Fear

Fear is obviously playing a big part in this pregnancy, and if I'm being totally honest, it is the one emotion that dictates most of my day. It is totally and utterly terrifying to be pregnant again. I feel like I'm holding my heart in my hands, waiting for the great unknown.

However, I would be lying if I said I existed through my entire 40 plus weeks with Hope, without any fear.

It was just a very different kind of fear. And looking back, I'm annoyed I wasted so much energy on this.

I certainly never feared my baby dying, as given I'd past 12 weeks, 20 weeks and my due date, I was pretty sure, as an educated woman, and a healthy woman, that didn't happen.

I was however, afraid of the birth. Because you know, we're all told just how much it hurts. From when we are kids, we have a fair idea childbirth is going to hurt. Everyone jokes about it, and you see it poorly portrayed on TV. Once you become pregnant, people start saying things to you like "good luck!" and "just take the drugs!" It all started to get me worried. You mean something that big had to come out of something that small. There was no going back though, it was going to happen eventually. Birth is the inevitable end to a pregnancy.

But all along, I knew I wanted to have a drug free birth, if possible. Deep down, I also knew when push came to shove, quite literally, I would do whatever it took to get my baby out happy and healthy, but there was a certain way I had in mind of how I wanted it all to pan out. And it did not involve drugs or surgeons. My motto, for the outside world, even though I didn't always believe it on the inside was, "the body is built to do it, women have been doing it all over the world for thousands of thousands of years - and most of them go back for more. It can't be that bad".

Most of my feelings towards the birth came from hearing the stories of other women, and about how they'd been able to be the "warrior" and birth totally naturally. I'm a robust, strong and healthy girl, so I never assumed it would be any different for me. Mum had done it three times, Simon's mum had done it three times. They had both done it with minimal help. Damn it, I was going to as well.

Then you hear the "horror stories" from women. And let me be clear, those horror stories never involved a dead baby, they normally just revolved around women needing epidurals, forceps, episiotomies or emergency c-sections and so on. So that all added to my fear. I really, really, really didn't want things to go that way for me. I just wanted to be able to grunt and moan and push and scream and say no to all interventions and birth like a real woman, without wimping out and asking for help. I didn't want to feel like a failure. I didn't want to be judged. I wanted to know that yes I did have a high pain threshold. I wanted to be a warrior.

Of course my nurse husband thought I was nuts. He kept telling me that if it got too hard and if I needed help, there was no shame in asking for it. He would always say "now you wouldn't have your appendix out without pain relief, why would you want to have a baby without pain relief?"

He had a point and I knew it, but I didn't always see it.

Roll on birth classes. The were lead by a midwife who had obviously previously been, said "birth warrior". After 10 hours of classes spread over a couple of weekends, I didn't come away from those classes feeling any fear about the pain or the birth itself, but rather inductions and the interventions. I watched several videos of babies being born and didn't flinch an inch, but when they showed the videos of "when things don't go to plan" I winced. I couldn't look through my squinty eyes to watch the epidural go in, I couldn't bear to see them give that poor woman an episiotomy. I walked out of those classes and said to Simon "please don't let them give me an epidural". And Simon is an anaesthetic nurse, he sees people get epidurals all day every day. He didn't see what the big deal was, but he also wanted me to be happy and comfortable with things, god love him.

We never actually did write a birth plan, at least nothing concrete anyway. But I did have a very good idea in my head of how I wanted things to go. Now I know enough girls who have had babies, and I know it doesn't always go to plan, but I just thought it would for me. At least I very much hoped it would. I mean after all, the pregnancy had all gone to plan. I couldn't have scripted it better. It was a dream. Perfect. Now I just had to achieve the perfect birth. I so wanted to believe that was possible.

