Anna’s Birth Story

After going through IVF to get pregnant and having an anxiety fueled pregnancy filled with heavy bleeds and bouts of prescribed bed rest, it was safe to say Anna couldn’t wait to welcome her baby earth side. Here she tells her birth story.

My pregnancy with Isla was complicated – I had my first bleed at 8 weeks and of course thought the worst. My whole world came crashing down when I went to the bathroom and saw so much blood. I drove home with blood leaking onto my seat and felt completely numb. I was living in a boarding house at the time (yep Hogwarts exists) so had to walk through the school entrance with 100’s of kids knocking past me as I tried to find my husband. Neither of us could believe it as we drove to our IVF doctor's office. Our doctor was so invested in us through our turbulent journey that even she had tears in her eyes. As the scan went over my stomach, I prayed and hoped everything I had dreamed of for the future in the 8 weeks I’d been pregnant, would be true. Thank God, there she was, she even did a little high kick. I was thankful beyond words, but from then on, I couldn’t relax throughout my pregnancy. This was one of many bleeds I had and since found out I had a Subchoronic Hematoma – a blood clot between the amniotic membrane and uterine wall which increases the risk of miscarriage and placental abruption, so I was signed off of exercise and prescribed on and off with bed rest – hugely challenging for someone who runs a fitness business.

I was told induction would be the safest route for me – something I since wish I’d looked into more but the risks of having an induction were never presented. Going through IVF suddenly puts you in a higher risk camp and In my opinion and our expert's opinion too, often unnecessarily so. However, with my placenta already in a less stable position, our doctor at the hospital we chose to give birth at, said this was the best thing to do. In hindsight I wish I had pushed to just have daily monitoring (which you can absolutely ask for FYI) but with everything that had happened I felt vulnerable and not in a place of empowerment after being met with so much conflicting advice (see why I wanted to create Bump Haus?!) So, on December 18th we checked ourselves into the not so glam spa and waited for the induction to start.

I packed for 5 nights – it's actually hilarious how much I packed and the size of the suitcase I bought with me to the hospital. Most women on the ward I was in had a little wheely case – I looked like I was going long haul for a month. However, I knew most inductions can take a while to kick in and even a few attempts with pessaries so I wanted all the entertainment, clothes and snacks I could get my hands on. However, all of the above was completely wasted on me though, my induction kicked in on pessary numero uno.

Covid was still rife at this point, so we were not allowed to walk around the hospital too much, just once or twice a day. We escaped the ward for outing one as I wanted gravity to do its thing and knew moving could speed things up a bit. It was absolutely freezing outside but I was determined not to be in hospital for days on end like some women I’d spoken to had been, waiting for the pessary to do its thing, so much to my husband's annoyance, I dragged him around the hospital carpark for a total of 5 times before he said he may be getting frost bite ( I replied I’m about to push a baby out my hu ha to which he shut up. Anna 1 – hubs 0) Once we got inside, I started to get back pain and pain all down my legs some of which was intense. As my husband went to the loo at the entrance of the hospital, I found myself unable to stand up and was folded over in pain on a pull-down seat outside the chapel, Jesus watching on. My husband grabbed me and I waddled back to the ward. Looking back this was me in early labor but with the idea that most inductions take a while to kick in, I just assumed this was the effects of the pessary. 

It was time to say goodbye. I felt so emotional seeing my husband leave the ward as he went to our cosy home, and I was left wondering what the night would entail. I wanted him by my side throughout the night but was told the likelihood of anything happening tonight would be slim so he should go and get some rest and I’d see him in the morning. I thought about smuggling him in my long-haul suitcase, but off he went as I sat there staring at the blue curtains that we’d been cocooned in so many times before, with all the bleeds that had come during my pregnancy. 

Eye mask on, I started to breathe, my meditations were playing, as were the sounds of some harpist and I was breathing in essential oils like it was the smell of coffee in the morning. I joke but all these things truly do get you in the right headspace and start to produce the right hormones, especially when you’re in a highly medicalised environment. I’m living proof. It’s a funny thing being in labor for the first time as you don’t really know what to expect but I was certain by this point I was having contractions. I peeled back my eye mask to walk to the wards’ desk and said politely to the midwife, “I think I’m having contractions”. I have this weird people-pleasing trait where I smile even through pain or discomfort or bad scenarios – maybe it's the inner performer still waiting in the wings ready with her jazz hands. But it was clear this polite smile made it near impossible to believe I could be having contractions. Back to my bed I got sent like a naughty child. 

