This week I am continuing my birth story and this is the very last part.
Finally, the midwives had told me I was ready! They hadn’t topped up my epidural recently so I would be able to feel my contractions and know when to push. It also helped me move my legs so they didn’t feel like a dead weight. My contractions had thankfully started to even out and were coming fairly regularly and I was starting to feel them creeping back. It was very surreal when I started to push as I felt like I had been doing it for no time at all but it had been nearly an hour. One of my midwives told me I might need a bit of extra help, this was because he was back to back I wasn’t making as much progress as they would like. She nipped out the room to hunt down the doctor, warning me we may need forceps. After waiting all that time the last thing I wanted was further intervention and I was terrified of needing the forceps. That piece of information must have spurred me on because by the time the midwife came back I had put all my effort into pushing and my little boy was close to being delivered. She came back in the room, took one look at what was going on, said ‘Oh doesn’t look like we will need that doctor’ and ran back out. I was so pleased; this was it, I was going to meet my son soon and the labour was nearly over. I put all my remaining energy into pushing; I had blanked everything in the room out and focused entirely on my contractions. I don’t remember looking at anyone, I had my eyes screwed tight but all the way through I could hear my husbands encouragement; breathing along with me and holding my hand.
I don’t remember feeling a great sensation but before I knew it the midwife was congratulating me, I heard a little mewing cry and a tiny bundle was lifted up onto me. I fell in love but felt like that love had been there all along just waiting; this little boy was all mine. I had preciously carried him in my tummy for nine months and I had put everything I had into his birth so he could breathe his first breath in this world and make us a family of three. He seemed to be all arms and legs when he first was lifted up, like a star fish, and then he curled up on me, opened his eyes and looked into my face. I blubbered out to my husband, “He’s looking at me” and realised everything had changed, everything was now for him and looking at the tiny face made me happier then I ever had been before. We cuddled up as a family and the midwife asked us if we had a name. I looked to the husband and asked him to choose one of the three we had ready. “Lucas,” was his reply; it had been my favourite right from the start and it was perfect. A perfect end to a very long labour; a perfect boy to come along and make two besotted, first time parents.