Our childbirth story

… cause no, nothing is being closer than body to body,

In our world!
Never.
In nothing.
With nobody.

Oksana Zabuzhko

Earlier I wrote that when I disappear from blog for more than a week, it means that we are traveling, but this time the journey was somewhat different)

At first I got sick a week before giving birth, a terrible runny nose and cough, which is especially scary during such a period. I still have not completely recover and my ribs are aching thanks to cough with a tummy-drummy and more, probably, from the extremity of the childbirth, but now it hurts from cough elsewhere as well)

So, on the third day postpartum we finally came back home with a tiny knight of my heart. Home greeted us with a complete ass of everything that had happened that day: things turned out of cabinets, a bloody toilet, dirt from paramedics boots, and packs of used syringes and oxygen masks.

Many expected to hear my romantic story about childbirth in the water, and that is exactly how it was planned, though I intuitively felt that I would do it on land. However, I craved waterbirth not for my own comfort, but for the comfort of the baby who I had never planned in this predominantly shitty world and who did not deserve any suffering and for whom water could be a much smoother way to arrive. For him I read through the tonnes of text to be ready for anything, because ignorance breeds fear and stress is not the best way to meet a newcomer. I cherished the joy, learned to breathe, talked to my baby and sang for him. But no matter how much you read, you will never know everything, and in the end, each has its own, completely unique story, and that’s exactly why all this is so interesting.

First of all, I had the choice of giving birth with a husband in the Emirates or without him in Ukraine. The problem was finally solved as soon as I found out that there is an opportunity to have waterbirth in the Emirates, and I visited the only hospital which was actually providing this service. Cleanliness and comfort, good staff, charismatic British midwife head, full of the right ideas about free choices of mom-in-labour and mom-baby together, what else is there to be desired?

Precisely forty weeks after conception, I woke up at 3 am with regular intervals of three minutes, and they felt the same as braxton hicks ones – the abdomen was getting hard like a stone accompanied with lingering menstrual pain. The bedtime went off agenda, so I decided to work out my breathing, observing any sensations, huddling in the warmth of the husband who was snuggling peacefully, and walking around the house staggering. We had a planned CTG early in the morning, so there was nothing to worry about.

After the CTG, they also checked the uterine opening (and in vain, because I intuitively felt that it was early) and we went home. The contractions continued in the same mode throughout the day and became more painful at night. Unable to sleep, I wandered around the house, swaying in a slow dance and waiting for any change, which would mean it’s time to go to the hospital. Childbirth in water is exactly a pushing part in the water, no anesthesia or stimulation, so there is no point in going ahead of time. And it is better to sway at home. Eventually, the contractions began to be accompanied by something like fever, I started shaking, and the plug began to go out. The husband woke up by himself and asked if it was time to go, I said it was time and that I’ll just to jump into the shower and get dressed. But here is when everything went crazy.

When I sat down on the toilet, I felt something coming out of me, slippery like a gut and bluish. With trembling hands I tried to find out what that was on the forum, but Ukraine was asleep, in the meantime I started to feel something like pushing stage and panicked. What is this stupid bubble, there was nothing like that in the books! Suddenly I understood that I will not be able to sit in the car with that bubble, I told my husband to call the midwives to ask what it is, and call the ambulance. The ambulance was called at 7:45, and it arrived at 8:25). In the meantime, I was suffering from struggles in the bubbly uncertainty (no one was able to explain what this could be) and trying to put something on, because I took off my pants in order to go to the shower and was wearing only a t-shirt messed up by a breast milk leakage at night. It was already very difficult to move, I couldn’t even get into my pants with the help of my husband, so I tried to explain to him how to find a skirt.

He tried as hard as he could: first he brought me a cocktail dress and couldn’t understand why it didn’t fit the situation, then tried to find what I needed, but when I crawled out of the bathroom to see what on earth he was doing for so long, it turned that with full respect to my pedantry, knowing how much I hate the mess, the bewildered poor guy unfolds every thing and MAKES IT BACK. In a word I scraped everything from the closet to the floor, found a skirt, clamped it in my hand, and that’s exactly how, with it in my hand, I went to the hospital.

