12:35pm Tuesday 17th August 2010
For many women, having a home birth seems a natural way of bringing their new baby into the world – but what if it isn’t planned? Sarah Foster describes how Hannah arrived unexpectedly in her bedroom.
IT was just about the last thing I’d expected. Having endured a long and arduous labour with my first child, Ella, now two-and-a-half, with my second daughter, Hannah, I thought I was in for another long haul. True, I was hoping it might be quicker – people had said that second deliveries generally are – but I was thinking maybe half the time.
Certainly a good few hours of grinning and bearing it. Imagine my surprise then when, instead of the 29-and-a-half hour marathon I experienced the first time around, Hannah popped out in less than four, landing unceremoniously in my bewildered husband’s hands.
It all began at about 7pm. I was giving my older daughter her tea when I started feeling a few suspicious twinges. Always one to err on the side of caution, I thought I’d give it a little while longer before assuming I was in labour, so carried on as normal, doing the washing up and ironing my husband Paul’s shirt. It wasn’t until Ella was safely in bed that I tentatively said: “Darling, I think the baby’s on its way.”
Typically, Paul was instantly harassed while I, being the sober, reflective one, tried to keep an aura of control. “Don’t worry,” I remember saying. “It’s just like the first time round. It’s going to be hours yet.” So confident did I feel – and so mild were the contractions – that I sat and ate my dinner and chatted calmly on the phone for the next three hours. At 10pm I announced that I was off to bed and Paul said he would come with me. On his iPhone, he’d found an app to time contractions (there really is an app for everything) and I was tasked with pressing some silly button every time I had one.
It was at this point that things began to go awry. My contractions had suddenly, and inexplicably, ramped up to every three-or-so minutes. Still I believed I had plenty of time. Last time, I remembered, I had similar such blips. I was sure the contractions would subside.
Paul, however, was becoming anxious.
“I’d better ring the hospital,” he said. “And your sister. Just to be on the safe side.”
Meanwhile, I got up and went to the bathroom. “Something is about to happen,” I remember thinking, assuming that my waters were about to break. Then came another crippling contraction. I was on the floor in agony when Paul pressed his phone to my ear. “It’s the midwife,”
he said apologetically. “She insists on speaking to you.”
Her first words were: “Have you had a hot bath?” Barely able to speak, I gasped that no, I hadn’t and that perhaps it might be a little late for all that. “Okay, you’d better come in then – if you feel you have to,” was her grudging response.
I moved to the bedroom intending to get dressed, but by now the pain was so strong that I couldn’t move. I lay slumped over the bed, dimly aware of Paul fussing next door, until I felt something. The knowledge that it was the baby’s head travelling downwards was blunted by yet another searing contraction.
“You’re going to have to come in here,” I managed to call. “The baby’s coming now.” “Oh my God. What am I going to do?” came Paul’s fraught reply. I thought of suggesting he ring an ambulance, but as Hannah slid consummately from my body, all thoughts were lost. She was not so much delivered as caught by a shellshocked Paul.
THE paramedics were greeted by a scene of carnage. I felt a bit sorry for the middle-aged man who was the more senior of the two – clearly home births weren’t his thing – but soon the hospital was informed and I was being helped into my clothes. I was to go to the antenatal ward, where Hannah could be checked out, though it seemed plain that all was well. Little Hannah, for her part, was coping admirably.
She had emerged bright-eyed and inquisitive into a scene of utter chaos.
Reflecting on the drama, and safe in the knowledge that all had ended well, both Paul and I were struck by how natural it had seemed. It may not have been what we had planned, but Paul had delivered his own daughter. How truly special and amazing was that? It is a memory he will cherish forever.
In having a home birth, I was among a tiny annual percentage of women in the UK. The number of unplanned home deliveries is not recorded, but the national figure overall for 2008 was less than three per cent, according to Birth Choice UK. So should better provision be made for mothers who end up giving birth at home by accident? Could fathers, too, who are commonly left dealing with the situation, be given more support?
Julia McDonald, a specialist worker for the National Childbirth Trust, believes so. “I would love to see some provision for men being able to debrief their experiences, because I think it’s almost more shocking for the man than the woman.”
According to Julia, having an unplanned home birth is rare. She estimates that out of more than 2,000 first-time mums she has tutored, only one or two have ended up in this situation.
She offers words of reassurance.
“Almost anywhere you live in this country you can get some help very quickly. I would say first of all call for help – 24/7 there’s someone on the phone to help you – and then I would reassure women that if it’s happening that easily, you probably won’t have to do anything.
“He or she is just going to be born.”
■ For information and advice on home births, visit nct.org.uk or ring 0300-330-0772.
GIRL GUIDING has moved on from the days of collecting badges and making WI-style homecrafts. The mission this year is all about cleaning up the business of airbrushing.
The organisation is campaigning for warning symbols to be stamped on airbrushed pictures to curb a rise in eating disorders. More than 20,000 people are expected to sign an online petition demanding compulsory labelling for magazines and adverts to allow often-impressionable, consumers to spot altered imagery from the genuine article.
The Guides launched their Government-targeted campaign after unveiling research indicating girls as young as ten are worried about their weight and half of teenagers would consider cosmetic surgery.
■ Sign up to the Girlguiding UK against airbrushing campaign at girlguiding.org.uk
IF there's one thing the recession has taught us about style, it’s how to work a basic. And this summer the T-shirt has taken on a life of its own as the must-have staple.
Tees were weaved throughout the spring/summer catwalks in a variety of forms and fits. Calvin Klein worked long T-vests under blazers, Meadham Kirchhoff showcased structured metallic shades and House of Holland displayed tongue-in-cheek slogan styles. What's more, the minimalist, pared-down look is a hot trend for the autumn/winter season, making T-shirts the basic to believe in right now.
The tee is the ideal layering essential to see you through that tricky transition period, when your summer wardrobe suddenly seems too flimsy.
So raid your closet or hit the shop: it’s time to go back to basics.
CHANGING room fatigue? Little wonder when the average woman will try on more than 21,000 items of clothing in her lifetime – but only buy half.
On average, women hit the shops four times a month, says the latest Lambrini Lady fashion study.
We rack up 240 garments a year at the tills, or 10,560 over a typical shopping lifespan of 45 years.
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