I thought “I want to read her books if I ever get pregnant again”… So, once the first 12 weeks of pregnancy were safely behind us), I diligently ordered a copy of her first book, “The positive birth book”.  

This is an informative and empowering reading, particularly for first-time moms-to-be or mummies who are looking for ways to have more control over and improve on their subsequent birthing experiences. With exposure to the medical systems in three different countries on two continents, with different approaches and options offered to women to give birth, I found the book an especially useful read for women who give birth in traditionally highly medicalised or interventionist settings. 

It can help ease a lot of the anxiety and fears first time moms-to-be experience. It challenges some of the common misconceptions and negative perceptions around birth. It is packed with research-based data, medical and birthing experts’ opinions and all kinds of personal birthing stories. Although rooted in the anglo-saxon ways of doing things, there are many important lessons that can be drawn to improve on birthing experiences of women everywhere. 

I have a positive recollection about the birth of my son: a quick, natural birth, in an informal, quiet, cosy, non-medicalised setting, with a midwife who only made her presence known when absolutely necessary, my husband next to me. The book reinforced my belief that I had done the right things the first time around to help me birth my baby as I wanted and the  wish that my second birthing experience resembles the first one. I noted down a few tricks for labour and preparation for labour looking at how I could improve on my first experience. 

I definitely want to practice more and regularly (and starting much earlier) staying into the relaxed zone. I remember how difficult it was to stay relaxed and focused on breathing during the active phase of labour. I felt out of control of what was happening. I thought about making up my own affirmations and practicing one or two visualisations of my own (e.g talking to my baby, imagining moments together with baby and little gosling, cuddling, singing or reading together or just spending time outdoors). I would also like to try and be more present during labour, including active labout, taking mental notes of my sensations, for an accurate picture of my birthing story. 

I will make sure to have the image of different birthing positions at hand and put a note to move more. During my first labour, I was quite static. This worked amazingly well for me during the first stages, being all relaxed, either sleeping or in the bathtub, listening to my relaxation tracks. The later stages were messy and although I tried a few different things, maybe, just maybe, moving around more (maybe dancing? :)))) and trying a richer variety of positions could render it more manageable. 

More importantly, the book inspired me with two intentions (may be common sense to many, but not obvious to me): 

• Be more assertive in my interactions with doctors/caregivers. Ask questions; discuss options and alternatives; ask for pros and cons. Not be afraid to say “no” or “I want to do things differently”, “I want to wait a while longer” if something does not feel right. One thing I would definitely be more inquisitive and assertive about is the idea of a possible induction or a membranes sweep. Little gosling was born at 41 weeks exactly, a few hours before a planned membranes sweep which we had accepted without much questioning, but very anxiously, purely trusting our midwife. 

• Stay open-minded and flexible about the way in which birthing could go. If my plan A cannot happen (a natural, full-term, non-medicalised birth), there are ways to make other courses of action more palatable. I intend to prepare myself as much as possible, so as to have a birthing experience that I can feel good about and remember without angst.

The post My (Second) Pregnancy Diary: The Positive Birth Book appeared first on Mommy Goose Chronicles.

My period properly returned one year after little gosling’s birth. I had felt some cramping from six months post-birth and some light occasional spotting from 9 months post-birth onwards, but it was around 12-13 months that it came back in all strength. 

At around 9-10 months post-birth I had seen a GP. He advised a general ultrasound to check that all inside of me was ok. I had an ultrasound of the abdominal cavity, including ovaries and uterus, and everything was deemed in order. As I had expected, he suggested extended breastfeeding could delay another pregnancy. I had no intention of altering our breastfeeding journey, so I plainly ignored that part. 

I had (and still have) a very positive recollection of my birth experience (shared here), but the negative emotions, the anger and anxiety that surrounded the post-birth complications and the way in which they were medically dealt with (my story here), took a while to fade away. I still remember conversations with my husband the weeks and months after it was all over.. He was seriously considering avoiding a second pregnancy and opening to the idea of adopting instead, just to avoid the risk of reliving the first post-birth experience. The idea of giving birth again brought me to tears.  

