It is. It really, really is. Or perhaps it's more a case of me still floating in that post-birth, half world where I still remember vividly every second of my 52 hour (yes, that's right) labour.
Most mothers I speak to who have children over 1 year get a faraway look in their eyes when asked if their labour/birth was painful, "No, not painful, just really intense". All mothers I speak to who have children under 6 months, well, their eyes fill with anguish before they bleat "Oh God, oh God! The pain! The pain!". As my sister so very delicately put it after the birth of her first son, "It's like squeezing a melon out your vagina and a basketball out your bum". How right she was.
My rose tinted dream bubble of a quick, painless and all natural water birth was quickly burst when Little Red began his journey into this world on a Friday afternoon. He must have taken a few wrong turns on the way, stopped to see the sights and take in a show because he didn't arrive until Sunday night. Mother's Day. The one thing he got right was arriving on his due date, good boy.
I'll spare you the gory details. Actually, no, I won't. It goes a little something like this:
52 hours from start to finish. 5 hours of sleep. Contractions 6 minutes apart from the very start. 1cm dilation in a 24 hour period. God knows how many milligrams of Oxytocin to get the contractions progressing which brings us to.... 90 seconds of eyeball bulging, back breaking, body contorting contractions every 2 minutes. Tens of drug-haze inducing inhalations of gas. 3 puke buckets. 5 ice buckets. 2 seconds for me to consider and accept the epidural offered. 3 people to sit me up and hold me still while the tube was inserted. An hour of lucidity followed by an hour of learning how to use my completely numb lower body to push. 40 minutes of pushing whilst enduring the most intense feeling of pressure I've ever felt in my bum and screaming "I can't! Nothing's happening!". 2 seconds of oh my God there's a baby. 4 minutes of oh my God there's a baby who's not breathing on his own (but it's OK, he began to breathe eventually). Then.... a lifetime of hello little one, you're all mine.
I have to admit, the above is slightly sugar coated, slightly abridged so as to keep the small shred of dignity I have left intact (because once you get into that delivery suite, prepare to leave every inch of it at the door). I'm not saying it wasn't worth it because it so, so was - from all that pain and trauma came a perfect little bundle of love and maybe one day I'll be one of those mothers that gets that faraway look before saying "No, not painful, just really intense" (although I highly doubt it) but for now, bring on that C-section!
well, hun. I think they say that cause if you are already pregnant - it isn't very nice to say OMG it hurts like nothing else. No one wants to be held accountable for being the one who freaks the poor woman out about her birthing day.
ReplyDeletewell said Rebecca - also who wants burst the bubble of the woman who genuinely thinks they are going to have a natural, estatic, hypno-birth? worse than the mothers who lie to you about childbirth are the truly awful mothers who attend plunket coffee groups and tell you that their two month old sleeps through the night....grrr...
ReplyDeleteI think it is refreshing to honest accounts of labour, both good and bad. For me, the first time, the freakiest bit was the unknown of it all. Being 'prepared' for the fact that it can be a nightmare can sometimes be a good thing.
ReplyDeleteI do agree with Amy though, new mums bragging about how well their child sleeps really is the worst! Though these days I tend to just nod and smile, thinking to myself 'Oh your time will come..'