Hope's story - labour finally begins

The Olympics began on 08/08/2008 and I had earlier exclaimed this was the date I wanted to give birth on. I knew that was highly unlikely though as first babies tend to be late, but I did think it would be cool. As expected though, that day came and went without so much as a flutter.

The day before the due date, August 13, the phone rang a lot. And whenever I rang mum, she’d jump out of her skin, thinking it was that call. She was so excited to become a grandmother.

I had friend due on August 14 as well and as I was half way through sending a text to her on our due date, I got a call saying she was in to labour. Unlike me, she’d had the pregnancy from hell. While I was jealous, I was relieved things were finally underway for her and I knew I wouldn’t be far behind. She’d had a rough pregnancy with pre-e, constant nausea and lots of bed rest, but early the next morning she delivered a healthy, 10 pound baby girl.

At 1am on Friday 15 August, I finally felt what I thought were the early twinges of labour. I thought I’d end up having my baby the same day as my friend after all. Everyone said “you’ll know” when you’re in labour, and I thought I knew. I’d been having Braxton Hicks contractions for months, but these were different. They woke me from my sleep and they were coming frequently. Mostly, they bloody hurt.

I put up with them for two hours and didn’t wake Simon, as I knew he’d need to sleep this early on. But by 3am, I’d had enough and I woke him. He helped me through the next couple of hours, rubbing my back and stroking my hair as I breathed my way through. Finally, I was able to put everything I’d learnt in yoga in to place.

I got up and had a shower, and lost my mucous plug. At 6am I rang the hospital, knowing they’d probably tell me to stay home. I felt OK about this knowing it was still early days.

This is when I broke my own rules and rang Mum. I said I’d only ring once I was in hospital, but I was excited. Mum called my siblings and soon the phone was running hot. I was now on the clock and under pressure to perform, to finally have the baby. Through their impatience, I could feel their excitement. At times though, it was suffocating.

We stopped answering the phone and left the blinds closed. We wanted to hide from everyone to give my body a chance to get in to labour with few interruptions. We sat in our dark house, watched the Olympics and just waited patiently for our baby to arrive.

I spoke to my best friend though and I let slip I was in labour. She’d guessed and was so excited. She texted soon after to say: “every contraction brings you closer to your baby”.

At 5pm we decided to head to hospital. Life was never going to be the same and I sobbed as we left. It was just a build up of the past nine months and the great anticipation of what lay ahead.

We arrived and were taken to the birthing suite. We put our bags down and got familiar with the room. I was internally examined, but had not started to dilate. The midwife assured me things were progressing, but just slowly. She told us we’d have to go home.

But before we left my bulging belly was strapped to the fetal heart monitor and for half an hour, Simon and I watched our baby’s beautifully strong heart beat. The midwife came in to check and everything was perfect. “Happy baby”, she said. “Happy baby”.

We called our families again to tell them we’d been to hospital but sent home. They didn’t understand, but we explained it was probably for the best. We trusted the hospital, as the experts, and felt they had our best interests at heart. We assumed they knew best.

But over the weekend things slowed down. Contractions were frequent and intense at night and I was getting no sleep. Sometimes they were five minutes apart, sometimes an hour. They were 30 seconds, then a minute. But the hospital kept telling us it was "normal" and to stay home.

My body had done such a good job I was determined it could figure out how to go in to labour by itself and I was adamant I did not want to be induced. I thought I couldn't be far away.

So we waited. I would yell out “another one” and Simon would rub my back. He checked his watch. “Forty-five seconds that one, eight minutes since the last one.” While the infrequency and unpredictability was frustrating, I assumed my body was getting ready for the real deal.

The phone kept ringing and we still had the same news – “no change. We’ll let you know when there is”. It was frustrating and confusing, but we were just waiting patiently.

These days were also spent gazing at my big belly. At 40+ weeks, our baby was so active and wriggly. She also kept me entertained with her regular hiccups, something that brought a smile to my face often and was something I often shared with others.

On the Sunday, desperate to get things moving, I did a few of the things the midwives were suggesting. I had a few long showers and because I was pretty sure my waters hadn’t broken, I took a long, warm bath. We also went for a walk. We aimed to go to the shops just 600m up the road but we only got half way. I couldn’t waddle that far.

Morning of Monday 18 August, I was exhausted. Another night of contractions and with little sleep. I was running out of puff. I rang the hospital, this time a little more desperate.

Our routine weekly check up was scheduled for 11.40am and I asked if I could come in early and go straight to the birthing suite - I wanted this baby out now. I was told to go to my appointment, but to let them know I was in early labour so they could rush me through. They asked is the baby moving. “Yes”, I said, “it’s just had the hiccups”.

But before we left, I said to Simon I hadn’t felt the baby move for about half an hour. Initially we didn’t think much of it, as we thought she’d be exhausted from all of the stop start labour.

We’d been using a stethoscope Simon “borrowed” from work. The midwives warned us it took a trained hear to hear a baby’s heartbeat with a stethoscope, but we had trained our ears and it provided so many reassuring moments.

I put the stethoscope to my belly. I prodded around for a while. The baby prodded back. I now know with hindsight, these were Hope’s last movements.

No heartbeat. I thought well she’s dropped down so it must be harder to hear. I jiggled my belly around a bit, as this normally woke her up. She wasn’t responding. And she felt low and heavy.

Simon remained positive. We got in the car and headed in for the hospital. I had an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach that something was horribly wrong.