Part 16 - Preparing for the Birth

We now had a date for the baby’s planned birth, that is, of course, if s/he didn’t arrive earlier, although I was adamant that this wouldn’t happen. I was having a hard enough time accepting that the baby would be born at 38.5 weeks’ gestation, a whole week and a half earlier than the ‘due’ date. I concluded that this ‘early’ delivery would result in the baby having fragile lungs and a dodgy digestive system and with that a week immune system and years of allergies ahead. 

The specialist had tried to allay my fears. He explained that at 37 week’s gestation a pregnancy is considered full-term as the baby’s lungs are understood to be fully developed and the baby’s gut contains meconium – the sticky green substance that forms the baby’s first poo after birth. Furthermore, while the immune system is still developing, the baby is considered to be able to survive perfectly well outside the womb without any need for special care.

That said, he was keen to allow the pregnancy to progress beyond 37 weeks but was trying to balance that up with the risk of me going into early labour and suffering blood loss as a result of the placenta previa. Thus 38.5 weeks seemed a happy medium. Not that I was particularly happy about any of it.

I certainly wasn’t pleased to discover that with my condition there is an increased risk of blood loss during the Caesarean section and with that a potential blood transfusion. It certainly wasn’t ideal and I was upset about the prospect of this. I was keen to provide my own blood in advance in case it was required, but sadly this wasn’t allowed. This frustrated me and I was adamant that I didn’t want to have to take on someone else’s blood and energy and prayed with renewed vigour for a safe delivery.

However, this was compounded a week later when I went to see the anaesthetist. She explained that the Caesarean section would be carried out with spinal anaesthesia, which involves a one-off injection in the lower spine that works quickly and gives sufficient anaesthesia for the whole operation. This would enable me to be conscious during the whole birth and for E to join me in theatre.

However, she did stress that there’s always a risk that the spinal doesn’t take properly and a general anaesthetic would then be required.  If this happened E wouldn’t be allowed into theatre so neither of us would witness the birth. The whole concept of missing the birth filled me with huge fear. I’d known this happen to friends of mine and it had taken them a long time to come to terms with this.

I knew the anaesthetist was under an obligation to inform me of the worst case scenario, but I wish I hadn’t known. It was totally irrational on my part but I couldn’t let this idea of missing the birth go. Not one single thing about the conception or the pregnancy had gone the way I intended and now I just had this horrible feeling that I wouldn’t even get to see the baby arrive Earth side.

And while I knew fear is simply false evidence appearing real, and that I should be transmuting this feeling into love instead, I was well and truly caught up in the negativity of it.  My solar plexus, my navel centre then, was certainly not happy and I could feel it gurgling as the anxiety crept in and the big black hole of despair begin to open up again. My heart didn’t stand a chance in keeping the love alive…the fear had set in.

So I kept busy. Being busy is what I do best, it comes naturally to me. And now I had a good reason to keep busy, as it would distract me from the fear I was feeling. It was good timing really that I got involved in an additional project at work that ensured I was very busy, right up until the end of the pregnancy.

Despite the need to be busy, at 36 weeks I realised that it was time to ease up on teaching yoga and channelling Reiki. I was carrying all out front and and my bump was beginning to get in the way – it was becoming increasingly challenging to demonstrate during yoga classes and the students were concerned of an early delivery in the yoga space! This gave me additional time to focus on the office work instead.

I had decided that I would work right up until the day before the planned birth. My best friend who had birthed four children by then was keen to stress the need for me to take some time out to calm and relax myself ahead of the birth but I was having none of it. I was only able to take 12 weeks’ maternity leave as it was, and I felt that I wanted to save all of that time to spend with the baby, plus I was just far too busy at work to leave any earlier than this.

As it was I didn’t know quite how I was going to get everything finished in time and as only part of my role was being covered in my absence, I was well aware I would need to keep abreast of things during my maternity leave. Knowing when I was likely to have the baby did then have its positives, in so much enabling me to plan and manage my workload.

Looking back, I realise how desperately unprepared I was for the arrival of the baby and how much I was in denial of how my life was about to change. I’d become so wrapped up in the pregnancy and the birth that I hadn’t really thought beyond this. I had overlooked the fact that the pregnancy and indeed the birth were all leading me to the ultimate dream, which had always been to have a baby.    

That’s not to belittle the experience of being pregnant, I loved it! It was insightful and beautiful and I had grown rather attached to my bump. And while the birth was still an unknown quantity to me, I was aware that it can be a hugely empowering and beautiful experience; not only does it mark the transition from maidenhood to motherhood, but it also brings new life into the world. It’s certainly a big deal.

But it had become nothing short of a huge drama in my life, and I was so caught up in it that I couldn’t see the bigger picture. It was the baby that I had spent most of my life dreaming about having. Not the birth. Not the pregnancy. And yet all I’d done for the past eight months was read books on pregnancy and birth and not one single book on babies and how to care for them. We hadn’t even joined the NCT classes.

I was also in complete denial about the manner in which having a baby may possibly change my working life. I just assumed that this would continue as usual.  My parents had already kindly agreed to look after the baby while I was in the office and E would be able to look after him/her while I was teaching yoga and practising Reiki. I just felt that my life would fairly much continue as usual, just with a little bit more organisation!

D-day – or C-day really - loomed ahead of me as I tried to get on top of my workload and do what I could mentally to prepare myself for the birth.  I didn’t feel there was anything to do physically, because it didn’t feel like I was going to be doing much birthing – the baby was going to be birthed for me. That was a strange feeling but by then I’d stopped giving it too much thought. It’s not that I’d accepted my fate, far from it, more so that I tried not to think about it too much.

