I’ve heard of failed epidurals alright but not five. Kate Gunn of Kate Takes 5 is one of my all-time favourite Irish bloggers, tonight she shares her short but sweet birth story in this week’s addition of the birth story series.
A Dads Eye View
If there’s one thing my ex-husband is good at its directions. Seemingly he only has to lift his head and sniff the air and he can find the little grey building at the end of four pages of crisscrossed lines on a torn and tea stained map.
Which is a very good thing when it’s dark, you live over an hour and a half’s drive away from the hospital, and your heavily pregnant wife shouts at you that ‘It’s time to go – NOW!’
The journey was long and extremely bumpy. Bob Marley beat from the speakers and the breath came shorter and harder with every mile travelled.
There was no talking. Eyes on the road, both of us dealing with our own demons.
Once there I hobbled along on his arm and in a blur was prodded and poked until I heard someone whisper urgently ‘there’s no room available’ and I found myself behind a curtain with another woman in the other side who sounded like she was lifting weights.
The labour was not a good one. The epidural was called for. The epidural did not work.
Another was administered. Another did not work.
Six epidurals and countless hours later I was totally spent. Delirious I lay on the bed like a fatally injured soldier, war weary and ready to let go.
‘Do you think I’d have time to pop out to the car?’ I heard a voice that I recognised ask.
‘Just to grab a sandwich and have a quick nap…’
I had no energy to comment and until that moment had actually forgotten that he was there, but of course the words were filed away to be used at a more opportune moment.
Such as this one maybe.
Anyway, he returned after his cheese roll and his 40 winks. The midwife’s shift ended. Another was called in to take over and finish the job and somehow, somehow, our beautiful daughter was born.
Her Dad cut the cord and his eyes filled with wonder and tears.
Shell-shocked it took me a little longer to adjust, but as the tiny bundle was handed to me, cleaned off and wrapped in a warm blanket, I knew life would never be the same again.
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There are a whole collection of birth stories on the blog if you would like to read more. Birth stories go live every Sunday at 9pm. If you would like to feature your birth story as I’m running low drop me an email at firstname.lastname@example.org.