Roll on labour beginning. Then going to hospital. Then being sent home from hospital as my cervix wasn't playing nice. Then labour slowing. Then us becoming totally bewildered and confused in the entire process and what on earth was going on and why the hell it was taking so long. We of course wanted to go back to hospital, but we were terrified. Not to mention, the hospital kept telling us to stay home, because you know, going off the sound of my voice, everything sounded "normal". Given my labour had been so long and slow, my main concern was if I went back, they'd induce me and induction would lead to interventions and often interventions failed and a failure to progress meant a c-section. And I didn't want any of it. I was terrified.

I was just so determined to get my baby out the way nature intended, that I had totally lost sight of what was really important: getting the baby out alive.

But of course I had no idea that my baby was in any danger. I had no idea she could or would in fact die. I had no idea getting her out alive was possibly not going to happen. And I had no idea, because no one tells you that's possible. Midwives don't tell you, obstetricians don't tell you, birth classes don't tell you, the media doesn't tell you. It is one big, fat, dirty secret. And this is something I desperately want to change.

We women are a funny bunch. We seem to do a good job of making other women afraid of things they don't need to be afraid of. Most of my fear came from things other women said to me. Friends, people on the street, the midwife in birth class. It comes from expectations placed upon us and a deep fear of failure. And it is all so ridiculous. Some of us let our egos run wild in pregnancy - and I will admit at times I did. It is not just all about us here people - there is another little person to consider. You know, the child we're carrying. I'm sure if I'd had a window in to my womb to ask Hope how she wanted to be born, she wouldn't have cared, just so long as she was safe. I'm sure over that weekend, she was trying to send me a message she was in danger and that I needed to get her out fast. But I could not hear her. Or was it that I wasn't listening? Those thoughts make me crazy, but they are hard to silence.

Eventually with Hope, after her tragic passing in utero, I was induced. And yes, it did bring labour on hard and fast. Would I do it again? You bet I would. Yes, the pain (physical and emotional) became unbearable and the initial painkillers they were giving me were not enough, so I asked for the dreaded epidural. Would I do it again? You bet I would.

You see this time, I have no fear of the process (or the procedures). I have no fear of how it happens. I just care about the end result. And the end result being my pink, squirming, healthy, screaming, live child. Nothing else even factors in to the equation. My health and well-being runs a very distant second to the health and well-being of my child.

I feel liberated, to be free of this fear. The fear of the pain, the fear of the interventions, the fear of not getting "the experience". It feels good. Honestly, they could cut me open with a chainsaw from head to toe without a single drug to get this baby out, and I would not care. Just make sure he's alive, and well.

Most of this has spilled out of me today because I am obviously, albeit slowly, approaching the end of this pregnancy. And naturally, as we get closer to the end, people are starting to ask what we're going to do this time. You know, to make sure IT doesn't happen again. Many are just coming straight out to ask if we're choosing a c-section this time. And we're not. But of course if it turns out we need one, we'll take one - thank you very much, no question. Others also assume that we will induce early and yes, those people would probably be spot on. I feel this is one choice I have had stolen from me. I just know mentally, I can't go to 40 weeks again, and certainly not beyond. So if my cervix is playing nice around 38 to 39 weeks, we will be opting to get this child out early. In a way though, there almost is no plan. My obstetrician and I are on the same page - we both want to do whatever it takes whenever it is needed, erring on the side of caution at all times. We both know the only thing in my birth plan this time is "live child". We are going to take each day as it comes towards the end of the pregnancy and just see how it works out. I see no point in making a concrete plan this time, when if I learnt nothing else last time, it is that things don't always go to plan. And I feel totally comfortable with all of this. All of it.

So the fear in this pregnancy is of course still there. But it is a different fear, and that is the fear that it will all happen again. That we will lose another child. Not necessarily exactly the same fate as Hope, but another random, tragic event. Cord accident. Placental abruption. Do I need to go on - they can die so many ways. But I have to trust and believe the extra care I am receiving this time around will help prevent that. If I can't let those thoughts soothe me, then I don't know what I can do. I just have to trust things will be different this time. I have to believe he's going to be ok.

I just know the fear I have is different this time, and I'm not afraid of things that are not worth being afraid of. I wish more people could see things like this. If they did, I'm pretty sure not as many babies would die.