My home yoga practice was essential at this time, and I made sure to get on my mat every day, as well as attending the weekly pregnancy yoga classes with Anita.  The slow pace of these classes made much more sense to me now.  My energy levels were not what they had been earlier on in the pregnancy and the bump was decidedly large and my back often ached. 

Not only that but I couldn’t get a good night’s sleep on account of all the trips to the toilet and the effort it took to find a comfortable sleeping position propped as I was with a number of pillows. Everyone kept telling me to rest and get as much sleep as I could, which began to annoy me after a while as I found it impossible to do either in this later stage of pregnancy. Still I made the most of the opportunity to soak in a warm lavender infused bath and I tried to get to bed early, even if it was just to read my book.

As C-day quickly approached the frequency of the midwife appointments increased. These were used to check my blood pressure, check for protein in my urine, listen to the baby’s heartbeat, measure the size of my bump (to check baby growing) and check the positioning of the baby – still breech!

Fortunately, I didn’t bleed, which was a relief. That’s not to say I didn’t spend much of the latter part of the pregnancy constantly concerned about bleeding.  Any slight change in sensation of discharge found me dashing to the nearest toilet or to the nearest place I could discretely check whether the discharge was blood.  After the earlier miscarriage scare I was paranoid about blood and the placenta previa merely compounded this.

A few weeks before the planned birth, I was told that I needed to be on the ward by 7am on the morning of the surgery with the surgery itself scheduled for later that morning. It sounds silly but this incensed me.  I didn’t want to be in the hospital any longer than I needed to be and I certainly didn’t want to be getting up for 7am to spend a few hours sitting around in the hospital, getting tired and increasing anxious about the procedure.

I wanted to stay at home until the last moment and have time to practice yoga in an effort to centre and ground myself ahead of this most life changing event. I spoke with my midwife to see if the time could be changed but she was powerless to do anything about it. Before too long the whole ‘time to go to the hospital’ became something of a drama, because it made absolutely no sense to me and it was one thing I felt that I should be able to control, because let’s face it, I couldn’t control anything else about the birth.

I believe it was this that was getting to me. I had lost all control.  The Goddess of the Moon was dancing and I still didn’t know how to dance with her.  I didn’t know how to let go.  I didn’t know how to go with the flow. Because none of this flow was flowing the way I wanted it to.

Fortunately, my lovely doula, Anita, whose services were somewhat limited now by the medicalised nature of the birth, spoke to the Head of Midwifery and negotiated a later arrival time for me. It’s sounds silly, but this made a huge difference to my mental state and while I was still petrified about all the things that could go wrong about the birth itself, at least I had longer that morning at home.

The weekend prior to the birth I tried to prepare myself as best I could, not least in terms of getting in the sea to try and ground myself but also in preparing the cottage for the arrival of the baby and preparing my hospital bag.  A friend who had previously had a number of Caesarean sections helpfully suggested what I may need to help with this post-op in terms of clothing.  I also made sure to stock up on pro-biotics and Arnica.

I was still in some denial about what lay ahead. I had read nothing about Caesarean birth and the implications of this post-partum as I didn’t want to experience any additional fear. And while on the one hand I joked about taking my yoga mat with me into the hospital, I did exactly that because I figured I would be able to practice post op in the time that the baby was sleeping – how I laugh about this now!

I worked in the office until 5.30pm the night before the birth and continued working on my blackberry later into the evening. It felt very surreal, knowing that I wouldn’t be back in the office, well not properly, for 12 weeks and yet mentally still very much in the ‘work’ zone despite knowing I was going to meet my baby the next day. This certainly wasn’t how I imagined birth to be!

Sleep certainly didn’t come easily that evening. I was excited about finally meeting our little bean Earth side, but anxious too about the Caesarean section, and whether I’d be able to breastfeed and the fact our life would never again be the same. Of course I wanted this change, I wouldn’t have chosen to get pregnant otherwise but the enormity of it was desperately challenging and I know E felt it too.

We’d been such free spirits for so much of our lives, more or less able to do what we wanted when we wanted, that we were both concerned in our own ways about how this would be affected with a baby in our lives too. Only time would tell, and for now I was just grateful that I could begin the next day with a short practice on my mat and a moment in the garden in the cool and damp air desperately trying to ground myself.

Part 15 - the Trials and Tribulations of Pregnancy

I absolutely loved being pregnant, it had felt like a long time in coming, and I was keen to enjoy every part of it. That’s not to say it was without its challenges, not at all, pregnancy is rife with them, at least that’s my experience, but it was all a novelty to me that first time. 

The first trimester was certainly tough going - the morning sickness, the inherent tiredness and the miscarriage scare.  So too the need to pee all the time. It was crazy how often I needed to go to the toilet during the night, sometimes as much as six times! I didn’t realise initially that this need to pee is often one of the first signs of pregnancy, no one had mentioned that to me, but then no one had mentioned much to me about pregnancy, beyond the morning sickness.

This excessive need to pee seemed to be an on/off theme throughout the pregnancy depending on the hormonal changes taking place at any one time and the positioning of the baby in the growing uterus, which at times pressed on the bladder. The peeing at night thing got so ridiculous that I even stopped drinking water in the early evening and tried to reduce my consumption of high-water content vegetables and salads, as I was convinced this was compounding the situation but it seemed to make little difference.