My waters broke in true Hollywood style fashion (but it's unlikely yours will too) Most break a little more subtly but mine really did rush out in a huge gush. It felt like I'd wet myself, but the water kept coming... and coming …. and coming. I peeped out from behind my curtain as I heard the midwife walk by, drenched from my crotch to my ankles I whispered “I think my waters just broke” - she was excited for me and calmly ushered me to the bathroom where I sat, the water still coming out. I was quite shocked with how much water there was and also how quickly things had progressed – I thought I was in for 5 nights remember! Unfortunately, this caused a huge surge of adrenaline in me, and my legs began to shake uncontrollably.  The harpist was out the window for a moment. I called my husband – “my waters have broken”. OMFG. To my surprise he was told to stay at home, and I got told to go back to my bed and sleep as it was unlikely things would really get going until the morning.  However, sleep was the last thing on the agenda from then on. 

I pulled out my phone and started to time the contractions. Sat on the edge of my bed, heart pounding I tried to stay calm, 1 min, 2 min, there's one again, and again, and again. Nope this really is it. Jesus I swear the antenatal course told me they’d be 15 mins apart in early labour, but these where coming thick and fast. The people pleaser had left the building. This time I said to the woman on the desk I really do think I’m in full blown lab...... before I could even say labor another contraction came on very strongly and then another. Suddenly things changed, their faces in go time mode. This really was it. It was time to move to the delivery suite, so the lovely midwives began to gather around my bed on the ward to try and get my things back into my ‘long haul suitcase’. Through the contractions I started laughing. Picture this, I’d presumed I was going to be on the ward for at least 3 days so had unpacked my case into the little wardrobe provided and lined up my books and picture frames to really create that homely feel to get all the right hormones going. Well, that wasn’t too useful when they wanted to move me swiftly onto another ward, so they ended up getting a load of bin bags and shoving it all in there. Off we went like little Santas with their sacks.

I couldn’t make it down the corridor without a contraction coming every minute. There we were, my incredible midwifes and I trying to hoist a suitcase and 3 black sacks down a corridor at 2am with Christmas lights twinkling above us yet I genuinely couldn’t walk more than 4 steps without having a contraction. To put this into perspective this isn’t normal, so I don’t want to freak you out at all, and it wasn’t until afterwards I was told I had hyperstimulated to the induction drugs. A familiar party trick of mine as I overstimulated to the IVF drugs too causing OHSS. To this day however, I'm not surprised - I always joke I'm so pure - even though I have a potty mouth - but in all seriousness, I'm pretty sensitive to a lot of things. One swig of wine and I can feel the effects, a coffee and I'm ready to take over the world, so give me some drugs to bring on labor and you can bet your bottom dollar I'm reacting in a big way, and I was. My contractions were 1 min apart from then on.

I was finally going to get the water birth I wanted! As my waters had broken naturally It was no longer necessary for me to be Consutant led. I was finally in the normal camp, a place I had never been part of, from trying to conceive, to my pregnancy, we were never the ‘normal’ couple, so this felt unusual but bloomin lovely! My husband arrived pretty promptly at around 2.30am. He tried to talk to me, slightly panicked. I replied sternly, “wet flannel, neck, now, don’t talk to me” (lol) and he watched as I had another intense contraction. For 30 mins, from when we entered the delivery suite to me needing a wee, although full on, I was deep down thrilled that I was going to be having the birth I had planned. However, the minute after I wee'd, I got escorted back to the consultant led ward. F**k, Meconium. The baby had Poo'd - back out of the ‘normal’ club we go. Maybe normal just isn't my colour.