I did not see a gynae for a while after the birth experience. The doctor who had followed my pregnancy had not answered my messages after the birth of my little gosling and that had made me feel disappointed and distrustful. I kept recommending her to other women around me, but I did not feel comfortable seeing her again. Neither me, nor particularly my husband felt comfortable going back to the gynae who had managed by post-birth complications. We blamed her for having to go through a second curettage and an abdominal surgery. The expat women around me saw one of these two doctors and I felt uneasy about seeking advice from strangers. I kept postponing seeing a gynae and felt reassured with my GP’s advice.  

With all these in mind, we felt ready to try again. We were quite laid back about it, much like the first time, when we had just stopped using any contraception and let it happen (which it had fairly quickly, with no stress, just a few months later). This time we kept a closer look at the calendar. I was expecting it to happen as easily and naturally as it had then. It did not. 

I remember seeing my GP at around 13-14 months post-birth. He made me pee on a stick, can’t remember why. What I do remember, however, is the deep sense of hope, followed by a huge disappointment when it came back negative. He suggested again that breastfeeding would be an obstacle to a second pregnancy and advised me to start tracking my ovulation to actively help my chances. We did that for a couple of months. I was ovulating each month, but no pregnancy ensued.

I got curious and stumbled online upon the concept of secondary infertility. This is the inability to conceive a child (or carry a pregnancy to full term) after previously giving birth, assuming the previous birth occurred without fertility treatments. Secondary infertility typically is diagnosed after trying unsuccessfully to conceive for six months to a year. No idea whether this timeline holds for parents of all ages (we were both 35+). None of the medical professionals I saw in the past year used that term concerning my situation, but I could not have been very far. It appears to be a phenomenon as common as primary infertility. It was a surprising discovery for me. The fact that it was a medical condition labeled as such somehow reassured me. It was something that happened. I also just had a colleague giving birth to her second child completely unexpectedly in her early 40’s, more than ten years after the first child and without purposefully trying to have a second child. So, we continued trying, more or less organised about tracking the ovulation periods. 

A few months later we moved back to Brussels. Little gosling was 18 months old. I had the intention to see my regular gynae, but kept postponing for until after little gosling was settled into the nursery; after we came back from my grandpa’s funeral; after the one month Christmas holiday with my parents in Romania; after we had settled into our newly rented apartment…. Then the pandemics came upon us and somehow, going to the clinic and seeing a doctor for non-urgent matters became close to impossible for the first months. Ten months passed before I actually got to see my gynae. Little gosling was 2 years and a half by now.  

The check-up was routine-like to me. I shared my story with the gynae – the expression of cautious disbelief on his face upon hearing how it all had happened! I asked whether there were any obstacles preventing me from getting pregnant again, as we had been trying for many months with no result. I remember asking this more out of curiosity and to check a box (since I was there anyway…), than out of serious concern that something could be wrong. We kept trying, without any pressure on us; we wanted a second child and gave ourselves time until we turned 40, but put no pressure on ourselves. 

The gynae very calmly explained the ultrasound revealed something on one of my tubes that needed to be further checked. He had also noticed adhesions in the uterus, a rather common occurrence following surgical interventions like those I had experienced, he explained. He recommended both a hysteroscopy and a hysterosalpingography, which he described as specialised medical imagery tests, one resembling an ultrasound with a telescope going inside the uterus and tubes, the other a localised X-ray of uterus and fallopian tubes with a contrast substance. He also prescribed some blood tests. His tone and demeanour were calm and not a bit alarming. He said we would figure it out. As always, he would only call me if there was a problem with the results. I left the office without any alarm bells ringing. 