The peeing thing certainly was my main concern when it came to our festival camping that summer too.  It wasn’t so bad at the Sark Folk Festival as we were camped in a field and I could easily pee to the side of the field without disturbing anyone else. It’s actually rather pleasant peeing outside in the darkness of the night, with the stars above and the sound of the sea in the distance.

Womad was a bit trickier. The campsite was rammed with tents so I took along a bucket and used that in the tent during the night instead. There was no way I was traipsing all the way to the communal toilets and risking tripping over tent pegs and ropes in the process. It felt a tad awkward the next morning, going to empty my bucket, but we were up earlier than most as I certainly wasn’t partying late into the night!

There was a respite during the second trimester when the peeing was replaced with indigestion and heart burn. The indigestion is partly caused by hormonal changes, and in later pregnancy by the growing uterus pressing on the stomach. Heartburn on the other hand is caused by stomach acid passing from the stomach into the oesophagus and is really rather debilitating.

The heartburn certainly challenged me because it didn’t seem to matter how healthily I ate; I’d still end up with this horrible burning sensation in my throat. I finally figured out that apples, pitta bread and eating my lunch at my desk aggravated it so I avoided that. The only way I could ever seem to relieve it was by chewing gum or, if that didn’t work, taking Gaviscon.  Neither options were ideal but it got to the point where I didn’t care too much, and I was almost overdosing on Gaviscon at times, anything to feel some relief.

There were nights where I had to try and sleep virtually upright, supported by a whole heap of pillows to ease the burning sensation in my throat. I had to adjust my yoga practice too, and ensure I didn’t eat for a good while before getting onto my mat. E got sick of hearing me moaning about it, but it’s one of those things that unless you’ve experienced it you don’t realise how unbearable it can be, especially when it happens day in and day out and you feel powerless to change it. 

Then all of a sudden the heartburn disappeared and I became consumed by the discomfort of constipation instead. Like most, I loathe being constipated as it makes me feel so yucky and I have always tried to do what I can from a diet and lifestyle perspective to support my digestive system and ensure regular bowel movement. I drank lots of water, ate short grain brown rice, consumed soaked linseeds, took probiotics, and practiced yoga poses which are meant to ease constipation but none of these approaches seemed to make any difference.

The trouble is, during pregnancy you experience an increase in the hormone progesterone, which relaxes the smooth muscles throughout the body, including the digestive tract. This means that food passes through the intestines more slowly. This can be compounded later on in the the pregnancy by the pressure of the growing uterus on the rectum. Iron supplements, particularly in high doses can often make constipation worse, which was one reason I wanted to avoid them if I could.

But alas not.  My iron levels dipped during the pregnancy, probably a result of my vegetarian diet and also the fact the baby takes whatever minerals and vitamins it needs from the mother, often leaving her with diminished supplies.  I was prescribed iron tablets but these made me feel horrible so I stopped taking them and tried to do what I could through my diet to increase my iron levels instead.  I supplemented with iron water and Floradix liquid iron, but I was never sure these were effective.

It wasn’t all grey clouds though, there were lots of silver linings too. These conditions were all very annoying but were hugely overridden by the joy of being pregnant in the first place.  Here I was growing a real life human being inside of me, it was both magical and mysterious.  I’m astounded to this day that my body knew how to do this without me giving it any thought and without me having to truly get involved in the process – well beyond the conception and eating well.  That in itself is nothing short of a miracle!

Throughout my pregnancy I continued with my usual workload, teaching yoga, channelling Reiki and working in the office part-time.  In addition to trying to practice regular yoga nidra, I also tried to make an effort to rest during the day but resting has never come easily to me and I was grateful for the summer sun sun as it encouraged me to lie down and bathe in it.  I had to be careful though because skin becomes more sensitive to the sun during pregnancy due to rising hormone levels and is at greater risk of burning.

I found swimming invaluable while I was pregnant. During the summer I made the most of sea swimming, something which we do all year around anyway, but which became essential while pregnant, to cool down and take the weight off. It’s an exceptional leveller as you cannot help but feel more grounded, energised and uplifted after being in the sea, especially at my favourite South coast bays nestled by the stunning cliffs.

I swam in a swimming pool too to keep myself fit, and also to ease the strange sensation of the skin stretching to accommodate the growing baby. I have scar tissue from surgery many years ago now when my gallbladder was removed, and the expanding bump had to stretch through this.  At times it felt extremely uncomfortable like the skin itself would split (to the extent I thought maybe I should see a doctor) and swimming seemed to be the only thing to ease this.

While the discomfort of the stretching skin finally eased, I then experienced times where the skin over my tummy would feel really itchy and I’d find myself scratching incessantly. I massaged an organic Vitamin E oil onto my tummy each night, which I believe helped to keep the skin supple and prevented stretch marks forming during the pregnancy. It’s incredible that the skin can stretch as it does and contract back again afterwards.

As my stomach grew, I became increasingly aware of the baby’s movements. Its fairly remarkable that you get to feel the baby moving inside your tummy and it freaked E out. My Mum on the other hand loved putting her hand on my tummy and channelling Reiki and feeling her grandchild kick. It was an active baby and there was certainly lots of kicking at all times of day and night.

Sometimes it felt that I had a foot wedged up in my diaphragm so it made it difficult and uncomfortable to breathe, and other times it was back to the pressure in my bladder as the baby pressed down on it. I loved watching my tummy move, this was particularly obvious in the bath but often when I was sunbathing too.  S/he responded to Reiki almost immediately and it was a constant source of comfort to be able to feel the baby move so easily so that I knew it was literally alive and kicking.