I was 9cm dilated by the time a midwife could look at me. They had tried so many times beforehand to see how dilated I was, but I just couldn’t let them look. Not because I didn’t want them to but every time they got close, I’d have a contraction and I only wanted to be on all fours. My adrenaline was so full on that I couldn’t breathe through the gas and air. I tried so hard to clutch at my breathing technique I had nailed, but my reaction to the drugs was too strong and at this point I was too scared of having an epidural, so I kept going until I literally flipped myself on my back the second a contraction stopped. Go......“You’re 9cm”, really? I wasn’t expecting that. It had been intense, but I had thought first time labours were long. Things had happened so quickly. Did I mention I’m meant to be here for 5 days first!

It’s time to push.... or was it. By this time, it was daylight. The time just disappears when you’re in labor, you’re in a different zone than normal life. “Do you feel like you could push out a huge poo" said my midwife, Sarah. Mmmmm I think so, so off I went. Pushing so hard. I couldn’t believe I was about to meet my baby....my husband was so excited. Pushhhhhhhhhh, eughhhhhhh graaaaeeeeeee. You can do it Anna.......”Oh poo”. Oh actual poo. “Let's sweep that one away shall we”. False alarm. Maybe I wasn’t ready to push. N.B Trust me when I say you will not care if you poo in labor and also it is so common. But I think maybe when Sarah asked if I could push, I did just need an actual poo. Whoops.

This woman needs drugs I remember hearing our consultant say. And by this point I really did. As I’ve said so many times, what I was experiencing was not a normal reaction to the drugs. An induction is notably more intense than going into labour naturally, but overstimulating is a whole different ball game. So, after 12 hours of saying no to an epidural, it was time to lean in and surrender to my new birth story that was unfolding. I sat on the edge of the bed, terrified I was going to be the statistic that was going to be paralised from an epidural and waited for the needle to be inserted into my spine. I was also given a spinal block, perhaps they thought I may need a c-section if things didn’t progress, but at this point, I was just too tired to ask any questions. After it was administered, I lay back with my egg and cress sarnie and the sensations I had been feeling for 12 hours simply vanished. Bliss. I then slept for 2 hours. Double bliss.

It was time to amp things up again. After my joyous nap it was time to get back to the task in hand. Oh yes, where were we? My midwife Sarah who had been by my side throughout was handing over to (very handily) another Sarah who was equally as lovely. They administered another thing on the list I really hadn’t wanted, ‘The Oxytocin Drip’ but again I was in full on surrender mode at this point and tried to clutch onto everything I had to keep this as holistic as possible. I had a banging birth playlist apparently according to all the midwives, so much so they wanted me to share it (I’ll share below for you), so I think this helped keep the mood up. As I couldn’t feel anything they kept an eye on my baby’s heart rate and mine to judge when the surges were coming and then cued me to push. It was really not a great position to be in. I was on my back, legs in stirrups and a bar across my head to pull on so I could push harder. It felt very old school.

You’ve got 30 mins left. ‘What?’ After pushing for 2 hours, I was told I had 30 mins to get the baby out. Who was keeping tabs on this I thought? Luckily, I had read that some maternity units have time restraints. No way I thought, I’m not being taken to theatre just because it doesn't fit with your lunch break, so I put my foot down. Suddenly the people pleaser was on that long haul flight with my suitcase. They listened and I pushed for another hour. They could see Islas head. She has so much hair. But every time it even seemed close, she just moved back in. I was tired.

We need to move to forceps. By this point I had 4 people in the room and a resuscitation team outside just in case. Sounds pretty scary typing that back, but in the moment, I was done. I couldn’t care how this baby was coming out anymore, I just wanted it to be over. A contraction every minute for over 13 hours is no joke. “OK” I said, holding my husband's hand. The forceps went in and within three pushes, my gorgeous baby was put on my chest. Oh lord, I’m someone's mum!

I didn’t get the sudden rush of emotions I thought I was going to get and of course didn’t realise why at that moment. I’ve always been a baby person, cooing at every baby I passed, so was taken aback when I didn’t have that same wave of love as soon as my little girl was placed on my chest. Maybe it was the window cleaner ruining the vibe or maybe it was just that the room felt so sterile, but there was just a sense of - the job had been done, what am I meant to be feeling now? Nobody had any panic on their faces as I looked at the end of the bed. All with big grins and wishing me congratulations. I gently moved Islas head away as I proceeded to vomit, alot. The last 24 hrs had come to a head and as the adrenaline wore off, my body went into shock. After a good few rounds of being sick, Isla came and nestled back in for some skin to skin. I felt beyond drained, but my first bit of motion came in when we decided on her name. My husband looked at me and said “shes an Isla isn’t she” yep, Hello Isla. 

