Well I'll quickly start off by saying after one surgery to remove a cyst, numerous scars burnt off, my ovary separated from my uterus, one medically terminated pregnancy, a chemical pregnancy and then an ectopic pregnancy found and removed along with my left tube, countless doctors told me "You won't fall pregnant naturally, your only option is IVF". Three months later, I was looking at a positive pregnancy test, and six weeks later, I was looking at a tiny little sac, sitting perfectly in my uterus where it belonged.
On Saturday 28th April, I woke up, again still pregnant. My partner decided to head to Brisbane, approximately 45 minutes away from home to head to a car show. It was roughly 11 am, and I started to feel some sort of light aches. My partner insisted we stay home in case I was in labour. To which I responded, don't be silly, it will be hours away. Let's go. Fast forward a few hours, stuffing my face with hot chips, I started thinking okay these are getting a little more intense but keep a straight face. We got home at about 5 pm, and I still wasn't 100% sure I was in labour, so I rang mum, had a shower and decided to head to the hospital around 6 pm, so they could confirm it was go time. We arrived, and they decided to check how dilated I was, I was 2cm, and they sent me home and said come back when you can't bear the pain anymore.
We got home at around 9 pm, and my partner decided he needed some rest haha, so he went to bed. I was still feeling reasonably fine at this stage, so I sat on the lounge from about 10 pm with the pain just getting stronger and stronger. All I could do was moan. I swear I wasn't breathing, just hardcore moaning, it was the only thing that was getting me through. I can only imagine what my neighbours were thinking. I kept thinking I'm probably only about 3 or 4 cm it's going to get so much worse, keep pushing through. At about 5 am, I scream out to Jarrod we need to go now! Within 5 minutes we were in the car.
We arrived at the hospital at roughly 6 am, and I couldn't walk. I was having contractions the whole way to the ward. We got inside a room, and I spewed all over myself, my adrenaline was pumping. They did a quick check and said 'oh my goodness, you're almost 8cm'. I was utterly shocked and secretly praising myself for getting to that stage on my own, on my lounge, at home. The midwife said you will have this baby by 10 am; I was pumped. We got this amazing room with a massive spa bath and a beautiful wall covered in rainforest wallpaper. As I didn't have a birth plan, I thought yep I'm getting in this bath. Let's have a water birth. The midwives came and prepped me for it and then it was just the waiting game.
I couldn't tell you how long I was in the bath, but I had to get out of the tub because I kept overheating. I was alternating between bath, shower, standing, rocking, just chilling around the room. They checked bub and said I now had to lay down as they had to attach the monitor to his head, through my vagina. I was now bedridden. By this time, 10 am had come and gone, and my contractions were slowing down, 10 minutes apart but extremely long and strong. The midwives said, "okay, this has been going on a while; we are going to up the ante and give you something to increase the contractions." They asked if I wanted some gas. I was travelling along well and completely forgot you could ask for pain relief. Bloody rookie. Up until that point, I couldn't have a contraction without holding Jarrod's hand, so he never left my side. I am sure I squeezed his hand to within an inch of its life. Just before increasing my contractions, they asked if I wanted the epidural. This was not something I had ruled out, but I had already come so far. My mind was racing, do I, don't I? In the end, the head midwife said to me "you need it, you need your energy to push, I recommend it, we are going to be here for a few more hours." So, I agreed.
Within two minutes, the anaesthetist was there, and I was bent over getting the needle. Easy peasy. Best decision ever. They increased my contractions, but they started going too fast, then too slow and would not level out for me to push. What was happening? 3,4,5pm rolled around and still no baby. No one was checking me, and we were all just waiting around watching the monitor. I kept thinking, what's the hold-up? I bet they end up taking me for a c-section, why aren't they telling us anything?! I finally said, "can you check me?" They did and said his head was there. My response was "take a photo", and everyone looked at me like I was crazy. I never got the picture lol. The midwife said, give us a push, and my body instantly started shaking. What? Now? How? I pushed, and the midwives said: "yep let's go it's time."
Within seconds I had four midwives surrounding me, Jarrod on one leg, a midwife on the other bearing down for me to push. They guided me to push, three times and our baby was born at 6.41pm Sunday 29th April after 30 hours of labour. The cord around his neck. They shouted at Jarrod, cut the cord and rushed him away. I couldn't hear any crying. I started screaming why isn't he crying, why isn't he crying and before I could repeat it he was on my chest — the most perfect little thing I had ever seen.
I don't remember birthing the placenta. I just remember them saying okay you have a tear, and we need to stitch you. My first question was I didn't rip the thing, you know 'the thing'. They assured me I hadn't, and I had six internal stitches. That for me, was the worst pain of it all. I was sucking on the gas like my life depended on it, plus they were about to take it away, so I was making the most of it haha.
I did it; I was a mum. I was absolutely smitten. Baby Jessy Phillip Radford was absolute perfection, and from that moment on I was never the same again.
