a birth story - part five

In a birth story so far;

My waters have broken,

my contractions have started.

I've been to hospital with contractions that are three minutes apart,

to discover I'm only 2cm dilated.

And I've been sent home again

while things progress.

Within about half an hour of being home

I was starting to feel quite a bit of pain with each contraction.  

I desperately wanted a bath

but had been told that I shouldn't have one

as my broken waters and internal examination meant that I was susceptible to infection.

Brilliant.

I had planned to take up residence in warm water

to help relieve the pain during early labour,

but now that was out.

I decided that a walk might move things along a bit quicker

so we went for a walk (or waddle) around the village,

stopping every few minutes so I could breathe through the contractions.

These were becoming increasingly painful

and I remember thinking how naive I had been at the hospital

to think that perhaps I had a really high pain threshold.

These contractions were really nasty,

like someone was ramming me in the back with a fire extinguisher,

and by the end of my walk I felt like my insides might fall out with every step I took.

Things felt like they were pushing downwards,

which had to be a good sign.

When we got home,

my hubby had some lunch

(while I watched and pushed a yoghurt around the pot with no appetite whatsoever)

before he tentatively looked at me

and asked if it would be okay if he watched the football.

I decided I was going to see if I could have a little doze on the sofa so I agreed.

My contractions were still 3 minutes apart

but were only lasting between 25 and 50 seconds.

Baby still seemed a way off

so wanting to use the same technique I'd always used since being a child,

I decided that if I had a sleep,

then the wait would be over sooner,

the pain would be over sooner,

and Dollop would be here sooner.

Sleep failed me.

My contractions were just getting too uncomfortable.

It felt like someone was pushing my hips apart with a car-jack

while also grabbing and squeezing my stomach at the same time.

And by the time that the 90 minutes of football were up, I'd had enough.

At about 5.30pm,

nearly 12 hours after it had all started,

my husband rang the hospital.

He explained that my contractions were still 3 minutes apart

but were lasting longer

 and that I was in a lot of pain.

He was promptly advised to bring me back in.

Read the next part here.