I gave blood the same day. The following evening the gynae called me. The blood tests had detected the presence of the pregnancy hormone, but in a quantity that signalled an unhealthy pregnancy. I was shocked and froze on the spot (I had come out of the supermarket to take the call), trying to process it all. I had just had a normal period two weeks before. Gynae said it must have been a false period; the pregnancy was several weeks. And the embryo must have been what he had detected in my tube during the ultrasound. He called me back the next morning to redo the blood tests. If the hormone levels were going up, an intervention could become necessary in order to remove the ectopic pregnancy. If hormone levels were going down, there was a chance I could get away without an intervention. 

I shared the news with my husband. He was equally taken aback. We had not seen this coming. We were dismayed. All I knew about ectopic pregnancies was the experience of a colleague who had undergone interventions to remove both her tubes following two consecutive ectopic pregnancies and had been left unable to conceive naturally. I found the prospect of another curettage daunting. It brought back all the anger and frustration from the post-birth times. It was all I could think about. I felt guilty and blamed myself for waiting so long before seeing a gynae. If only I had seen my gynae upon returning to Brussels! I blamed the gynae who had dealt with my post-birth complications for not alerting us to the risk of uterine adhesions and insisting on regular, frequent follow-ups. She must have known uterine adhesions were a common occurrence and a strong possibility in my case and that they could lead to possible difficulties for a second pregnancy, if left unchecked. Why didn’t she take the trouble of even mentioning this to us? If only she had… 

I shared the news with a couple of my mummy friends for support and alerted my mom – in case of an intervention, we planned on flying her over to help with little gosling. One thing we had learned from prior experience is that one knows how you go into the theatre, but there is no guarantee on how one comes out and how long the recovery takes. 

The next morning gynae did another ultrasound, to check whether there was any change with the tube. Everything looked the same it had days before. He explained the risks carried by an ectopic pregnancy as advanced as mine – more than six weeks. Rupture of the tube, internal bleeding.. And there’s a limited timespan before it ruptures the tube. An intervention, if required, would need to take place within days, to avoid the risk of the pregnancy rupturing the tube and provoking further damage. 

I redid the blood tests. That same evening the doctor called with “good” news. The hormone levels had gone down (from 20 to 1), meaning the pregnancy was dying on its own. No intervention was needed. I felt relieved. And I still had my tube. The embryo would be expelled by the body at the next menstruation that would take place in 10-14 days. He insisted for me to make the appointment for the two medical imagery tests immediately after that. And I did. 

A couple of days before the date for the tests, I started developing COVID symptoms. That week, little gosling’s nursery had been quarantined for a week upon detection of the virus among the carers. It was a Sunday. The on-call doctors told me to continue monitoring symptoms and see a GP if they persisted/got worse. The night before my tests, I developed a light fever. I called the hospital the next morning and was advised to cancel my tests and call back the following month. Both tests need to be performed within a certain interval at the end of the period, so one can’t really plan much in advance. Add to the uncertainty I felt about a COVID infection the frustration of having to delay the tests and wait another month. Luckily for us, we sailed rather easily through COVID, with only mild, albeit disconcerting symptoms. 

35 days passed without any period. No, I was not pregnant. I was worried. What did it all mean? I went to see my gynae again. He confirmed the situation was unchanged, as well as the absence of a pregnancy. He revealed a bit more on the occasion, saying the tube where the ectopic pregnancy had been was dilated and I really needed to do those imagery tests to have a better look at them and decide the course of action. Particularly so if I wanted another baby. But even without it, it would need monitoring. There was the possibility of a rupture of the tube, in which case I risked an internal haemorrhage. According to him, the period delay could have been due to COVID and prescribed me some pills (Lutenyl) to bring about the menstruation. One pill and one day later, there it was. 

