Here is the third story in our exciting monthly Real Birth Story series, which are all written by YOU my dear readers!

It outlines the incredible journey of a wonderfully strong mumma- Kristy, during and after the birth of her first gorgeous daughter Natalia. It outlines her labour struggles and touches on the aftermath of a marriage breakdown following the birth of her daughter.

We hope you enjoy reading her story as much as we did! xxx 

Smile and nod.

I was one of those lucky pregnant ladies. I loved being pregnant. I was fit, healthy and LOVED my body. I believed in my body and what it was doing and what it was going to do.

Yep that was me. Serene, in love with my perfect husband, perfect life, perfect pregnancy.

I couldn’t wait to push this baby out in that perfect drug free labour and raise it in my perfect house and marriage!

My story isn’t special. It is just another story. Another journey. It began way back in high school when I fell in love for the first time.

Fast forward 10 years to the day I married my first love then another 5 years when we finally decided to try and get pregnant. Bam. First month we were blessed with the coveted positive test.

My perfect pregnancy flew by and chats turned to talks about labour and birthing.

Older friends and my mum kept saying things like “just take it as it comes”, “don’t go in with any expectations” and “try and relax”. To which I would respond with my silly serene smile and say “I trust that my body is going to do what it is supposed to” and the mums before me would all get that little gleam in their eyes.

You know the look I mean? The one that radiates, wisdom, sympathy and empathy all at once?

They would stop talking, smile at me with those knowing eyes and nod. It wasn’t rude, it wasn’t judgemental but I remember it sooo well. The smile and nod moment.

My hospital due date came and went as so many do. I went on with my daily life like nothing was about to happen, I even continued my normal boot camp routine until 41 weeks.

I mean why wouldn’t I? I was JUST pregnant.

At the 41 week check-up I was booked in for an ultrasound the following week just to check everything was still going ok, standard procedure.

Thursday came around and we went off to the movies and to a family dinner. I remember feeling weird. Headaches and not quite 100% but in true Kristy form I pushed on. After all, I was JUST pregnant.

I finally chilled for a bit on Friday night and watched some tv with the husband who had of course spent hours in the kitchen cooking his usual MasterChef dinner. I know, right? Perfect.

I remember I stood to go to the toilet and POP! Literally POP. I heard it and almost felt it reverberate through my whole body. Then for a minute I thought I had wet myself…. And then I thought – hang on, that’s right, I am pregnant! Der! I haven’t just pulled a hamstring and peed myself. My water broke!

Right, because that happens when you are JUST pregnant.

Here we go, I thought.

We had gone to all the birthing classes, together of course because we were perfect.

I skimmed over the breastfeeding stuff because that was natural and easy and I remember zoning out about the drugs and caesarean stuff because after all, this was my perfect first birth. It was natural and nothing was going to stop things going the way they ‘should’.

I did remember being told not to rush to the hospital straight away because first births usually take forever but we should give them a call to let them know my water had broken. I also knew that contractions probably wouldn’t start straight away but of course my birth was going to be perfect and my contractions started soon after.

Nice and regular, far apart and not too strong. Easy, perfect. All to be expected. So we called and let them know that my water had broken. First small hurdle. The water wasn’t clear so they wanted me to come in.

We packed the car and headed into hospital. A 50 minute trip with contractions increasing. Oh the joys.

They decided to admit us because we were already dilated a little, 3cm, go me! Breezing so far. Perfect contractions, perfect progress. So happy.

Rather than sending us home we stayed the night in a birthing suite on the horribly hard bed. My perfect husband slept while I tossed and turned with minor annoying contractions. Needless to say, as expected, everything stalled. Saturday morning comes around, my mum comes in, just in case, but alas still nothing exciting.

So home we go.

As soon as I got into the car and started home contractions returned with some serious force. All still manageable though.

Once home, I stood and rocked through them. Saturday arvo I started feeling a bit sick and things got more serious. The hospital asked us to come in again.

So off we went again, 50 minutes in a car contracting properly. This time it wasn’t exactly fun. I was getting tired but was still full of hope. We even took a picture with the clock in the background.

Image © mummalifelovebaby

Sometime later I was checked out. I was only 5cm!!! I mean what the hell. So my perfect husband slept while I bounced and crawled trying to get things going. We even tried a shower. Move forward to around 11pm and I was checked out again. I had only progressed to 6cm.

Hurdle number two, I was being moved from the birthing suite to the ward where I would be put on a drip to get things going. This was not part of the perfect plan, my husband was going to stay with me in the birthing suite! Of course, I did what I was told and off I went.

By midnight I was set up in my new quarters, and I continued contracting.

They were more serious than before and I remember being commended on how well I was breathing. Go me.

Sunday crawled by in a blur and by Sunday night I was wrecked.

I was contracting with force but things were still slow. So they upped the devil juice to speed things up. Oh boy that was hellish. The midwife sat me in a chair to “rest” because by midnight we were going to have a baby.

So I sat like this:

Image © mummalifelovebaby

Sexy right? So being the perfect pregnant lady I was I did as I was told and tried to “rest”.

