Covered in sick, in labour for 72 hours and my baby PULLED out of me: The code of secrecy that meant I had no idea how tough childbirth would be
Fabulous columnist Stacey looks back ten years to the birth of son Zachary
IS there a secret code among women which means they don’t reveal just how traumatic childbirth can be?
I’m only asking because when I had my first son, Zachary, I felt like the real details of how awful it can be were kept from me.
Admittedly, I was 17 and naïve - I just asked the women I knew who had given birth and they probably didn’t want to scare me.
There were no horror stories and most people kept it quite vague – along the lines of “It was hard and tiring but all worth it in the end” or “It was a bit scary but I’ve done it twice and millions of women have done it so it can’t be that bad?”
It was all with the best intentions, of course, but it didn’t give me any way to mentally prepare or make pre-planned choices.
Looking back, I wish I had known a little more about how hard and intense childbirth can be for some, because I went in blind.
Even at the antenatal classes it was all calming breathing exercises, with no real insight into the harsher realities of labour.
But childbirth turned out to be one of the most horrendous experiences of my life.
It didn’t help that I was scared from the start - I will never forget the day I found out I was pregnant.
I was a happy teenager with a head full of plans - I wanted to be a career girl, travel the world and there wasn't anything or anyone who could stop me!
Then BAM – at the tender age of 17, I found out I was expecting.
I was sitting in a cafe having lunch with my dad and stepmum when I suddenly felt sick. I told my dad the stink of onions in his food was making me ill but he swore there were none.
My stepmum must have heard alarm bells ringing straightaway - she took me aside and told me I should perhaps take a pregnancy test.
I told her that was impossible as I was having periods (apparently lots of women experience this) and I walked away in a teenage strop at the very thought she could suggest something so absurd.
Later that night she insisted, saying: “Look just do it for me, then I’ll shut up!’”
That was an offer I couldn't refuse. I didn't even want my parents to know I was having sex - let alone try and talk to me about it!
And though I was in my first proper relationship, I couldn’t begin to imagine having a baby.
But low and behold, I was immediately slapped in the face with a very obvious and bold blue cross. PREGNANT.
First thought: “It must be wrong.”
Second thought: “I’m going to be sick.”
Third thought “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
The strangest and most vivid memory I have from this moment (other than the blue cross) was looking at my stepmum and seeing a huge kind smile. I remember thinking why on earth is she smiling? This is literally the end of my life. The end of college, the end of friendships, the end of my dreams and hopes. My life is over.
Worse than finding out you’re pregnant at 17 is having to tell your mum and dad.
My parents are pretty strict “education first - fun later” kind of parents.
But much to my surprise – although the initial reaction was tears and one liners like “I’m not disappointed in you, I'm just upset for you” and “It’s just such a shame you had so much going for you” – my parents were astounding.
After an initial wobble, I decided to go through with the pregnancy and my parents couldn’t have been more supportive.
My dad’s eyes welled up, he gave me a huge cuddle and all of a sudden everyone was in tears and hugging me telling me how great this journey would be, that it’s not the end of my life and that they will all support me and we’d get through this together.
Thank God for my family - I’m so lucky and I don't know who I would be without them.
Four and half months later I went into labour - utterly unprepared for how traumatic it would be.
Zachary’s birth was a gruelling 72 hours of what I can only describe as utter hell.
I don’t want to scare anyone about to give birth, this was just my experience and lots of women have completely different experiences.
But I had never encountered pain like that of a contraction.
Up until that moment the most pain I’d been through was a deep paper cut – so you can imagine my complete shock.
Everything happened so slowly. As soon as I started getting labour pains, two midwives arrived to look after me. They said I was contracting “beautifully” which means they were intense, long and regular but I was dilating at the speed of a sloth.
I was advised to lie in the bath until the contractions were closer together but, after soaking in the hot water for so long my fingers resembled prunes, they felt it had gone on so long and they were worried the baby was too stressed, so an ambulance was called.
When I got to King George’s hospital they put me on every monitor under the sun and after a few hours of relentless contractions they decided to intervene (about bloomin’ time, as far as I was concerned).
They prepped me for theatre, gave me an epidural and the pain started to ease off.
After an hour or two of waiting to go to theatre, they informed me that two emergency Caesareans had come in which were priority over me, so the anaesthetist was unavailable for any top-ups and they would have to manually PULL this baby out.
As alarming as that sounds, by this point I would have let them do absolutely anything. I was exhausted and sick and just wanted it all to end!
First they cut me and they were about to use a giant pair of what I can only describe as BBQ tongs (forceps) before my mum – who had stepped in to be my birthing partner – put her foot down and said “Don’t use those!”
Instead, they used their hands and pulled little Zachary out.
Thanks to the epidural, I had no idea how and when to push so I don’t think I was much use!
It wasn’t just me that was feeling the pressure of it all. Zachary was so stressed out, he pooed on the way out!
I had no idea that could happen but, for some strange reason, I was glad it was him and not me.
Apparently this is worrying for the doctors because it can mean the baby inhales the meconium (again I had no idea) so we were kept in for observations for a few days.
On top of that, I was throwing up throughout the whole thing, either from the gas and air or the sheer overwhelming nature of the whole thing.
But, after all that, there he was – this tiny wrinkled alien-looking thing plonked straight on my boobs (without even asking) staring at me as I lay sweaty plus covered in sick and things I didn’t even know existed in my body.
None of this mattered at that moment. In fact nothing did.
Lots of people describe an overwhelming sense of happiness and joy the first moment they held their baby in their arms. I didn’t feel much at all.
I just remember being hungry and thinking I can’t wait to go to sleep.
This week we celebrated Zachary’s 10th birthday.
He's ecstatic to have FINALLY reached double figures and is already laying out his hopes and dreams for the big 10, which include later bedtimes, higher allowance for his weekly chores and pushing a strong case for downloading a game for 12 and overs – ‘Fortnite’ (NOT GOING TO HAPPEN).
I have a totally different emotion today. Obviously I'm overjoyed to celebrate my baby’s birthday but I've spent most of the day trying to hold back the tears – not unusual for me since becoming a parent.
What feels like a lifetime for Zachary has zoomed by in the blink of an eye for me. Ten years! Ten?
In the grand scheme of things that’s just the beginning and my grandma has been a mummy for an astonishing 67 years, but nevertheless Zachary seems far too old for my liking.
The day Zachary was born was the best day of my life (although I didn't feel that way in the moment).
He has enriched my life more than he will ever know.
He is a truly wonderful person and a protective, well-natured older brother (most of the time). As biased as I may be, he really is an astonishing human being.
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I’m filled with pride and emotion on a daily basis, by this kind, intelligent, genuine, incredible young man I have raised.
He has taught me how challenging yet wonderful motherhood can be but also he has shown me how well I was parented.
He is the reason I came to realise so early on how truly loved and blessed I am and have been by my own family. I only hope I can be the parent to Zachary that my parents were to me.
Being a teenage mum and a single parent hasn’t been easy but I wouldn't change it for the world. It made me who I am today, and for that Zachary Solomon, I am eternally grateful.
Earlier this week Stacey revealed the reasons she was homeschooling Zachary and Leighton.