What astounded me most was all the attention I received while pregnant, and the fact that the general public treat you so differently to how they treat you ordinarily.  Complete strangers would remark on the bump and ask after my health and wellbeing as well as enquiring into my due date and the sex of the baby – and often telling me what sex they thought the baby would be on account of the shape of my bump. It was quite extraordinary and rather entertaining at times too.

Consequently, I felt supported and cared for in a way that I have never felt previously.  Doors were held open, chairs were provided, people would offer to carry things for me - my students were great, someone would always meet me when I arrived at class to help carry things up the stairs, and in the the office the boys wouldn’t even let me empty the shredding bins – and generally people were rather lovely to me. It was marvellous and made me consider how wonderful the world would be if we were all treated with such courtesy and compassion every day!

I received lots of attention from the medical world too. Initially of course there was the IVF and the early pregnancy scans this brought with it, then the miscarriage scare and the additional scan for this, and then the placenta Previa. This meant yet more scans and appointments with the specialist to discuss the birth and what might happen if I began bleeding before then.  And of course there were the midwife appointments, which increased in frequency as the pregnancy progressed.

Since discovering the holistic approach to healing and wellbeing years earlier, I had become increasingly resistant to the allopathic world. I rarely needed to see the doctor, and tried to take the natural approach at every opportunity, embracing the concept of healing thyself.  I have always felt that there is an emotional/mental/spiritual perspective to any illness, and no amount of pharmaceutical drugs will resolve this without also making changes to our lifestyle and way of thinking etc.

So the fact I was now under the care of the allopathic world of specialists didn’t fill me with much joy and while I had little choice, I was resistant. I was still so angry about the placenta Previa, and while I appreciated that in the past, without scans and specialists, I would most certainly die at childbirth and probably the baby would die too, I couldn’t truly open my heart to the care being provided.

I was still very much caught in the ‘us/them’ world, which when I reflect back is laughable. There I was trying to be an open minded, non-judgemental yoga teacher and holistic practitioner, and yet I was being exactly the opposite – close minded and judgmental.  I could only see ‘my way’ and felt that any other way lacked the spirit of birth.

Unconsciously, I also felt I knew best and I was disapproving of anyone else’s perspective on it.  I was sick of people telling me it was all about the safety and wellbeing of the baby.  “What about me?”, I wanted to say to them, “don’t I get a say in this? What about my dreams, what about the spiritual homebirth and the orgasmic birthing and spiritual insights and awakenings that a vaginal birth can bring?”.

But the thing is, with placenta Previa you don’t get a say in anything as it’s a life threatening condition and that is what frustrated me.  I had no choice and I blamed anyone I could blame for this. I felt cheated of my dream and I loathed the fact that the allopathic world was telling me that the baby needed to be delivered early and that due to my condition there wouldn’t be the opportunity for delayed cord clamping. It was infuriating.

Admittedly, while it would’ve been easy to lose heart and get awfully infuriated with the Universe and the angels, this whole sorry situation encouraged me to drop deeper into my spiritual practice to maintain my grounding. There were moments of course when I did get thoroughly depressed and I felt that the Universe and the angels had it in for me, but actually this was a necessary part of the process, and a surrendering often accompanied this.

In practice what this meant is that I reached the end of my tether and broke down in tears, sobbing on my yoga mat until there were no more tears to sob and praying for help from the angels. I was done with trying to control things (which is an illusion any way) and was passing it on to the powers that be, and in so doing, there was often a form of awakening – it was like the old had to crumble to make way for the new.

I continued to channel Reiki to myself as much as I could and especially onto the growing baby. This was certainly going to be a Reiki baby and I was excited about what this might mean in terms of future behaviour and sensitivity to energy etc. Although I wasn’t sure how much of that would be due to the Reiki or to genetic and energetic disposition, let alone part-life experience and Akashic records.

I also received Reiki regularly from a fellow Reiki practitioner, especially as the birth date approached.  I felt that the Reiki helped to keep me on relatively even keel during this unsettling time and encouraged rest and healing too. I always felt so much better after a session, and truly believe that every pregnant lady should receive Reiki during their pregnancy.  It’s deeply relaxing, non-invasive, very gentle and benefits both mother and baby.

What also helped was spending time in nature. I walked regularly through the lanes near our cottage, and out on the stunning cliffs, often with E in tow.  I have fond memories of the time we spent together walking and often chatting about how our lives were about to change, and yet neither of us really having any idea of the extent of that change. I don’t know that you can ever appreciate the magnitude of the change for you until you’ve experienced it first hand.

I’ll never forget a conversation I had with my Mum one day about how things might or might not change.  We were out walking and chatting excitedly about life with the baby and about how I was going to manage my workload. I distinctly remember hearing myself say “but it can’t be that difficult, all babies do is sleep, feed and poo, I’ll have plenty of time to work”.  She tried to manage my expectation but I was truly in denial.

By then I’d bought a lot of the stuff that friends had suggested I may need when the baby arrived. It certainly was a lot. E wasn’t involved in this process as I think it was all too much for him; life really was changing! We were fortunate that we bought most of our stuff second hand from a family friend, which helped keep our costs down. You can get really carried away with all this and I now know that actually you need very little for a baby.

We bought brand new flat pack furniture for the baby’s room as I felt the baby should have something new. I’ll never make that mistake again.  I thought I was being a wonderfully clever Mummy putting it all together one weekend all on my own, but the truth is, it wasn’t much of an investment as its never worked properly and I’ve no idea why I thought I needed furniture specifically for a baby, because we’ve actually got quite a lot of stuff to try and fit into it!

