Little Miss P turned 1 on Christmas Eve. Now there's a head spinner. Two things stood out about the day. Firstly she has gone from being 'a deprived child', as my mother describes her, due to the lack of toys she owns (well, all she needs is a box of pegs and she's happy), to owning half of Toys R Us. My front room is a rainbow bright, plastic, flashing ayesaw.
Secondly, I found myself reliving my pregnancy and labour in my head. Spookily I even woke up at 1.15am, the time P was born and again at 5am (the time the midwives, Mr Scruff and my sanity left me alone with my child).
So with the memory fresh in my mind, I thought I would share my experience.
I'm the sort of person who likes things just so. I want things to go smoothly, nay, perfectly. If they don't I beat myself over the head with a club. I wanted a natural birth. Who doesn't? About four months into my pregnancy I was told about The Gentle Birth Method, by Dr Gowri Motha, a London based obstetrician loved by Gwynnie Paltrow, Kate Moss and Elle MacPherson. Her idea seemed simple. Prepare your mind and body through routines, diet and exercise and you can have a natural, wonderful birth. I'm sold. Where do I sign?
I immersed myself in the method. Dived in head first. Became obsessed. I cut out wheat and sugar from my diet, as the book suggested, smug in the knowledge my uterus would not be clogged with fat and carbs. I swam three times a week, walked everywhere and practised the twenty minute yoga routine she recommends everyday, without fail.
I attended one of her courses at the Viveka center in St. Johns Wood. It cost me a small fortune and it was something we really could not afford with a baby on the way, but I insisted and Mr Scruff knew better than to argue with a pregnant lady on a mission. In the classes we learned about visualisation, finding our happy and safe place, massage techniques and ways to lull ourselves into a relaxed state. It followed pretty much everything that is in the book, which did leave me feeling a little short changed, but I justified it by assuring myself this was an opportunity for Mr Scruff to take in all the information.
As the weeks went by I listened to the visualisation tapes over and over again. They talked through the ideal birth scenario. What was happening to my body, taking me to a safe place. When I listened to the tapes I felt calm and happy knowing that I was doing something positive that (I thought) would affect my labour experience.
Mr Scruff and I practised the massage techniques whenever I could persuade him too. We'd create a calming environment and he would follow the diagrams, sweeping, stroking and pressing. Sometimes he got it spot on, other times, his following the instructions like a novice cook following a recipe, would leave me seething with stress and frustration! We even practised the perineal stretch. I went so far as to use the special oil and muslin 'bundles', which they sold on the course, fearing if I didn't I would tear.
Despite the insane discipline I put on myself, I had never felt better. My body was a temple. Ironically I was the fittest I have ever been (and the most trim, bar the enormous bump). I felt strong. Proof of this was in my seventh month of pregnancy. Mr Scruff and I jetted off for a weeks holiday - a babymoon. A last chance for us to relax before our lives changed forever. Two days in, Mr Scruff collapsed and was rushed to hospital. There he stayed for a month undergoing tests and treatments. Throughout the whole ordeal, I kept it together. Every morning I did my yoga routine and then traveled the two hour bus ride to the hospital listening to my tapes. When I returned in the evening I would swim twenty lengths before heading down to my usual table set for one in the hotel dining room (forgoing the pasta - in Italy of all places!) The routine gave me focus. Despite the incredibly stressful situation, I felt good. I felt healthy. I felt strong. Thankfully Mr Scruff recovered and we were able to return to London.
As the final weeks approached, I did slow down - I had to. My bump was enormous and getting about was a struggle. I didn't stop walking and I never gave up the diet although I did enjoy a cream meringue at my baby shower, but just the one!
My due date came and went. I started to panic. The thought of an induction filled me with dread. Day and night I bounced on my yoga-ball. I ate curries and enough pineapple to start sprouting palm leaves, Mr Scruff got lucky in the bedroom (although he said he had never felt so unromantic in his life) and I even endured a horrific cupful of castor oil. At the hospital I went through two sweeps and the most painful and prolonged acupuncture session - I was a human pin cushion. Still no baby.
Because Christmas day was fast approaching, my hospital booked me in for my induction - that night. I was so upset I brought on pre-eclampsia, losing my vision as my blood pressure shot through the roof.
I will spare you the gory details of my labour, but I will say it was intense. There were complications, dramatic moments,
lots of gas and air. In the end, after a failed ventouse, I had a episiotomy and Little Miss P was brought into the world with forceps, like a cherry tomato plucked from a salad.
It took me a long time to recover from the labour. Physically I had a few problems with infections and the like, but mostly I was traumatised. I struggled to come to terms that, despite all my efforts, my birth did not go to plan. This was not like the case studies I had read. This was not a Gentle Birth.
Do I regret following The Gentle Birth Method? Yes and no. I felt great during my pregnancy and I have the book to thank. I regret being so strict with myself. Little Miss P is riddled with allergies and the guilt of me eliminating so many foods during pregnancy never leaves my mind, despite the hospital telling me that's not the case. But what I regret most is that I pinned too many hopes on it. My reaction and recovery from my labour, I believe, would have been far less stressful and more swift, had I considered, if only for a second, that we cannot control nature, and although my efforts were a positive step, they were not to be relied on.
