Mummy, don’t be a hero

I revealed the story of Brodie’s birth last week, so when Netmums and Channel 4 invited us to blog about pain in childbirth – to mark the second episode of One Born Every Minute – it gave me the excuse I needed to write about Blake’s arrival.

Because, you see, my second child was my chance to prove I could do it without pain relief.

I’d succumbed to the unspoken competition between mums to achieve childbirth with little more than a hint of perspiration and a wipe down with a wet flannel.

You’ll have heard the smug stories at the toddler groups, which are always greeted with nods and smiles from the rest of us.

And I’ve blogged about the celebrities who don’t help matters, because they give interviews about how they meditated, had the baby in their living room, then cooked a four-course dinner while simultaneously breastfeeding the newborn.

Grrrrrrr!

Meanwhile the rest of us are secretly seething because, despite bringing a child safely into the world, we’ve lost face just a little because it bloody well hurt and we sweated and screamed – and accepted drugs to help us through.

Hypnobirthing was all the rage among my ante-natal class first time around. But it wasn’t for me.

For a start, the course cost £300, and I instinctively knew I’d spend all that money – then scream for an epidural when the time came.

But with my rose-coloured specs on, I figured second time around would go a lot easier. It had been two and a half years since the first time, and from what I remembered, it hadn’t been so bad.

My body had endured childbirth once, and everyone told me it would be quicker this time.

I was eight days overdue when my hospital agreed I could be induced.

They usually waited 10 days, but my mother-in-law was staying with us to take care of Brodie, so I pushed for an earlier delivery.

It was 11am and Mr G asked if his Mum could be in the room – at least until it was time to collect Brodie from nursery.

I had no problem with that. I get on really well with Joyce and knew she’d be tactful and quiet. She sat by my shoulder and observed.

Once I had my lovely nightdress on and was hooked up to a drip, I urged my husband to take his Mum for a coffee.

After all, I had everything under control. I was a warrior. I’d done this before, and I could do it again.

HOLY SH**!!!!!!!

Mr G returned half an hour later to find me, mooing like a cow (I kid you not), sucking on the gas and air, and trying to stay still while the anaesthetist stuck a giant needle in my spine.

“I see we’re having an epidural then,” he smiled.

I wanted to punch him in the face.

While he was away, I’d gone from zero to agony in about 20 minutes.

I’d managed to clench my teeth through about 10 contractions before screaming for them to bring on the drugs.

But the epidural didn’t work.

“Just give it a few more minutes,” the midwife said.

Aaaaarrrrgghhhhh!

Any intention to be brave, to fight through the pain, had gone right out of the window.

“It’s not wooooorrrrrkkkkkinnnnnng,” I screamed, and the guy was called back with his giant needle.

Two more attempts and lots of mooooing later (don’t ask me why, maybe because I had the gas and air clamped between my teeth) and the agony began to ease.

Phew.

Blake was born at 6.05pm on October 8, 2008 – after a seven-hour labour. He was 9lbs 4oz and needed to be helped out with a ventouse suction device.

But unlike the first time, when I had third degree tearing and an episiotomy, I had minimal tearing.

The minute he was put on my tummy, I didn’t care that I hadn’t lived up to my image of a brave and warrior-like woman.

I had a new son – and had just been reminded of the agony of childbirth.

But if I thought I’d been through my worst, I was mistaken.

I was in stirrups, and numbed from the waist down.

And before I knew it, the room was empty of medical staff.

A cleaner wandered in, obviously used to the sight of a new mum in all her glory, and made small talk while cleaning the floor.

Then….. she moved Mr G and his mum to the end of the room.

The MESSY END of the room.

My legs were in the air, I was looking between them, and I could see my husband and mother-in-law trying not to glance at the car crash before them.

After what seemed like forever, someone came in and covered me with a blanket.

But I know now it was too late.

My lovely mother-in-law will never forget the day her youngest grandson was born.

But I hope it’s because she was one of the first to hold Blake in her arms.

Not because she saw me from an angle NOBODY should have to see.

If I haven’t put you off childbirth stories for good, One Born Every Minute is on Channel 4 tonight at 9pm.

Tags: Channel 4, Childbirth, Epidural, hypnobirthing, One Born Every Minute