The Birth of
Jaiden.
By Gail Filmer
Jaiden's story is somewhat convoluted. The end result was
brought about by many factors, some known, some that have
surfaced as time has past.
Let's start at the beginning. I was twenty when I found
myself pregnant with Jaiden. It was a shock to both me and
my then boyfriend. The pregnancy was a breeze, with minimal
morning sickness and a few aches and pains. Physically I was
in great shape; I was swimming a few times a week and worked
full time until I was approximately thirty-six weeks. I only
stopped too have a rest and because the hours were starting
to tire me.
I probably should have worked a bit longer at less hours,
because not having much to do meant that I got very bored.
On top of this I had too much time to dwell on the birth. My
fears and reservations kicked in, at full strength, causing
me to not welcome the birth although I wanted to greet my
baby desperately. You see two events in my life had
traumatised me deeply. Firstly, I was abused as a young
child, which left me with a fear of being touched in certain
ways, so I was dreading the internal examinations. It also
left me with the ideology of the 'dirty/unworthy body',
which is very hard to get past. The other was the loss of my
mother as a young teenager.
So here I was facing an inevitable birth without the one
person, I wanted to support me, my mother. I was scared and
unsure about what was going to happen and had no one to
share my concerns with. I also got married to my now husband
at seven months pregnant, it was a fabulous day.
Then I spontaneously had contractions in the evening,
they were short but intense and every twenty minutes or so.
The contractions lasted for several hours and then faded.
This happened every couple of days for about a week. Then on
the weekend I was greeted with more contractions and loose
bowels, but infuriatingly these also faded after a
while.
On Monday my husband and I went for a swim, because
nothing was happening. I swam a few laps quietly, but still
nothing happened. On Tuesday in desperation I made, my first
mistake. I took castor oil and orange juice, a disgusting
concoction. By this stage, ten days late, I wanted it out,
no matter what it took. After drinking the concoction we
went down to the park to take the dog for a walk. While
there I threw up, probably the castor oil and orange juice I
had just taken, after which we went home in case things got
going because I had driven down to the park and had to drive
back.
Soon after arriving home contractions started. This time
they started fairly mildly, I could breathe through them.
But they got stronger quickly and I started to panic which
made everything seem worse and with no-one to reassure me
the situation fed on itself. I have since read that panic is
not conducive to an easy labour as the hormones in action
are working against one another. I got into the bath, but
could not relax and the pain started to make me sick. So I
rang the hospital, who said it sounded like I was in early
labour and to ring back when I wanted to come in. So I went
back to the bath and tried to get comfortable. The water
around my stomach and a hot pack on my back did help with
the pain, making it bearable, but I was still intensely
unsure of myself and still panicking.
At about mid-night I decided I had had enough and wanted
to go to the hospital. So I rang back up and said I was
coming in. At the hospital I succumbed to the patient
mentality, certainly not feeling particularly empowered,
rather like I had been hit by a mac truck at speed. I wanted
it over as soon as possible. Once there I was checked in and
left free to my own devices in the spa which was relative
bliss, probably because it was coupled with a shot of
pethidine.
Sometime in the early morning while I was sitting on the
toilet I felt a pop, but no fluid followed. I called a nurse
or mid-wife and from that moment on it was a nightmare. This
time they panicked, with no explanation I was rushed into a
birthing room and strapped to a monitor, to which all eyes
were glued and no-one bothered to explain what was
happening. Although David held my hand no-one really
explained anything to us. Then after what seemed like ages,
with the baby's heart rate dipping dramatically and
recovering slowly, it was decided that I would have an
emergency caesarean. So papers were signed and everyone did
all the preparations in great haste. They were charging
around everywhere and then suddenly it stopped and I waited.
And waited. No explanation was given, I still waited. They
gave me something to stop the contractions and the baby's
heart rate seemed to improve. I was transferred to a room, I
assume to wait for a theatre as no explanation was given. As
it turns out the doctors had to call in the anaesthetist,
but the doctor who was supposed to call the anaesthetist
hadn't because he thought that someone else was.
Consequently I waited some more while they actually
officially called the anaesthetist in. Only the location
changed, I was transported and set up in theatre. All this
time no-one had bothered to do anymore than hold my hand.
Anyway, the anaesthetist turned up and did his job, very
well, as I was incoherent and sleepy for most of the first
day. Although I did wake briefly while being wheeled to my
room or recovery I don't know which. I did have a passing
glimpse at a baby with reddish coloured hair wrapped in a
rug that my husband was holding, but they never stopped the
bed so that I could greet it properly. In fact, my first
clear recollection of meeting Jaiden was mid-morning. But it
was more like strangers than mother and son.
The whole experience left me very traumatised, so much so
that I experienced post-traumatic and depression. This took
many months to over come, in fact I only started to bond
with my child when I got in the bath at home with him and
welcomed him how I had wanted to in the beginning. Over the
months the nightmares and flashbacks got less and the
depression lifted through reading everything that I could
get my hands on regarding caesareans and through talking to
people who have had similar experiences.
At the time of writing this story I am twenty six weeks
pregnant with my second child, whose birth I pray, shall be
more empowering and peaceful than Jaiden's birth was. And I
can honestly say that I am thoroughly bonded with Jaiden and
love him with my heart even though it took a while to
happen.
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