The First

My first pregnancy ended, as many firsts do, with high blood pressure leading to induction of labour (IOL). I did not need a prostin pessary as they were able to break my waters and I was started on an oxytocic drip. From that moment on my whole world changed as I was brutally introduced to extreme and unrelenting pain. As a defensive mechanism I curled up into a fetal ball and escaped into the apparent safety of my own mind, hiding there away from the trauma being inflicted on my pregnant body. At one stage I remember opening my eyes to peep outside my refuge to see my husband eating the packed lunch that he had brought with him. As I watched him munching on his tuna sandwiches I marvelled at how the world was able to carry on turning unperturbed in my hour of need. I decided that it was safer inside as the pain was still there so I closed my eyes and went away. Not long after this I felt a sharper pain in my leg and found the midwife injecting me with something. I never did find out what it was, pethidine perhaps? It was amazing how during the 1980s you could be given any treatment without your consent. My concept of the world became fuzzy after that as I settled into an even deeper catatonic state. I surprised everyone then by proceeding to push my baby out in record time resulting in bi lateral 2nd degree tears that took an hour to suture. But I had done it. I had survived. My reward was a beautiful little boy who I fell instantly in love with. After this trauma I set out to find another way to labour. There was no way I would ever allow myself to be tortured during childbirth again. My findings led me to discovering the hidden truth, labour contractions are not meant to cause pain. I vowed that my second labour would be different, and it was.