/ˈleιbə/ n. 1 physical work done usually for money. 2 those employed in such work considered as a class, especially as organised in trade unions and political parties. 3 work, especially of a hard or tiring kind. 4 a work or job to be done: the twelve labours of Hercules. 5 the pains and efforts of childbirth.
Rachel went into labour on Friday. I’d gone to work in the morning, as I’d planned, but it was scheduled to be my last day before I started my leave. She’d had some intermittent cramping through the morning, but that wasn’t anything unusual; she’d had cramping on-and-off for weeks. But, during the day, I’d get sporadic e-mails or text messages: “Getting closer together” … “Coming stronger now”. Then, as I was finishing off my last couple of files for the day, she sent me a message, “I think I’m going to need you at home pretty soon.” So I had just enough time to finish up, turn on my “out-of-office” automatic e-mails, and then headed back to the house.
When I got home, Rachel had been keeping track of the contractions on a little piece of note paper. They’d been coming more and more regularly, and getting stronger and stronger. Starting at about 11.30am, they’d been about fifteen minutes apart, but by the time I arrived were only about six minutes apart. We stayed at home for a while. I tried to organise everything, ready for the trip to the hospital if we needed to make it. Over the past months, Rachel had been jotting down various ideas she thought might help her cope with the pain of the contractions, but in the end found it most helpful to simply kneel or crouch down on the floor, with me rubbing her lower back. By the time 7.30pm came around, they were only four minutes apart, and Rachel was having more and more trouble speaking to me during the contractions. There’d been a whole range of various activities suggested for her to try in between contractions, but they were coming so frequently that there wasn’t really any time to start something before the next one hit. So, we called the maternity unit at the hospital, described what was happening, and they told us to come in so Rachel could be “checked out”.
We got to the hospital at about 8.00pm, and they took us into one of the birthing rooms. After the midwife checked Rachel initially, she said that (while something was obviously happening at the time) Rachel wasn’t in “established labour”. She suggested we could go home and wait to see what happened, or stick around at the hospital and try and relax a little bit to see how things progressed. Rachel didn’t really want to go back home, so took up the offer of a warm bath and some paracetamol. After a twenty-minute soak, she decided she wanted to get out and back onto the bed. Another examination showed things had progressed further, and she was definitely staying for the night.
All along, Rachel had said she wanted an epidural anaesthetic, so the anaesthetist was called, but the midwives said it’d be a while before somebody arrived. We kept doing what we were doing: back rubs, trying to keep energy up by eating (although Rachel only wanted water to drink and the occasional grape), reading some books and magazines we’d packed. The midwife offered Rachel some nitrous oxide while she was waiting, and this really did seem to help her cope with the pain a little bit better. The anaesthetist arrived at about midnight, and soon after the epidural was set up, Rachel was feeling much more comfortable. The nurses continued to monitor the contractions through the night, and told us to try and get some rest. I managed to get an hour or two of sleep in a reclining chair they supplied, but because Rachel was all hooked up to monitors, drips, the epidural and the like, she could really only doze.
The obstetrician arrived at around about 7.30 or 8.00am, we reckon. By that time, the baby was ready to be delivered, so the doctor set everything up, and the nurse told us to get ready for the “pushing” phase. That lasted about 45 minutes (I think), but Rachel was so tired that when the obstetrician asked, “Do you want some help?” she gratefully accepted his use of forceps. Another two or three pushes later, and Rose Charlotte was born at 9.03am on 3rd March 2012. She was a beautiful little thing (even with a fair bit of blood and gunk in her hair!) and soon started crying. Once we sang her the lullaby we’d been using during the pregnancy, she calmed right down, which was truly amazing!
Rachel and I both cried our eyes out. They let us stay in the birthing unit for a few hours. Rachel had a shower, while I sat with Rose. Then we packed up our bags, they put Rachel in a wheelchair (her legs were still pretty numb from the anaesthetic) and made everything ready for us to be transferred to the maternity ward.
Rachel went into labour on Friday. I’d gone to work in the morning, as I’d planned, but it was scheduled to be my last day before I started my leave. She’d had some intermittent cramping through the morning, but that wasn’t anything unusual; she’d had cramping on-and-off for weeks. But, during the day, I’d get sporadic e-mails or text messages: “Getting closer together” … “Coming stronger now”. Then, as I was finishing off my last couple of files for the day, she sent me a message, “I think I’m going to need you at home pretty soon.” So I had just enough time to finish up, turn on my “out-of-office” automatic e-mails, and then headed back to the house.
When I got home, Rachel had been keeping track of the contractions on a little piece of note paper. They’d been coming more and more regularly, and getting stronger and stronger. Starting at about 11.30am, they’d been about fifteen minutes apart, but by the time I arrived were only about six minutes apart. We stayed at home for a while. I tried to organise everything, ready for the trip to the hospital if we needed to make it. Over the past months, Rachel had been jotting down various ideas she thought might help her cope with the pain of the contractions, but in the end found it most helpful to simply kneel or crouch down on the floor, with me rubbing her lower back. By the time 7.30pm came around, they were only four minutes apart, and Rachel was having more and more trouble speaking to me during the contractions. There’d been a whole range of various activities suggested for her to try in between contractions, but they were coming so frequently that there wasn’t really any time to start something before the next one hit. So, we called the maternity unit at the hospital, described what was happening, and they told us to come in so Rachel could be “checked out”.
We got to the hospital at about 8.00pm, and they took us into one of the birthing rooms. After the midwife checked Rachel initially, she said that (while something was obviously happening at the time) Rachel wasn’t in “established labour”. She suggested we could go home and wait to see what happened, or stick around at the hospital and try and relax a little bit to see how things progressed. Rachel didn’t really want to go back home, so took up the offer of a warm bath and some paracetamol. After a twenty-minute soak, she decided she wanted to get out and back onto the bed. Another examination showed things had progressed further, and she was definitely staying for the night.
All along, Rachel had said she wanted an epidural anaesthetic, so the anaesthetist was called, but the midwives said it’d be a while before somebody arrived. We kept doing what we were doing: back rubs, trying to keep energy up by eating (although Rachel only wanted water to drink and the occasional grape), reading some books and magazines we’d packed. The midwife offered Rachel some nitrous oxide while she was waiting, and this really did seem to help her cope with the pain a little bit better. The anaesthetist arrived at about midnight, and soon after the epidural was set up, Rachel was feeling much more comfortable. The nurses continued to monitor the contractions through the night, and told us to try and get some rest. I managed to get an hour or two of sleep in a reclining chair they supplied, but because Rachel was all hooked up to monitors, drips, the epidural and the like, she could really only doze.
The obstetrician arrived at around about 7.30 or 8.00am, we reckon. By that time, the baby was ready to be delivered, so the doctor set everything up, and the nurse told us to get ready for the “pushing” phase. That lasted about 45 minutes (I think), but Rachel was so tired that when the obstetrician asked, “Do you want some help?” she gratefully accepted his use of forceps. Another two or three pushes later, and Rose Charlotte was born at 9.03am on 3rd March 2012. She was a beautiful little thing (even with a fair bit of blood and gunk in her hair!) and soon started crying. Once we sang her the lullaby we’d been using during the pregnancy, she calmed right down, which was truly amazing!
Rachel and I both cried our eyes out. They let us stay in the birthing unit for a few hours. Rachel had a shower, while I sat with Rose. Then we packed up our bags, they put Rachel in a wheelchair (her legs were still pretty numb from the anaesthetic) and made everything ready for us to be transferred to the maternity ward.