It was a difficult period for both myself and my husband. We were feeling discouraged. Angry that all this should have happened to us. My husband was quite affected by the ectopic pregnancy and the idea of pregnancy loss. A chance lost. At the time, I was so shocked and so anxious about the possibility of yet another curettage and losing one tube, that I didn’t even fully realise there was a pregnancy in the middle. My knowledge of being pregnant was too-short lived and overtaken by other kinds of fears and thoughts, that it hadn’t really sunk in. We felt disheartened, lost. Anxious that we were losing so much time to get those tests done and have it fixed. We started thinking of all the other times my period had taken longer than the post-birth average of 28 days, wondering whether some of those had been ectopic pregnancies that just died on their own. After all, if I had gone to see my gynae a few days later, we would have never known about the ectopic pregnancy. 

I had the tests done less than a week later. Another gynae. More shocked looks upon hearing the story of my post-birth complications. Another vaginal ultrasound prior to the tests, to make sure there was no pregnancy anywhere and to have an idea about the baseline. He said something to me that felt reassuring: I still had plenty of ovules left. At least that.. 

I had the hysteroscopy first, in the morning, on the last (6th) day of my period. I had taken some painkillers, as instructed, one hour or so before the intervention. The setup was very much like during a regular consultation, although it was in a special room. I was on my back, legs in the stirrups. Something was placed inside to keep the vagina open whilst the gynae worked his way up to the uterus with the hysteroscope (a tube with a telescope at its end), while watching everything on the screen. It wasn’t pleasant, but it did not hurt. I kept looking at the screen. All I could see was a pinkish tunnel. The gynae was having trouble advancing and said something about the cervix having an unexpected bend. Can’t remember much of the sensations really, apart from a general and gradually stronger discomfort with the tube moving inside me. Finding a way to make the tube advance took a while, maybe one or two minutes, maybe more. It felt very long to me, especially as I was feeling myself fainting. My blood pressure, quite low usually, got lower and both gynae and nurse started fretting a bit, the nurse rubbing my face and hands with something cold, holding my hands and talking soothingly, the gynae trying to speed up the procedure. I was almost out of it, when the doctor said he was wrapping up. He could not see much. Hopefully, the hysterosalpingography scheduled for a few hours later would feel better. In any case, he said, that would go much faster. He insisted not to forget to take my painkillers beforehand. I felt weak, but colour was coming back into my cheeks and a few minutes later I made my way back to the restroom to get dressed. Out of reflex, I locked the door after me, with both doctor and nurse instantly crying I should unlock it. What if I fainted in the bathroom and I needed help?! 

I went back home, weary about the second procedure. Bought the exact painkillers the doctor mentioned and went back in the afternoon. It was during the second COVID-19 lockdown, so patients could not be accompanied to hospital appointments. The hysterosalpingography was done in one of the X-ray rooms and I laid down on my back on one of those big tables, with my feet up. It was super quick, it was done in no time. The contrast substance did not have much space to spread. Same doctor as in the morning told me one tube was completely blocked; the other one was also partially blocked and the uterus was full of adhesions. He spoke in a way that let on that the most likely course of action for a second pregnancy would be a laparoscopy, possibly followed by IVF. But my regular gynae would get the images and his report and would talk me through the options. 

I left the hospital in tears. I felt anxious and hopeless, fearing the laparoscopy and losing my tubes. I could not make out what it all meant for the uterus. I called my gynae a few days later and he confirmed we needed to schedule a laparoscopy to see what could be done about the tubes and uterus. However, due to COVID constraints, he could not be definitive about the date. He was super prudent, not venturing into any speculations about the outcome. He’d only know once he got inside. It did not feel reassuring at all. We were in a state of constant anxiety about it. And impatience. It felt like it was dragging on and on..  

I started reading about IVF procedures, thinking it would help ease my weariness. In hindsight, it was premature and only added to my anxiety. It sounded intrusive (needles would be used), uncomfortable, if not outright painful, the result was by no means guaranteed. It did not sound like something I was prepared to do.  