I initially made a mistake with pregnancy clothes too. Someone had told me to simply buy clothes in a bigger size, but in my opinion this was rubbish advice.  You can’t beat the comfort of proper maternity clothes and while it feels a waste of money to buy these for such a short period of time, it was well worth it from my experience. I was lucky as some clothes were donated to me and to be honest, I just got used to wearing the same things all the time, it was no big deal.

Pregnancy is funny because sometimes it seems to drag on – certainly when I was suffering morning sickness or waiting anxiously for a scan.  Then other times you just want it to last forever – I’m thinking of the second trimester and lolling around on yoga mats, sunbeds and at festivals. And then towards the end of the pregnancy, I got to a point where I was ready to get on with it and meet the new life growing inside of me.

Ordinarily, unless you have a planned Caesarean section you don’t know when this might be and there’s lots of excited anticipation around this, not only for the expectant mother but for family and friends too.  I didn’t get to experience this though as I knew in advance the day the baby would be arriving and I wasn’t altogether happy about this.

I did not want the baby being dragged out of its cosy home without any warning, without it being ready, without it being squeezed through the birth canal and gaining the benefits of this - not least in releasing the hormone epinephrine, which clears fluids from the lungs and reduces the likelihood of respiratory issues, but also in exposing the baby to beneficial bacteria to reduce the chances of the baby developing asthma, food allergies and lactose intolerance in later life.

I also didn’t want the cord cut early, nor the baby to miss out on immediate skin to skin and all the benefits that both these practises bring to the future health and wellbeing of the baby and indeed me. I also didn’t want to be in a position where I couldn’t breast feed the baby following the birth and therefore unintentionally create any bonding issues as a result of not being able to do this.

I also didn’t want to be in a hospital, I didn’t want surgery, I didn’t want to take drugs, especially antibiotics which would destroy all the good bacteria in my gut and potentially lead to all sorts of digestive issues let alone mental and emotional issues too. I also didn’t want to have to spend weeks recovering, not able to drive, not able to lift anything and not able to exercise or get on my mat. And nor did I want to feel like a failure because of all this.

So it was with a very heavy heart that I sat with E in the specialist’s office as a date was agreed for the planned Caesarean section.  It was another one of those moments that I’ll never forget. The specialist wanted to deliver the baby at approximately 38.5 weeks and with this awareness, he looked in his diary to figure out the date this would be and whether there was any theatre availability. He concluded that 12th November would work very nicely for him; how did we feel about this? 

Well it was a rhetorical question really and it struck me, that a medical professional could choose the date to bring your baby Earth side, depending on his work schedule and theatre availability, and with that affect its horoscope and its future life path depending upon the positioning of the planets on that day.

But there you go.  The date was set.  That was that. It would seem that rather than bringing a Sagittarius into the world, which would have been the case if the baby arrived on his/her due date, we would be bringing a Scorpio into the world instead. Now I just needed to make it until the date without any bleeding and without going into early labour. 

Part 14 - Yoga and Placenta Previa

Placenta previa or not, I was determined to continue life as normal and enjoy the magic of pregnancy. I was resolute that I wouldn’t bleed, and the baby wouldn’t arrive any earlier than absolutely necessary. It gave me a mission, and I love a mission. It also gave me the opportunity to drop deeply into my spiritual practice and listen.

Being a qualified pregnancy yoga teacher with a solid understanding of how to teach and practice yoga to support a pregnancy and prepare for birth.  However, my training centred around preparing women for a vaginal delivery, and while we did address some of the common pregnancy complications such as symphysis pubis dysfunction, we didn’t study placenta previa.

I researched ‘yoga for placenta previa’ on the internet, but found very little. I suspect no one really wants to take responsibility for advising women what they should or shouldn’t practice as there is such a huge risk of bleeding with this condition. Furthermore, many women are told to avoid exercise and others are put on bed rest for the duration of their pregnancy.

I quickly realised that I was going to have to figure this one out for myself and practice intuitively. This meant putting aside the pregnancy yoga books, and the mental conditioning I had around yoga for pregnancy, not least from my training but from teaching pregnant ladies in my general classes, and figure out what might work best to support me and my condition.

This is how yoga should be practiced ideally, aimed specifically at the individual depending on what is going on for them at any one time.  Of course there are generalisations and the energies of alignment to consider, but every body (quite literally) is different, and in an ideal world yoga should be adapted, and have the flexibility, to suit the individual student’s needs.

Once again, the Universe had provided me with a further opportunity to deepen my experience of yoga, not that I realised the blessing in the curse at the time. I’d invited the Goddess of the Moon into my life so I shouldn’t have been surprised.  She was dancing and weaving her magic in my life but I was so caught up in it I couldn’t see her light.

I was angry with my diagnosis and agonised whether I had caused it. Ordinarily, during the first trimester, one is encouraged to ease off from all physical activity including yoga, due to the higher risk of miscarriage that this trimester brings. Certainly I never knowingly accept pregnant ladies into my class before 12 weeks. However, I paid little attention to this and fairly much carried on as usual depending upon how sick and tired I was feeling.

Often the yoga practice would ease my nausea and give me a little extra energy. I found backbends helpful with this, and twists, although I was mindful of the extent to which I took these. The cells are multiplying at a massive rate during this period and I tried to practice regular yoga nidra to rest and support this process.  I attempted to sit daily too, although this became increasingly tricky as my mind would be so easily distracted by the nausea.

