When One Pregnancy Ends and Another Begins

Part 1.

2019. My first pregnancy was smooth- I breezed through it, blissfully ignorant of everything that was to follow. Two days before my due date, I suspected my waters had broken (not the dramatic movie gush, just a tiny leak I initially mistook for my constant need to pee), with no signs of labour. As I had tested positive for Group B strep virus, I was induced after 24 hours to reduce risk of transmission to baby. Labour began and escalated dramatically- thank you, Pitocin (intravenous hormone drip to induce labour)! I took the epidural, felt incredible relief and labour progressed for the next few hours. Then began the push struggle and baby’s heart rate dropped. I was rushed to a very bright and chaotic operating theatre full of people. Overdosed on epidural and now spinal, I felt myself detach- numb, dizzy, watching from somewhere far away. They asked me to sign the consent form for c-sec and it felt strange- I could barely think! I was subjected to an episiotomy, as the final chance to push before resorting to c-sec. I could feel nothing- how was I expected to know when to push? I ended up having an assisted vaginal delivery with ventouse (suction cup). Baby Veera was perfect in every way, yet it took a whole night at the high intensity unit (to recover from the drugs), to even acknowledge her presence. I walked away in love with my baby, but feeling utterly stripped of agency and knowledge.

Part 2.

2022. My second pregnancy-just as smooth as my first. 3 months in, I noticed some bleeding, panicked and headed to the hospital. We waited 8-10 hours and were sent home without being checked. “You have a scan booked for later this week, we’ll see you then”. The bleeding increased and 12 hours later we were back in the hospital. I nearly fainted on the way. The sanitary pads proved to be pointless by the time I got to the hospital. I was wheeled in urgently to a room this time. Sitting soaked in blood, I was overcome with pain and grief as I heard the words “I’m sorry you have miscarried”. The baby was henceforth referred to as “pregnancy tissues” by the staff as if that would somehow soften the blow. Several hands and tools went into my vagina- no offer of pain relief meds. The pain was excruciating and the experience, traumatic. After hours of being told to wait to pass the pregnancy tissues (blood now being mopped off the floor) I was wheeled into theatre for a D&C procedure to prevent haemorrhage. We went back home unpregnant- but it took my body a month or two to get the memo- I continued to get bigger. For months I questioned why me, or what I could have done to prevent this horror, eventually coming to the realisation that my body was incredible for knowing not to continue.

"Reflections Three completely different experiences."

Part 3.

2023. Pregnancy #3 felt different from the start. First trimester was filled with anxiety- every time I went to the toilet, I held my breath as I scanned for blood. Memories of loss were still raw. Second trimester brought some reassurance, but migraines and asthma attacks took over. Somewhere in the middle of it all, I realised I couldn’t keep living in fear. I needed to change my mindset. With the encouraging support of friends, I took the hypnobirthing course by The Positive Birthing Company. I felt a spark of optimism! I wrote my birth plan calmly, to deliver at the birth centre, supported only by a midwife, free of interventions or drugs unless I asked for them.

At 35 weeks, after a great day out with D, while I was playing with 4 year old V before her bedtime, I felt a gush. There was no doubt this time. My waters had broken. I had naively expected D-day to be a few weeks away! With Strep B virus, if labour didn’t start naturally, I knew I’d need IV antibiotics and induction within 24 hours to protect the baby. Induction would make it harder to have the birth I had hoped for. To make things more complicated, our friends were away for Christmas, and my parents weren’t due for two more days. Who would watch V?

More gushes! I called my neighbour who appeared within minutes to take over V's care as we ran out of the house with a semi packed hospital bag. At the hospital, the midwife confirmed I wouldn’t be going home that night. With no contractions yet, D and I discussed our options and calmly chose induction. This time, it felt different. I was still in charge of my birth. I put on my noise-cancelling headphones (10/10 would recommend!), queued up a bollywood playlist which I created on the spot, and slipped into the breathing rhythm I had practiced. As expected with Pitocin, the pain-o-meter moved very quickly from 0 to 10. The breathing track (shoutout Freya app!) became my anchor- helping me blur out the chaos and stay focussed to let my body do its thing. At some point I hit a wall. I asked the midwife how much longer and she said "Maybe another 5-6 hours". My heart sank.- it felt impossible to keep going. The anaesthetist arrived to offer the epidural, and for a moment, I almost said yes. But something shifted. I told them to wait. I was transitioning. I got onto all fours, gripping the bars of the bed. I could feel baby inching down. Thirty minutes later, Bodhi was in my arms.

It was primal and wild- I trusted my body, and it delivered (literally). The rush of adrenaline and euphoria was unlike anything I’d ever felt. I laughed through tears, telling D I could do it all over again (though we both knew this was our last!).