The laparoscopy was scheduled for a few weeks later. A couple of days before it was moved back a week – the Friday before Christmas. I asked the gynae to give me a call and walk me through the intervention. I was very weary. I wanted to know more about what he expected to be able to do. One of the tubes was dilated a lot and full of fluid, a condition called hydrosalpinx. It was over 6.5 mm in diameter (compared to its original 1 mm) and the chances of saving it were aleatory, according to medical literature. The second tube was also in a bad state, a few mm dilated, but in a better shape than the other one. He would do his best to save them. The uterus was half closed, covered in adhesions. He would clear them and put on a coat of gel to protect it against further adhesions. 

I recounted my laparoscopy experience here. The outcome was probably the best one could reasonably expect. One tube was lost, the second one was saved. He had also managed to recondition the uterus. 

I went back to see my gynae a month later. He walked me through the procedure, showing me photos. I don’t recall much of what I saw, only the distinct sensation that it wasn’t pretty. The next thing he said startled me. He asked whether to send me already to start the IVF procedure. I was not ready to go down this road and my husband was fully supportive. I felt discouraged that conceiving naturally appeared less of a chance than IVF, or so I deduced from the doctor’s advice. I asked him whether it was really necessary at that stage. He said I was in a better condition to fall pregnant than back in August/September, before the ectopic pregnancy. Advised to give it a try for 3-4 menstrual cycles and prescribed pills to help with ovulation. He was also very clear that given my history, it was wise and important to detect the pregnancy early, to make sure it was fixed inside the uterus. 

At this point, I was really discouraged. I saw no reason to hope and thought it unlikely that we would be able to conceive naturally. We decided to try for a few months and then see again whether my feelings about IVF changed. We talked about IVF and decided we were both ok with not going down that road, if I still felt uneasy about it. 

It was end January. I had already had my period that month and lost the window for the pills this time. I tracked my ovulation, but none was detected. I took the pills in February and again in March. Afterwards I stopped. The pills coincided with the surge of painful pimples all around the vaginal area, vulva and area, which lasted quite a long time and were uncomfortable day to day and particularly dissuasive for any sexual activity. In my mind I established a quick causal link between the two – it was hormone-based and the only other time in my life when I had experienced something similar had been in the weeks immediately following the birth, when hormones are supposedly still running crazily wild. Ovulation happened those two months, but I suspect I had started tracking it too late, albeit following the tests’ instructions. 

After my April period, I started tracking my ovulation earlier. After two empty tests, the third one showed the start of the period with optimal chances to conceive (a few days in advance to the calendar). Three days of ovulation in which we applied ourselves to the job :). On the day that should have been the second one of my following period, I did a pregnancy test. It was positive. 

Both my husband and I were cautiously happy. We did not want to get our hopes up before confirming that it was a viable pregnancy. Our thinking was: first make sure it was fixed in the right place; then make it through the first trimester; then wait for the pre-natal genetic screening to come back ok. Only then would we take a breath and allow ourselves to truly enjoy it. 

What followed were two weeks of feeling pregnant in a completely different way than the first time. Small, but constant discomfort was the norm. Tiredness. Anxiety. Imagining all the different ways in which things could go wrong. Finally, a healthy baby girl is growing inside my tummy, with a family of three waiting to meet her when she is strong enough and ready to come out. 

The post My Unexpectedly Bumpy Road to a (Viable) Second Pregnancy appeared first on Mommy Goose Chronicles.

(Morning) Sickness: Not really! Around weeks 4-6 of pregnancy I used to have very light nausea around noontime, but it easily subsided with some sips of Schweppes Bitter Lemon (my mom always keeps a stash for her gin tonics). I vomited once in the first trimester, but I blame it more on the very boring breakfast I had just had that day (the same every morning for approx two months that we spent in the hotel upon arriving in a new country). 