I like to chant mantra but during the first trimester I found that I couldn’t do this as it made me feel very sick. I suspect the energy was too strong for the sensitivity of the developing cells within me and it was only later in the pregnancy that I was able to chant again. I was keen to do all I could energetically, to bathe the growing baby with as much light energy as possible and I made sure to play uplifting music during my practice.

I researched the potential causes of placenta previa but no mention was made of exercise. Instead, research suggests that a pregnant woman is more likely to have this condition if she has had previous pregnancies, a previous Caesarean section, uterine scars, is carrying twins or more, is a smoker, uses cocaine and/or is an older mother. I certainly ticked the older mother box but that aside none of these other causes resonated with me, and I finally let myself off the hook, and concluded that it was just meant to be that way.

During the second trimester (13 to 28 weeks) when my normal energy levels returned again, I found movement absolutely essential in helping to keep my mind as strong as my body. This became even more important when I discovered that I had placenta previa, especially as I was so irritated in those earlier days, and welcomed my practice as an opportunity to work through my frustration and try and stay grounded.

It was a tough period. The pregnancy hormones alone left me tearful and angry at times and this was now compounded by the recent diagnosis.  Up until that point E had never seen me having an anger outburst and to be honest I naively thought I’d worked through all my anger issues during years of yoga, Reiki and other healing work.  I was wrong, and I was as surprised as E. Clearly pregnancy was bringing up a whole other level of stuff that needed expression.

It didn’t help that I knew that anger was a waste of energy.  One of the Reiki principles is ‘just for today, do not anger’. The reason being that anger is a destructive emotion when expressed inappropriately and can create disharmony in the body. That said I was also aware that it can be a powerful motivator for change provided you are consciously aware of your reactions and take charge of your emotions.

Essentially it comes down to expectation and the need to let go of expectation, whether the expectations are those of other people or situations, it doesn’t matter. We get angry when our expectations are not met so the idea if that we let go of expectations, just for today, and see each situation as it is right now. Needless to say I was struggling with this, and it didn’t help that I should have known better.

So I took to my mat with extra vigour.  I continued with my vinyasa practice and paid little attention to the usual guidelines as I moved intuitively. For me it felt great to practice deep backbends as they energised me and helped to relieve the strange sensation of my stretching skin. I also continued inverting as I knew I was going to be having a Caesarean section so I didn’t need to concern myself with the positioning of the baby and thus compromise a vaginal birth.

Intuitively it felt necessary to avoid the poses that women are generally encouraged to practice during pregnancy, the ones which help to prepare the body for a vaginal birth. Instead I felt that I needed to do all I could to keep this baby inside me and to reduce any pressure on the placenta, nestled as it was snuggly over the cervix.

This meant no wide legged seated or standing poses and no squatting. Instead I ended up practicing poses such as Gomukasana (Cow’s face), Virasana (Hero’s pose) and Garudasana (Eagle pose), which helped to draw everything in. I also continued with the back bends, arm balances and the inversions right up until the end of the pregnancy as these felt supportive to the pregnancy.

The amazing thing was, during the latter part of the second and into the third trimester (29-40 weeks) my body made it extremely clear to me which poses to practice and which to avoid. Not only did the bump make it obvious that poses on the tummy and closed twists should be absolutely avoided, but I started experiencing increasing sacral-iliac pain.

This is not uncommon in pregnancy, and certainly there is a prevalence of this condition amongst flexible female yoga practitioners. During pregnancy the body produces a hormone called relaxin, which softens the ligaments and, in theory, helps the baby to pass more easily through the pelvis during birth. This means that the joints can become more mobile during pregnancy and this can cause all sorts of problems, especially for the sacral-iliac joint.

Interestingly the pain around that joint was aggravated by all the poses that I had already felt I should avoid during my pregnancy.  It was genius. My body was absolutely leading the way, and I had no choice but to listen. It was deeply empowering to recognise that my body knew what was best for it in such a profound way.

It was for this reason that I made sure to prioritise a daily 20-minute meditation practice and enjoy regular yoga nidra during my pregnancy. There is no doubt that both my mind and body benefitted immensely from these practises and helped me to stay strong mentally and physically. Pregnancy provided me with an enormous opportunity to hear, listen to, honour and respect my body in a way I hadn’t done previously.

Pregnancy also helped to significantly shift my awareness and experience of yoga, albeit not in the way I had imagined, and it took me a few years to realise this.  I had been so keen to embody the teachings of my pregnancy yoga training that there was a part of me that felt cheated that I wasn’t able to use yoga to prepare for a vaginal birth as I’d seen so many others do and use it to their benefit too.

During my second trimester I started attending a weekly pregnancy yoga class taught by my doula and friend, Anita. Initially in the earlier days when I didn’t have a bump, I found these classes challenging simply because I wasn’t used to practicing so slowly and gently. But as the pregnancy progressed I absolutely loved them and they became the highlight of my week, two hours every Sunday evening to truly indulge in the pregnancy.

Anita created a very sacred and special space with a beautiful altar and candles brightening the room, and calming music playing in the background so that you couldn’t help but feel nourished and nurtured. It was a good balancer for me to be able to practice a gentler and more feminine approach to yoga movement to compliment my more active and yang home practice. It was also a real treat to be guided by someone else, and especially someone as passionate about pregnancy and birth as Anita.