When the ambulance arrived, having lost 100 times in our complex area, it was immediately followed by the SPECIAL fast one – for pregnant women. Means, the ambulance was late and the ambulance was two ambulances ?. Meanwhile, I could no longer stand and collapsed on the bed, wrapped myself in a blanket and squeezed a pillow between my legs. When she tried to move them, I screamed with a wild cry in an effort not to push. In life, I would not have thought that I could shout LIKE THIS. Absolutely helpless paramedics were also unable to explain the bloody bubble and could not communicate effectively neither with us nor with each other.

At first they tried to turn me from side to back and to take a blanket from me, then they put an oxygen mask on me, then tried to make me get up and go to bed fast, as a result I told them that they will have to carry me as is, with a blanket and pillows. Eventually I was put on the bed, but instead of using the stairs, they decided to shove that bed into the elevator, and for this purpose it had to be folded a little (like, with live pregnant woman inside), which pulled another agony cry out of me.

Inside of the car, the Special Ambulance for Pregnant, there was absolutely NO WATER for poor birthing me. That’s when I realized I really was in the desert. My throat and mouth went so dry that I cried ‘water …’ as a psycho. The ‘dog’ breath with which I intuitively fought as much as I could took away the last possible moisture. As a result, one poor woman couldn’t stand it and gave me her own water. If she didn’t do that, most likely I would just die there.

They also put a needle in my arm, a preparation for the future dropper, like they were sure that such a psycho would certainly need it eventually. Somewhere along the way to the ward I managed to tear it and had my fingers covered with blood. Nobody, of course, gave me any dropper. All those events was accompanied by seizures, I felt incredibly cold, which created extra tension.

Finally, they allowed me to push and in 15 minutes and three strokes the baby sang the national anthem of Ukraine. Before the third time, I asked politely to tell me how to behave properly not to tear. You’re going to tear anyway, – I was told. Well, – I thought, and gave birth. It’s kind of like when the whole body slides out of you like a screwdriver after the head) Then I finally gave someone a skirt clamped all this time in my hands. This is how the worst waterbirth in human history occurred.

The umbilical cord was cut after it pulsed for 10 minutes, the husband shot a video of it, not, however, of high artistic value. Because I was stressed by the bubble and emergency, I was offered to inject oxytocin for the birth of the placenta and to inject a local anesthetic to sew the tear. While I was thinking, they were kindly waiting for the answer. I thought it through nicely as previously I’ve decided to avoid any stimulation, and agreed in order to get my rest faster. The baby was slightly wiped and put on me for the first feeding.

Further, only good things happened to me: the insurance covered two days in a separate ward with three meals a day and a sofa for my husband. The hospital does not have a ward for babies, babies stay with their mothers, or on their mothers. For me, it was the best resort in the world, few hotels have such conditions and attitude of staff. Nurses helped me to take the first steps, gave me tips on feeding, bathing, were extremely welcoming, good school. My placenta was not thrown away without permission, at the first opportunity I went to take look at it, and then gave them a permission to get rid of it. The first vaccines (BCG and hepatitis b) were injected with a boob in his mouth, which is the best anesthesia in the world. For measuring procedures, babies are placed on a heated table, so they do not scream like piglets. In short, I know that my experience was one of those best, though it did not work out as I dreamed, but everyone has their own, and I am grateful.

I would like to point out that the knowledge of proper breathing, etc., has helpful, but perhaps in part, in the majority I’ve listened to myself, and this is my advice to everyone, just in case. From experience, when you stop listening, your inner voice may become completely silent. And in the second place, never lose your curiosity, more knowledge – less fears.

And the bubble? It was the waters. They just didn’t break through for some reason. What about blue? Because the baby there was a little not restrained. And who would restrain in such a situation.

What do I feel? No, not the maternal instinct, but the infinite solidarity with the baby, my body feels quiet, fragile and tiny, and call it hormones, but I prefer to call it a state of great agitation, all these tears and spontaneous repetitions of tragic facial expressions and infirmities. There is a long way to go, and it is cool to feel that we are out of breath after the match, but still one team.

What else