Around 3am I was checked again. Thank god I was 9cm. I was assured I should keep resting and that by the morning I would be holding my perfect baby. I remember my perfect husband reassuring me and encouraging me that at our usual boot camp time I would be pushing our baby out while the rest of the crew endured some horrible set from our trainer.

5am came and went and still nothing. My mum made me move and go sit on the toilet in the hope that I would feel the ‘urge’ to push. But alas nothing.

At 6 am a new important person came in and told my perfect husband that they would give me one more hour to progress before they had to take me down for an emergency caesarean. To which he agreed….

And just like that my world exploded.

I was shattered. Distraught. I could keep going no worries. It had only been just over 48hours!

I cried and clung to my mum begging them not to do it. I was so distraught that I ended up sucking back the gas to at least numb how horrible I felt. Perfect conditions to encourage labour.

Image © mummalifelovebaby

Anyone who knows anything about giving birth (which at the time clearly I didn’t), lying back in that position certainly wasn’t going to help my baby move down and out the way it needed to. So, sometime in the early stages of the morning (at this point I really didn’t give a fuck) they wheeled me off to be cut open while I cried my heart out. I felt like such a failure.

My perfect husband seems to be coping quite fine with my caesarean.

Image © mummalifelovebaby

I on the other hand was not. The pain of contractions that were not long ago manageable because they served a purpose made me feel like I was going to die and almost felt like my body was reminding me and punishing me for failing.

I was rolled onto my side for a spinal to be put in place. On the third attempt they finally got it in. For anyone who has ever experienced labour. Lying on your side, with your knees pulled up while contracting like a bitch is not a nice place to be.

It all gets super blurry for me from here.

I distinctly remember the feeling of being cut and pulled every which way while they tried to extract my beautiful baby.

I remember the guy between my legs telling me that my “next four kids would be vaginal because you could drive a truck through this pelvis”. And I remember thinking then why the hell am I here? But I quickly pushed it aside. After all, they know what is best.

I remember being so numb that I couldn’t even lift my arms. I remember the extra people being needed to get my baby out and them pushing down on my tummy. But I couldn’t feel a thing. It was like a super weird trip.

‘That’ moment finally arrived. And it’s true what people say. For a second it didn’t matter how my angel was brought into the world. She was here. She was screaming and alive.

I could hear her crying so strong and loud, but I couldn’t hold her. My perfect husband left my side to be with our baby. I still couldn’t see her.

I started to get cold as people started to rush around more. I got sleepy. My husband appeared beside me after a strange splat sounded in the room. Later I was to learn that it was the three litres of blood they were suctioning out of me hitting the floor. He looked worried. This was very strange. I hadn’t seen such concern on my husbands face… ever.

He was told to bring our baby GIRL over to me. Wow a girl! Natalia.

He was instructed to place her on my chest. I believe the people who know best were trying to keep me conscious as my blood pressure plummeted.

Little did they know it was another moment where I felt like a failure. I couldn’t hold my little girl. The spinal had been placed too high and not only was it impacting on my heart but also my arms. My perfect husband had to take her away.

After the ‘procedure’ I was sent off to recovery. Almost two hours had passed before I could hold my baby and feed her. Add to that I was exhausted.

It turned out that Natalia had scooted back up inside the womb and turned herself sideways into a “deep transverse” position. There was no way in hell she was ever coming out while I was “resting” the way I was. I mean check out the shape of her head!

Image © mummalifelovebaby

Image © mummalifelovebaby

Needless to say things turned out ok.

I lost a hell of a lot of blood and I had a lot of very important hospital people visit me over the next few days more than once. In my postpartum daze I didn’t realise why. At that point it honestly didn’t matter. I was alive and Natalia was alive.

I was alive and Natalia was alive.

It wasn’t long after her birth that my perfect world continued to unravel. I battled breastfeeding, post-natal and a marriage breakdown. Yes, a marriage breakdown. My perfect husband was no longer with me.

I did my best to be ok. I smiled when people told me it didn’t matter how my baby was born, or that I couldn’t fully breast feed. I wanted to punch the perfect mums in my mothers group who got to push their babies out and whip their tits out and feed with confidence.

I was in mourning and it wasn’t until my shrink gave me permission to mourn the loss of the birth I wanted, did I start to get better.

After some healing, a little self-love and a lot of help from my friends and family, I started to put myself back together again and opened myself up to love. And I joined that group. The ‘smile and nod’ group I mentioned before.

I listened to the joyful rants of first time mothers who knew exactly how their natural birth was going to go and I smiled and nodded.

I also hoped that it would all work out for them the way they wanted. It wasn’t until when I peed on that stick almost four years later that I stared to question my perfect babies birth in more detail. It wasn’t until then that I began to realise how I had let myself down by not knowing enough about birthing and my right to the birth I wanted.

It wasn’t until then that I began my next birthing battle. And this one was going to be epic.

Then… – Image © mummalifelovebaby

Now… – Image © mummalifelovebaby

Do you have a story to tell? Would you like to share YOUR birth story?? Head to the Contact Me Page on the website, or shoot me an email at info@mummalifelovebaby for more details, and you may see YOUR story published soon! xxx

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