The Anxious Mumma: Birth Story

36 WEEKS

When I reached 36 weeks we decided that because I live two hours away from my chosen hospital and because I was having a lot of anxiety surrounding going into labour at home, I would be induced at 38+2.

37 WEEKS

In between my 36 week appointment and my 37-week appointment I was not dealing well with the anxiety. I was overwhelmed. I was tired. I was consumed with anxiety. After discussions with my midwife, my OBGYN and my psych, we decided to scrap the induction and go with an elective c-section instead. I truly don’t believe I was in the right mindset to go through birth. I knew I could do it physically, it was mentally that I had no faith in.

At this point, I was very confident in my decision and the knowledge that I knew exactly what was going to happen really helped. After the decision was made another appointment was made for me to sit down with my OBGYN and in that appointment she basically did a mock C-section where I was taken through everything that would happen. This, helped me tremendously, having the knowledge of what was going to happen and when.

I was booked in for my C-section at 38+1- the Tuesday after a long weekend. Due to my reasoning behind the elective surgery (mental health), I was given the first place of the day so I was to be in there at 6:30 am, giving me as little time as possible to work myself up.

38 WEEKS

The day I hit 38 weeks Brodie and I drove from the beach where we spent the night with my family (it was a long weekend) to Joondalup where I would get my pre-op blood done and then spend the night in a hotel with Brodie.

I did my blood at 10am and then we walked around the shopping centre waiting for 2pm check-in. Before we got out of the car at the shopping centre I said to Brodie “I feel weird” but I mean at 38 weeks pregnant was I supposed to feel normal? While we walked around I was getting pains in my stomach but again- I was about to have a baby so not thinking anything of it.

We checked in, I did a little work, had a nap, thought about what I was going to have for dinner… and started having contractions. Because of course, I did. Murphys Law said I was going to go into labour the day before a planned C-section.

I started timing my contractions but I started to work myself up that I wouldn’t be able to go through with my C-section because I was already in labour so I called the hospital in a bit of panic. They wanted me to come in (and not eat dinner just in case) which look, was fucking horrible.

Honestly, I thought they were going to send up home so I began to calm down while we watched The Block on the TV in the observation room. The midwife did the checks she had to do and went off to consult with the on-call OBGYN. I continued to plan what I was going to eat when we were let out because I was bloody hungry.

I was wrong. The midwife walked back in and her words were “who’s ready to have a baby tonight”. Could I have opened my eye any wider? Probably not. While I was a little shocked I think this was the best possible thing that could have happened because had I been sent home I probably would have spent the whole night freaking out and working myself up, not sleeping and just putting myself in a terrible headspace. I knew Brodie was also freaking out but he tried (a little unsuccessfully) to put on a brave face.

Brodie left to go and get our bags because we hadn’t brought them, thinking we were going to go back home. At this point, I was just trying to put all my focus on watching The Block (serious, did anyone else really get into it this year?) and not on what was about to happen. I didn’t feel much anxiety at all until the moment the transport bed showed up at the door to take me to the theatre. Then shit started to get real.

I remember sitting in a waiting area for a while because the anaesthetist was supervising somewhere else. I also remember meeting him in that area and feeling so overwhelmed, but he ran me through everything again. He could see I was starting to panic so he basically said if at any point I couldn’t do it anymore, he was able to knock me out fully. And believe me, I considered it so many times.

The epidural was fine, honestly, I was expecting it to be worse. I did however know not to look in Brodie’s direction while it was happening because I can just imagine what his face was doing. I fucking hated the feeling of nothing, obviously, I didn’t want to feel what was going on but I didn’t want to feel nothing either.

I was expecting to feel more, to be honest. Everyone told me you would feel pulling etc, but I didn’t even realise they had begun until the anaesthetist told me the baby was nearly here.

I’ve heard all these mums talk about the rush of emotions and love they feel towards their baby the first time they see them. No one talks about feeling nothing except the urge to vomit. I honestly don’t even remember that first look because I was too busy motioning for someone to get me a spew bag. Brodie probably showed him to me a couple of times after that but I don’t remember it. I remember me spewing until they gave me the anti-nausea medication via a drip and the midwife taking Brodie and the baby away to do whatever they did.

while I’m as laying there waiting to be stitched up, I don’t think I knew what to think. What was I supposed to be thinking? Was I supposed to have cried? Was I supposed to remember what he looked like? I had no idea.

In recovery, where I was stuck for a while because the block went up my body before it went down (of course it did), I was by myself- no one else in the recovery ward, Brodie and the baby in our room and just one nurse who looked a little bored. Brodie sent me through some photos from the room, a selfie with the baby and one of what he weighed. Of course, I put them in the family group chat.

When I got to the room I was exhausted and hungry. The hunger was to be expected, I hadn’t eaten since lunch and it was now nearing midnight. What I didn’t expect was to be exhausted, I mean I didn’t really do any work?

Our first night I obviously couldn’t walk so I had to throw something at Brodie every time Cody cried and he didn’t notice. Because we were still under observation Brodie was stuck on an uncomfortable couch that made a horrible noise every time he moved. Because I was bottle-feeding from the outset (a decision I made for my own mental health) it made things easier because Brodie and I could share the feeding duty.

Once the catheter was taken out (which feels very uncomfortable) that first shower the next day after surgery was the worst. I could only stand for a couple of minutes and then spent more time sitting on a chair in the bathroom trying to stop the room from spinning. Miraculously there was no vomit. I would have loved to have a long shower, wander my hair, wash my body etc, but obviously, that was out of the question. It was a quick wash to get the bed smell and the blood off me and back to bed on my pyjamas.

By day two I felt somewhat normal again. I mean there was a pain getting in and out of bed and rolling over but I felt like a weight had been lifted off my chest (or out of my stomach).

We stayed in the hospital for five days, Brodie was able to stay with me the whole time, which was incredibly beneficial for me. He also stayed home for a further week and a bit when we got home which helped with the settling in period.

In the hospital, I was very anxious to be left alone with Cody, and when the nurses came in I felt like they were going to judge me, that I was doing something wrong so I usually let (forced) Brodie to take the lead. Once we got home I felt more comfortable and confident in my abilities as a mother. Together, Cody and I continue to grow and learn new things.

You can find more of our daily happenings on @the.anxiousmumma