I loved sharing the space with other pregnant ladies as we all took the opportunity to connect with our growing babies. I loved feeling the energy of the baby inside me and I was fascinated by how this shifted throughout the pregnancy so that it became denser and more attuned to my own energy, or me to the baby’s energy perhaps.

It seemed to me that the baby had come into the world, in utero then, with its own energy field (which I couldn’t penetrate) and energetic disposition. This isn’t to say that my own energy work and indeed my thoughts and emotions wouldn’t impact on it in some way; I believe they do and there is research to substantiate this, but more so that the baby was clearly its own person from the outset and I was his/her nourishing vessel. Thus I wanted to do all I could to ensure a loving and nurturing environment for his/her growth.

This was a tricky awareness for me at times, because I was keen to do all I could to ensure that the baby didn’t absorb the anger and frustration I felt towards the placenta previa. And yet I struggled at times with this, because it then became easy to beat myself up about it! I was also very aware that I didn’t want the baby to absorb the fear I felt towards the Caesarean section, but try as I might, it was difficult not to become consumed with this. 

So my practice became important to me energetically and emotionally too, to try and shift my thinking and immerse the baby in lovely yogic and feminine energy.  Anita’s classes helped considerably with this as they gave me the space to just be with my baby and deepen my connection to him/her in utero. S/he was certainly an active baby and responded immediately to me getting on my mat or placing my hands on my bump to channel Reiki.

During the pregnancy yoga classes, Anita was keen to share with us breathing techniques and visualisations which may assist us during the birth. The combination of these and the guided relaxations left me feeling incredibly calm and nourished by the end of the sessions. The only trouble was that towards the end of the pregnancy when I knew with certainty that I was having a Caesarean section (I had been praying for a miracle, just in case!), I switched off from the preparation for birth bit.

It didn’t seem important to me to know how to breathe through contractions or how to use the visualisations to manage my pain, as I wouldn’t be contracting or experiencing the pain that accompanies this. There was a part of me that was desperately sad about this and while I went through the motions, my mind was often elsewhere, running through lists of what I needed to do that week, as my life certainly hadn’t slowed down.

If anything I became busier, it was a coping mechanism I realise, to keep myself occupied so I wouldn’t think too much about the impending birth and the Caesarean section.  It’s perhaps no surprise that in practicing a yang style of yoga daily, I was very yang in my approach to life, just getting on with it, helped by the fact my workload in the office was incredible demanding at the time.

Anita would read these most beautiful quotes during her yoga classes, which talked about the surrendering and letting go that pregnancy and birth encouraged. While I understood this intellectually I didn’t really know what she meant in practice and figured this only really applied to a vaginal birth.

I certainly wasn’t doing any surrendering and letting go, quite the opposite in fact, I was holding on for dear life.  I didn’t want to bleed, I didn’t want to have the baby earlier than necessary and I was still resistant to the idea of the Caesarean birth.

While my connection to the Goddess of the Moon in all her divine feminine beauty deepened during pregnancy, so that I’d bathe in her 28-day light and give thanks and pray to her, I still didn’t yet know what it meant to dance with her.

Anita leads regular wise women workshops too and I was fortunate to attend one of these sessions during the latter part of my pregnancy. Together we belly danced and moved our bodies, swaying and circling and enjoying the movement that resonates with the feminine aspect of ourselves on a very deep level.  We drew labyrinths and doodled on stones, and I found this opportunity for creative expression hugely enlightening.

I shall always be eternally grateful to Anita for her love and the energy she put into these sessions, to help us recognise a part of ourselves that we may not have acknowledged previously. Here we were, all pregnant ladies, embodying both the energy of creation in its most primitive sense and spirit in its purest expression. And these wise women sessions helped me to truly tap into the energy of this; the power of the divine feminine.

This is not to say that the divine feminine is only present in pregnancy however. She is present in our everyday life experience, regardless of the stage of life, whether maiden, mother, crone or otherwise. More so that it took me a long time to recognise this and to know it as an absolute truth within me. And this wise women workshop, which created a collective feminine energy that I had not experienced previously, laid a seed for the future direction that my life and my yoga practice would take.

Still, as the birth approached and I sat with the energy growing inside me, I had to dig very deep into my practice, to overcome the increasing dread I felt. It was for this reason that I kept things active right up until the end, to the extent that at 29 weeks pregnant, I attended a workshop in London with Cyndi Lee, a truly inspiring American teacher, with a sign-off from my doctor for travel off-Island

I continued teaching right up until I was 36 weeks pregnant too. This wasn’t right or wrong and certainly not an indication of what others should do, just this felt right for me during that pregnancy. It gave me a purpose and took my mind away from what was, inevitably, to come.  It unsettled one of the male students in particular though, as each week my bump grew bigger and he was worried I may go into labour during a class!

The baby was breech in the end.  Whether this was due to the positioning of my pelvis, or the placenta previa, or me inverting my body throughout my pregnancy I shall never know. But in practicing in the way that my body guided, I didn’t bleed once during my pregnancy and I didn’t have to go on bed rest or avoid strenuous activity, and the baby didn’t arrive earlier than planned either. It could just have been luck but I like to believe it was the yoga!

Part 13 - The 20 Week Scan and Placenta Previa

It wasn’t long after the morning sickness eased that I felt my first fluttering.  It was the strangest feeling because it was ever so gentle yet strong enough to catch my attention. You could easily have mistaken it for trapped wind, but the more it happened the more I came to recognise that it was the baby moving inside me. Quite amazing!