Suddenly the mood changed and within 3 minutes I was very quickly whisked away. Oh, this why I didn’t feel the rush of emotions? Remember I said no one had a look of panic on their faces? Well, this is clearly what they're trained to do, a bit like cabin crew on a bumpy flight. A form was shoved under my nose. I felt too weak to even hold the pen, yet managed to scribble my signature to say I was fine with whatever happened to me. I had endured a 3/4c tear and had lost ¼ of all my blood. They had got the scan wrong (again not normal) and Isla had come out shoulder first. I entered the theatre; my limp body still numb with the spinal block and epidural and lay there, exhausted, while they did what they had to do. It felt like I had the whole hospital in my room, until the alarms went off. Then everybody left. 

They had to choose her over me. Even though what had happened to me put me on the high dependency list with all hands-on deck, they got me as stable as they could before they had to rush off to another woman whose case was far worse than mine (she was fine in the end). My husband was down the corridor and all he saw was a ton of people running past and the alarms going off, he of course thought the worst. He sent a voice note to my Mum saying Isla had been born but Anna wasn’t good and to this day I can’t bring myself to listen to it. I can only imagine the fear he must have felt thinking he was going to embark on this journey we had fought so hard to be on, alone. The hours ticked by whilst I lay there, my husband meanwhile left terrified. I started to feel so weak. “Am I going to die?” I asked “and if I am, please can you stroke my hair?”. Sarah who had not left my side proceeded to stroke my hair. Oh does that mean yes then? 

My eyes started to roll back and suddenly the room filled up again. Stay with us Anna I heard people mummering. I felt so weak I truly didn’t care what happened at this point, I had no fight in me. They began questioning if I needed another blood transfusion on top of the one I had already received. I was already anemic throughout my pregnancy, so it was going to be a tough fight to get my iron levels back up. They had to move fast as my placenta hadn’t delivered by itself. A manual removal was the only way, and more tearing was endured during this process - more blood lost. By this point I was whiter than white, and I fly a serious flag for milk stems as it is! But thankfully they got things under control and although a weak mess, I was alive. 

Suddenly I saw a little Christmas hat come around the corner into theatre. It was her. My eyes filled up. My husband was begging to see me as I’d been in theatre for 3 hours by this point, a combination of waiting, them ‘fixing me up’ and administering the blood transfusion. He wasn’t allowed, but once I was more stable, my little bubba was allowed to see her Mumma! Handed to be like the perfect parcel, there she was so tiny and peaceful. That rush of emotions suddenly ignited. Oh, this is what they meant. It was 6 days before Xmas when I gave birth, so the maternity ward was decorated with Christmas decorations which just added to the magical moment. I was wheeled back to my room and there we were; me, my little girl and hubs – from that point on we entered the glorious baby bubble. 

The days that followed were uncomfortable but precious. I was lucky that Isla latched on straight away and seemed to know what to do. I was on the high dependency ward being checked every hour and given a multitude of drugs and a pad that needed changing numerous times a day. The first time a stood up I was like a frail old woman and the dizziness I felt was like no other. One of my favourite memories however was of those first few days in hospital. Isla used to wake up at 2am for a long feed and I’d sit there propped up gazing into her eyes and out of the window seeing just a few road gritters and the odd car go past. I hobbled out a few times to get the midwives attention in the early hours for help, limping beneath the Christmas lights and wondered if I could actually just stay here a bit longer – I may sound crazy after what I endured, but I felt like a warrior and was in the, albeit sore, baby bubble of dreams with the most amazing support. I sat back in my bed, with Isla so tiny next to me in her little cot and thought to myself, we had finally made it. Years of trying, angst and tears had suddenly turned into tears of joy and the beginning of our own family unit. She really had made it home. 

By Anna Johnson