I had a textbook pregnancy, it was simple and easy. The last 10 weeks were quite strange, as the pandemic hit, but I wasn’t too concerned. At my 40 week check-up, doctors said my daughter was high up, slightly on the side, but head down. It wasn’t the best position, they said. But we’d make do.

I went one week and four days over my due date. I was due to be induced on the Thursday, but went into labour at 3am on the Tuesday morning. I woke up in pain, but they tell you to sleep it off if you can, so I went back to bed. 10 minutes later, my contractions were coming every one to three minutes – strong and fast. I called the hospital who told me to go in to get checked over.

In triage, they examined me – that was the worst bit, because it was boiling hot! My husband couldn’t be with me, either, so I stayed on my own in that small room for three hours, yet ended up only at 1cm dilated. I decided to go back home to spend longer with my husband. 

My contractions were getting stronger and stronger at home, I couldn’t do anything. I wanted my husband and mum (who was also at our house) to eat. I remember saying to them: you guys have lunch, and after that, we’ll go back to the hospital. But things were getting worse – 10 minutes later, I was like, screw that, wrap your sandwiches in tin foil, we’re going.

I howled like an animal all the way back to hospital. 

My husband was able to stay this time, as I was 6cm dilated. I had gas and air – it was liquid gold. Just amazing. Things went well for a while. I was in my own big room with a birth pool, it was calm, and the midwife was lovely. But around four hours later, when gas and air was no longer working, I was checked again. I hadn’t increased from 6cm at all.

I had an epidural around 5pm. That afternoon, I was contracting hard, and got to 8cm. I was calm, though, now the pain had gone. But I didn’t get to 10cm until 2am the next morning. Exhausted is an understatement. 

They tried to turn the baby at this point, as she was in a slightly odd position, so they wanted to lower her. But it didn’t quite do the trick. At 4am, I started pushing. I was doing it for what felt like ages, but I remember no one saying: “You’re doing great, nearly there!”. It felt like it wasn’t working.

An hour later, a surgeon came in and uttered the word C-section. I was so surprised, after all that. She explained my baby was high up, stuck in my pelvis, and wasn’t getting anywhere. It’s exactly what I didn’t want, but the whole team was so calm and reassuring. I had an all-female team in theatre! 

They still tried forceps (my husband’s face was a picture), just in case they could get her head, but she wouldn’t budge. So they went in for the C-section and my daughter came out – she was humungous! My scan showed she’d be about 7-8 pounds, but she was 9 pounds 9 ounces! The doctors soon realised why she got stuck…

We had to stay in for five days, as she needed antibiotics. It was a bit of a whirlwind – we came home, but on the third day I got an infection in my womb lining and had to go back in. They treated the infection to prevent sepsis, but I had to stay in for two more nights.

When we finally got home for good, it was lovely. It was great to be in our little bubble, just three of us. It was hard work in the best sense, figuring it all out together and starting our new life. 

My birth advice?

Don’t become too fixated on other people’s birth stories – yours will be brilliant and unique. Be proud of yourself, whatever happens.