Carpal tunnel syndrome: A tiny bit annoying!  Around weeks 9-13 or so, I used to feel mild pain and numbness in my right hand (thumb, index, little finger, wrist and palm) and for a while I wore an elastic band to control the discomfort. Doctor told me it was a possible manifestation during pregnancy, so I did not look into it any further. It went away as pregnancy progressed and all joints loosened. On that score, pregnancy was actually really great for a lower back/hip pain I had acquired before, that had incapacitated me to sleep on my back or on my belly or to spend more than ten minutes in any seated position that had my bum lower than my knees (i.e. car seat). 

Swollen feet: Yeees, they were so huge! I always battle with swollen feet in hot weather and considering it was summer during my entire pregnancy, not too surprising. It started to become visual after week 21, at which point I started wearing flip-flops everywhere and honestly, spent lots of time barefoot, even at work. It became worse the bigger I grew, but it never passed the threshold of worrisome for my healthcare providers. Swollen was the new normal and made putting my feet up, which I did on every occasion (at work, had put a box under the desk to keep them up) or lying down so much more sweeter. Actually, thinking better about it, during the last months, pretty much all of me was swollen most of the time, apart from a few minutes immediately after waking up.  

Weight gain: Not so bad, could have been much worse! For someone who has been on the chubby side, always concerned about her weight, and with a hypothyroid condition, I am quite satisfied with how I fared. Particularly considering I did not take particular care of what I ate or refrain from anything during pregnancy. The first 6-7 weeks, I actually lost 2 kilos. By the end of the second month, even though my tummy was not visible and I still fit in all my clothes, the shape around the tummy area had started to change. By week 25 or so, I had gained around 5-6 kilos (on top of regaining the two lost) and then I just exploded :))). By the time the baby was born, I added 10 kilos extra. All in all, I gained 16 kilos. I don’t remember feeling particularly heavy or restricted in my movements (using flip-flops definitely contributed positively to this), but visually I was biiiiig. I mean the tummy was biiiiig. Towards the end my face was so very puffy, it looked a bit grotesque :P. 

Nighttime wee: So annoying! Possibly one of the things I disliked the most. I love my sleep and never used to wake up during the night. I hated waking up, going to the bathroom and all as it took me forever to fall back asleep each time. Don’t remember when it started, but towards the end I was maybe waking up two-three times per night just to squeeze some drops, which made it all even more annoying.. 

Uncomfortable sleeping and occasional cramps: Uhuh! For a good part of the pregnancy, I slept only on one side. My husband hugging me from behind and holding a pillow between my thighs and knees helped, but keeping to the same position felt uncomfortable and favored cramps. Cramps woke me up occasionally during the night; sharp pain in the tibia area that brought tears to my eyes. It took willpower to relax and massage it away. 

Reflux and heartburn: Yes, during the last two – three months. Wasn’t serious, just unpleasant. I just chose to live with it, not mind about it. 

Piles/haemorrhoids and constipation: Oufff, yesss :(! They’ve become my intimate friends since week 28 or so. It started with a very itchy pile and it grew into a nice bouquet of at least 4, I would say, of various sizes and placing around the anus. They are the protruding kind that one can only get rid of with surgery. I did not know what it was in the beginning; I was travelling for work and did the whole picture taking with my phone and comparing with images on the internet. My gynae and my GP were not interested in taking a look, just took my word for it and prescribed stuff; told me it was normal, they would get worse until after childbirth, and advised to wait for any surgery I may want to consider until I was done having kids. My God it was itchy in the beginning. The itching was as annoying as they ever got and that was easily solved with an ointment. During the last months of pregnancy, despite my best efforts, I did not manage to avoid constipation, even though we had a healthy diet, ate lots of fibre and drank water. I used laxatives that my gynae prescribed. It was more difficult to accept mentally that there was something alive down there and growing and multiplying and I naively hoped they would still go away by themselves, soon…The idea of them bothered me immensely.  

