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Lizzie had arrived at 36 weeks, and I assumed Catherine would be early too - so of course, I was unbearably impatient from 36 weeks onwards. In the end, she arrived on her due date, 10th october 2004. I'd had signs that she was on her way - a show (which the midwives thought was evidence of an infection, though *I* thought it was a show) on the Thursday and horrific amounts of mucus on Saturday and overnight.
Rob was running an 8 mile race on the Sunday morning, and we'd planned to go and watch, but I thought things might be about to start, so I decided to stay at home. When the contractions started just after the race did, I was soooo tempted to ring the race organiser and ask him to announce it over the PA system as he was coming down the Home Straight - "And in 15th place here's Rob K of the Serpentine Running Club - run a bit faster Rob, your wife is in labour!"
The contractions began just after 8am and were regular, every 3-4 minutes I think, but not really painful - though distinctly different to Braxton Hicks. By lunchtime they were hurting, but not too bad. The in-laws had turned up by then and I wandered around chatting happily, just stopping occasionally to catch my breath.
I rang the hospital to say I was coming in, but they said I sounded fine and to have a bath instead. I didn't feel I needed pain relief, so didn't want a bath - but I was a bit worried that it was a half hour drive. Twenty minutes later the contractions were 2 minutes apart, lasting almost a minute, and very painful, so we set off. I was breathing through the contractions, concentrating on counting my breaths, and scared that either: a) we wouldn't make it in time, or b) I'd get to hospital and they'd tell me I hadn't really started yet!
The woman at the desk kept asking me questions which I couldn't answer, as the time between contractions was so short. "Is your partner here?" "He's uh...uh...uhhh..... parking ....uh...uh...uhhhh ....car....."
So, I waddled (slowly) down to the delivery room, stopping to hold onto the wall. The midwife offered me gas and air. I said I'd try it, but last time it had done no good. I proceeded to giggle hysterically, saying "See? It doesn't do any good...tee hee hee!". I remember saying “We’re going to have a baby. It’s a different baby. It’s not Lizzie!”. So I guess the gas and air was working after all… The midwife examined me and then SPLOOSH! Apparently the waters had been bulging, so she caught them with a finger nail to rupture them. She then said "You’re 7-8cm....no, maybe 7-9..... actually, you can push if you want!"
When I realised how close we were, and that this wasn't going to last much longer, the euphoria (together with being stoned out of my head on the gas and air) made the last part fly by. It took a good few pushes, but Catherine arrived only half an hour after we got to the hospital ("Take a bath" my foot!). The ‘established labour’ was only an hour and a half – they said they only count it from when the contractions are regular and painful – I’d had contractions all morning, but they weren’t particularly painful.
The midwife put Catherine straight onto my belly. I hadn’t had time to change out of my normal clothes, so I stripped off and let her feed straight away - this is my favourite ever photo! I had been worrying that I wouldn’t love a second baby as intensely as I love Lizzie – but that fear disappeared the moment she was born.
It couldn’t have been more different from my labour with Lizzie – which was completely in hospital, after my waters had broken early, and was scary, long, and very painful until I gave in and had an epidural. With Lizzie I didn’t feel the urge to push, though I felt the pain at the end, and I felt completely out of control. This time, I was out of control, but only because my body was taking over and doing what it needed to do. I’d never been one to yearn after a positive birth experience – I only cared about getting the healthy baby at the end. But somehow I ended up with a positive experience – it was exhilarating. I was on an incredible high and didn’t come down for days.
I’ve sometimes heard labour and birth compared to running a marathon. Well, I’ve done both in the last 18 months, and giving birth is faster and hurts less! But then, I did have a particularly good birth this time, and I had a particularly bad marathon!