could he possibly be mine?

I love that I can share my passions with a mini me. I dream of the day we can write stories together and have Marvel movie marathons and read Harry Potter until we fall asleep. But most importantly, I can’t wait to see what he enjoys and what his passions blossom to be. I find myself full of wonder and what-ifs. Is he going to be good at football? What subject is going to be his strongest at school? Will he go to university? Will he have a family of his own one day?

However, the anticipation of the future does not stop me from enjoying each and every moment with him. Putting my phone down, turning the TV off and singing to him, reading to him, playing with him, and listening to him giggle and look up at me with his big gummy smile is the reassurance I always need to know that maybe, just maybe, I am doing a fantastic job.

Being a mum has been full a sacrifice for me also. Breastfeeding has meant I have had to miss out on nights out and time with my friends. I can’t afford to be selfish anymore, spending money on holidays and endless amounts of clothes. I can’t just go out and do what I want. But I was always prepared for that sacrifice, and as Ted is getting older I am getting more and more of a break, and a little bit of freedom and ‘me’ back. What is very poignant is that whenever I’m not with Ted, he is all I think about still.

However, motherhood has also opened up new opportunities for me. It’s got my creative juices flowing and meant I’ve finally committed to something I love- writing. Without being a mum, this blog would never have come to be. It’s also meant I’ve made new friends, and become closer to my old friends, who respect me as a mother and what I have achieved.

Being Ted’s mum is a new chapter to the book of me- a new part of my identity. I’m never going to be a conventional, stereotypical mum. You won’t find me baking or attending sensory classes, but I will always be there when Ted needs a cuddle. When he needs feeding. When he needs love. When he just needs his mummy. Being a mum has made me so much more confident as a person. It’s helped me embrace who I am and also made me realise I don’t care if others don’t like that person. Yes, I can be shy and a bit awkward. Yes, most the time I am in my very own Wonderland. Does that matter to Ted? No. He looks at me like I am the most wonderful person in the world. That little look of love is the drive behind my every choice and motivation and I am grateful that motherhood has been so kind to me so far.

Labour Stories: Meg and Delilah Rose

Labour Stories, Mum, Uncategorized

Written by Meg Brooks

It was the day before my due date- 23th Feb. I spent this day jogging around my house and eating a super spicy curry for my tea. Little did I know these theories would actually work!! (or was it just a coincidence?)

At around 8pm, me and my partner got into bed all comfy, stuck a film on and tried to settle down for the night. I had been getting slight pains in my tummy for hours before this but I didn’t think anything of it as it was very very mild. However, when I was lying in bed they seemed to get worse and worse, so I began to time them. They started off being 20 minutes apart, to 10 minutes apart!

I rang my mum panicking asking for her opinion. She told me to stay calm and ring the midwives soon if they get worse. I was in deep pain now. I knew it was contractions! Suddenly, I felt a weird feeling down below, like if I moved my legs then I would wee myself. So I sat up hoping to go to the loo, and then it happened. My waters broke all over my bed! It felt like I just weed myself. I rushed to the toilet, got myself sorted, and I tried to remain pretty calm until I looked up and saw my partner running round like a mad man… he was worse than me! 

Anyway, we met my mum along her road and picked her up (she was that excited she forgot to bring the car seat which was at her house), and we got to the hospital. Every bump on the road was awful with contractions. Getting into the hospital was a bit of a blur really. I was that shook and in that much pain. The midwife examined me and told me I was 4cm already.

I remember being in my labour room with my mum and boyfriend, and I was bouncing on the medicine ball while my midwife was filling up the bath for a water birth! I hoped the pool would ease some pain, as I was starting to think I couldn’t do it anymore. I tried some gas and air, but I didn’t like it as it made me feel a bit sick. The word epidural popped into my head, but when I told my midwife she said I was already far too gone and she could tell it was going to be quite a quick labour so I couldn’t have one! Gutted.

Every contraction got worse, being 3 minutes apart each time. Apparently at one point I had my mum in a headlock- poor woman. The pool took hours to fill up. I couldn’t bare this being on no pain relief anymore! Isn’t it crazy when you’re scared and in pain, you suddenly turn into a little child again? I remember just wanting my mum, shouting ‘Mum! Mum!’ My poor partner probably felt I didn’t need him there. I was only 20 at the time, so I was only a little baby myself.

After a little while my birthing pool was ready. I was so relieved! I sat in it… and within a few seconds I felt a bit better. The pressure of the water really helps! I recommend it to any of you pregnant mummys.

Next I had an awful contraction, and suddenly felt like I was going to poo. I shouted ‘OH NO IM GOING TO POO IM GOING TO POO!’. Funny looking back, but at the time I was so scared I was going to take a dump in the pool. The midwife checked the babies heart after my contraction, and her face dropped. She said ‘you need to get out of the pool now. You need to stay calm but be really quick’. The babies heart rate had dropped suddenly. I was so scared. I turned really brave and toughened up and got out of the pool, walked over to the bed, almost slipped on the wet floor, and laid down. Gutted I was only in the pool for 2 minutes!