Stretch marks: Not an issue. I only found out about the possibility they may appear in the last semester and used an oil (quite unfrequently; I still have more than half the bottle). 

Cravings: Not more than before pregnancy. My only two cravings were bretzels (easily satisfied at our supermarket) and the best chocolate covered peanuts I ever tasted (available at the same place, plus at a very convenient store close to work). I hardly ever refused them to myself. 

Pain: I remember when confirming my pregnancy, the doctor prescribed painkillers just in case, telling me not to be brave and take them, as it would be better for both me and the baby. I never needed to use them and until the end I asked myself what was it supposed to ache or hurt.

About childbirth related anxiety I already wrote a dedicated post. 

I did all I could to make my pregnancy as comfortable as possible for myself. I dressed as simply and comfortably I could. Possibly my favourite part of pregnancy is that I could experience it in leggings/short pants and flip-flops. I used to carry with me a pair of flat, loose red sandals (still my favourite ones), for official meetings, but that was the only compromise I made. And nobody minded. Around week 28 I cut my hair very short. I was so tired of taking care of it and keeping my hands in the air under the shower and drying it. It felt like such a nuisance… and it was so hot…

My extraordinary husband helped a lot. It must have been around week 32 when I went home from work and told him that I’d rather not eat than have to cook dinner again. Without a word he took up cooking and he is the main cook in the house now. Not to mention that he drove me to and from work every day for 34 weeks. I was afraid to drive on the right side of the road, particularly a rented car and with manual transmission the first three months; then, I was too big and he offered to continue.

The post My Pregnancy: Nuisances and the Better Highlights appeared first on Mommy Goose Chronicles.

I spent virtually all of my pregnancy in a new country (South Africa), very far away from everyone I knew, adjusting to my new life and trying to make friends. Throughout pregnancy and after birth what I missed most was a present, loving and trusted support network that I could share all with. I had friends who had been pregnant before me, but conversations never really went into much detail. And no one ever mentioned fear of giving birth. I didn’t know to ask any specifics and they were never shared. Feeling fear about giving birth was not really the most appropriate conversation opener with people I had barely known and as for my friends back home, I didn’t really know how to reach out. Towards the end of my pregnancy, I did poke for some birth stories of women I knew, but they were general, for the most part. My husband and I found other ways to cope with it. And this is me sharing – starting to, anyway. 

By the time we had found a doctor and had gotten an appointment (around 12 weeks of pregnancy), I was nervously reading about childbirth. And nothing that I read made me feel comfortable. I remember asking the doctor at the end of the consultation when we would discuss childbirth. She just said it was too early for that, we’d have time later on. 

I have a deeply entrenched fear of needles, injections and the sort ever since I can remember. I need to prepare mentally days in advance for any blood tests or vaccines, otherwise there is a good chance I will have a meltdown. Neither me nor my close family had ever been seriously ill or spent any time in hospital. Soo, an elective C-section, which is extremely popular both in my home country and in South Africa was completely out of question. Natural birth was for me, but reading about it, vaginal tears and episiotomy appeared as almost inevitable.. Brrrr…And the thought of the epidural needle in my spine and staying connected to machines just did not resonate. I felt scared and stuck… I felt there was no “better” option. The thought of giving birth brought tears to my eyes every time, and made me anxious. I wished I could just spit the baby out.. Not possible, I was told… 

Sometime after week 28, I found ways to feel more relaxed and confident about giving birth: hypnobirthing, puzzle-making and finding a care provider that I trusted would do its best to make childbirth the experience that I wanted to have. 

Hypnobirthing

At that point, I had only heard about hypnobirthing from one source, but it was one I was attached to and trusted: a health coach I had seen some years before. I dug out the information about her hypnobirthing experience and felt immediately it was something that could work for me. It was around the same time that the doctor recommended we should visit the maternity ward and sign up for pre-natal courses. I quickly found the only hypnobirthing coach in Pretoria (at least, the only one that showed up in my internet searches) and we signed up for a pre-natal course starting immediately. We never did the hospital pre-natal course. I found in hypnobirthing everything I needed and my husband was incredibly supportive.

The different relaxation techniques, including breathing, affirmations, massage and visualisation, worked for me. From the first class onwards I listened religiously to the two tracks (one with affirmations about childbirth, the other a colour visualisation) we could download (maybe. 40 min in total) every night before going to sleep. I found them soothing and relaxing, so much so that I never managed to get to the end of it awake before labour started. I fell asleep every time.  I felt more relaxed, more accepting of the process, childbirth seemed less frightening. 

It gave me an understanding of the workings of my body during childbirth, of how I could help my body along and of how me being relaxed would benefit the entire process. It made me focus on how to make childbirth the experience I wanted to have, on the positives, rather than on the things that scared me. I felt empowered and eager to make my own choices. 

I liked that approach. I knew that childbirth was unpredictable and it could go in many different ways; but it was clear to me that in the event of a complication, it would matter little what I knew, that I would stop having any say, that medical staff would do what they had to do. Therefore I decided there was no point in thinking about that or going through all the possible scenarios of what if I am in that X percentage of women that get a complicated birth and instead, concentrated on my ideal childbirth. 

Puzzles

I started on my first puzzle (a 500 piece image of a German castle) around the 25th week of pregnancy, as a way to relax and develop patience, not one of my strong points. I had never done puzzles before (if one doesn’t count the baby puzzles 30 something years before) and it only took me a couple of days to finish it. I was doing a bit every evening, after dinner, when we sat down and listened to music and whilst squatting on my otherwise very little used Pilates ball. 

I enjoyed it immensely; it absorbed me as much as a good book would, found it so relaxing, that I got two more puzzles. A 1000 piece of a mostly black and white image of Amsterdam and a 1500 piece image of an Italian village street. I finished the second one in five days, only two days before giving birth. I have built up quite a stock of bigger puzzles since, just in case… 

Moved from a doctor-assisted hospital birth to a midwife-assisted birth

I liked and trusted my doctor, she was very professional, but I missed a personal connection. She had been recommended to me by colleagues who had given birth with her and she was known as pro-natural birth (quite a rarity in town, apparently). The trouble was that when we visited the maternity ward in the hospital where she worked, it just did not feel right for us. We just did not trust that they would give natural birth all the chances, especially with the doctor physically present only at the very end. Fair enough – if all went well, what was the point of a doctor being present, but it just felt uncomfortable. Later on, before we parted with her at 35 weeks, she told us she would be on holiday around my due date and that a colleague would take good care of us…

Around the same time, we heard from multiple happy sources about the possibility of giving birth with the midwives as primary care providers. We decided to visit them, understand how they worked and compare. We did that around the 28 weeks mark and a wonderfully calm and warm young midwife met us. My husband interrogated her about her qualifications and experience, just like a proper job interview. 

What she described sounded like a more flexible approach (in case all went smoothly), a more personalised care plan, the possibility to be in touch via wapp anytime, a commitment to do things as I wanted them, insofar as that did not affect health of mom or baby. They were paired with a doctor that we met weeks before birth, that was to step in if needed. We saw her at 36 weeks and she cheerfully wished us not to meet again. They had a dedicated ward in a good hospital, just around the corner from the maternity ward, free of all the cables and medical equipment we had seen in the hospital, of any paperwork, and with inviting and homey labour rooms, a pool and a huge king size bed, perfect for the three of us to cuddle up when together. 

We came out of that meeting excited. We had found the right match. I had found the guarantee I was looking for that an intervention (needles or cuts) would be the last resort and I found a warm, personal connection with the health professional. So, we parted with our doctor. Our ideal scenario would have been having the doctor paired with the midwives, as back-up. But it was not something that she did. And I got to think about and design my own birth preferences, which kept me busy and positively focused about childbirth. 

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