On my next contraction the midwife said I needed to push. It was the worst pain ever. The contractions were so bad now, at their peak. I was screaming “I can’t do it!!! I really can’t do it” but everyone was so supportive telling me I can do it and I’m nearly there.

After 20 minutes of pushing, out popped her head. The midwife told me she had loads of black hair, which made me smile and feel excited… my baby girl was almost out! I did one more big push and out popped her slippery little body. I was so relieved and shocked and amazed. She was put on my chest, slightly crying, but starting to settle. She was so beautiful, thick black hair, little intense eyes, a teeny button nose and long nails. From that moment on my life changed. I was a young mum with a new meaning in life, a new responsibility. She came and changed my world for the better and we all love her dearly. I would go through all that pain all over again for her!

Gender Reveal Reflection

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This week on my Facebook memories, up popped a little reminder that last March, we discovered the gender of my little one. It is bizarre to think that little over a year ago I was still fantasizing about what the identity of my baby would be, and here I am sat with a 7 month old little boy napping on me.

I looked back at a blog I wrote at the time where I expressed my thoughts on gender and the importance, or maybe lack of, when it came to my child. The poignancy of his gender really came down to selfishness- I wanted to know what to picture when imagining my family. I wanted to know whether I was going to be running around with a little Ted or alternatively, a little Daisy (the girls name we had picked out ready).

Often I wonder whether when I have my next child (note the when- not if!) that I’d want to find out. Is that still important to me? Honestly, I would do it every time. I remember describing myself as a chaotic woman camouflaged as an organised one, and as that person I loved preparing for ‘Ted.’ Of course, having a ‘Daisy’ would be ideal… the creation of a perfect nuclear family. However, I also have a lot of boys clothes that could do with being worn again!

Then Im torn. I think, does it actually matter? I’ll be running around fighting with lightsabers and having wizard duels, curling up on winter weekends for Marvel movie marathons (also super thrilled that Disney’s Captain Marvel costume is uni-sex by the way) and that is regardless of who my next little one might be, and who Ted may become. Maybe he will be far too cool for all the nerdy things that me and his dad are interested in.

To quote myself a year ago:

What is important is how we raise our children. Whether male or female, I want Little Olding to grow up with a strong set of morals and to make his/her own choices. Both should learn the importance of love and kindness, respecting everyone regardless of age, race and sexuality and how to be altruistic. How they identify and the interests they choose are down to their own self-awareness and independence. Children should be raised the same, regardless of their gender, and that it what is important.

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Becoming a Disabled Mum

disabled mum, Mum, Uncategorized

Written by Charlotte Jones

I hadn’t been with my boyfriend long before I found out I was pregnant, but we were both so happy about it. My pregnancy was amazing. I loved it. I worked out 6 times a week- but I was petrified of not knowing what was pregnancy weight and what was extra weight. It turned out once my son was born my stomach went flat. I did have lots of extra skin, though I described it as a kangaroo pouch, but nothing high waisted leggings wouldn’t hide.

I loved being a mum but I was very protective. I wouldn’t let anyone hold him. He was mine- all mine. After 6 months I went back to work, but again I loved it. I loved working, being a mum and a housewife. It was the best feeling in the world.

When my son was 15 months, I woke up one morning and couldn’t move. I could talk but it made no sense. I was rushed to hospital. It turned out I had a major stroke and was very lucky to be alive. I was told I’d never walk again. I don’t remember much from hospital, except how scared my little boy was of his mum. It was awful. It made me feel so down and like my life was spiralling out of my control. After 3 months I was allowed home and I was so excited, but part of me was in complete denial. I thought I’d get home and everything will be back to normal, but it wasn’t- I could barely walk, my son was still afraid of me and I couldn’t change him, bath him, make his bottles, or even play with him. It caused my depression to become worse. I felt worthless. I thought I’d be better off dead than be such a burden on my boyfriend and the kids. It was slowly breaking me.

I needed help with everything and not being able to be a proper mum was so hard, but I persevered and my life started to come together. It took 2 years, but I was starting to feel a bit more of a mum. I can finally take my son out on my own. I don’t have him very often as I struggle to look after him. It completely exhausts me. I know being a parent is hard work, but this feels like I can’t even move.

My son is now 3 and he’s amazing. He accepts me as I am. It doesn’t bother him that I’m disabled. I feel more guilt than anything, as there are lots of things can’t do with him, so we make the most of little things. We walk to the park and collect leaves. We play pooh sticks over the bridges we come across. At the park I find other mums are helpful and they will lift him into a swing for me and I can then push him. When we go out he walks right next to my chair. He knows not to walk behind me as it worries me that someone might grab him. At home I can now out a pull up on him for bed-luckily potty training him was very easy. I am starting to get him dressed but I struggle doing it. I will get there. It will just take some time.

He doesn’t understand why I have two arms but only one works. I am learning to pick him up for cuddles and I am so excited to be able to. I wish I could hold him, squeeze him, but I can’t. Being how I am breaks my heart and I feel so bad for him, but the older he gets the easier it will become.