By 19 weeks, I was feeling much more my usual self to the extent that I even toasted my thirty eighth birthday with a glass of champagne – never has champagne tasted so good!  Up until that point the mere thought of wine and champagne had been enough to turn my stomach, but now the sickness had eased, my taste buds were back to normal again. I also had a lot more energy so I wasn’t having to crash into bed early each evening.

I was jubilant to be pregnant, although I’d come to realise that being pregnant didn’t necessarily mean that I was constantly happy as I may have once imagined. That was another lesson.  I had spent so much of my adult life longing to meet the man with whom I could have a family, that I felt my happiness depended on it. I’d searched the world twice over and spent a lot of time praying to the angels for this dream to come true.

I lost track of the number of conversations I’d had with my best friends about us finding our respective Mr Rights, and about the children we would one day have (one of those friends ended up with Mr Wright incidentally, oh how we chuckle about this!). I’d also lost track of the number of failed relationships we’d had between us in our search for ‘the one’. It wasn’t necessarily that we weren’t happy with our lot, but we figured it would make us and our lives complete to have the ‘ideal’ partner and our child in it.

And now here I was pregnant and with a loving partner and yes, there was a certain feeling of completeness that came with that, but it didn’t mean that I was constantly happy. There were days when I was very happy and incredibly joyous about he new life growing inside me, but equally there were days when I felt out of sorts and a little miserable and I found myself praying to the angels for guidance.

It reminded me that our state of happiness and sense of wellbeing is not dependent on anyone or anything else, but on our state of mind and our perspective. After all we choose the thoughts to which we give our attention.  So, even pregnant, I still had my moments.  Plus, I may well have realised the dream of meeting my partner and becoming pregnant, but now I dreamt of a home vaginal birth – there was always another dream, something else to work towards.

The truth is, I thought that a vaginal home birth was the only way I was going to experience the spirituality in birth. I had this image in my head of me birthing on my own in the darkness of the bathroom, all primal and earthy.  I expected to drop my awareness deep into my body and into the sensation of the pain I would inevitably be experiencing so that I could gain insight into the very essence of life and the birthing process. In so doing I imagined a spiritual awakening, a journey into the light, a state of enlightenment.

E wasn’t so sure about this home birth malarkey.  Understandably he wasn’t particularly bothered about my need for spiritual awakening, he was more concerned about the health of the baby and s/he arriving Earth side safely. I was concerned about this too, but it wasn’t my only consideration. I was adamant that the only way I would experience what I wanted to experience was in the home environment. I certainly had no intention of birthing in a hospital as I wanted zero intervention.

Little did I realise how much I was setting myself up for a fall. I figured I was being all spiritual and open minded about birth but now I look back, this was farthest from the truth.  I was in fact incredibly close minded and judgemental.  I just couldn’t understand the reason women would choose to birth in a hospital, and I certainly couldn’t get my head around them choosing to have a Caesarean section, or induction and would be a little vocal about this at times.

A week or so after my birthday, we had an appointment for the 20-week scan. As the date approached I became increasingly anxious and short tempered. It was ridiculous really, but I couldn’t help myself.  I felt on edge and no amount of praying to the angels or Goddess of the Moon was easing this.  I certainly couldn’t sit still to meditate and I was distracted in my yoga practice too. Fear had taken hold and I couldn’t seem to shift this.

We were greeted by the same Australian sonographer who had undertaken our twelve-week scan and her colleague who was undertaking some training with her. This scan is carried out in the same way as the twelve-week dating scan with gel on the tummy and the sonographer passing the ultrasound device backwards and forwards over your skin. I proudly bared my just visible baby bump and lay back on the bed with E sitting beside me.

This scan looks in detail at the baby’s bones, heart, brain, spinal cord, face, kidneys and abdomen, and allows the sonographer to look for physical abnormalities in the baby and specifically for eleven conditions, some of which are very rare. In most cases the scan will show that the baby appears to be developing normally but sometimes the sonographer will find or suspect a problem – some problems can be seen more clearly than others.  

This scan also tends to present the opportunity to discover the sex of the baby, although this isn’t the intention of the scan per se and there is no certainty that it will be 100% accurate.  I’ve known two couples who were told at the twenty-week scan that they were carrying girls, only to end up with boys upon delivery, causing quite a shock and a little adjustment, certainly in terms of pink themed nurseries and pink clothes!

We didn’t want to know the sex of the baby and made sure that the sonographers were aware of this. This didn’t stop me being curious however, especially as the image of the baby was so clear on the screen. It was amazing really. Here was our little bean visible to the naked eye, wriggling around and doing his/her thing and looking like a proper baby. It was very exciting.

The lady sonographer guided us through the process as she carefully checked the baby’s organs and took the necessary measurements required by this scan to determine the size of the baby and check everything looked well. The male sonographer had a look too and fortunately the baby appeared fine, no obvious abnormalities were found. However, the lady sonographer was concerned about the positioning of my placenta, which was still lying low in my uterus.

I’d already researched this a little and had read that one of the most common problems spotted at the twenty-week ultrasound is placenta Previa. The placenta is the pancake-shaped organ, normally located near the top of the uterus, that supplies the baby with nutrients through the umbilical cord. Placenta Previa is where the placenta is nearby, or actually covering some or all of the cervix.

It’s a potentially dangerous condition because if the placenta covers the cervix, it blocks the baby’s way out, requiring a Caesarean section to deliver the baby. More seriously, as the cervix dilates towards the end of pregnancy, the placenta can be torn and bleed, which can be life-threatening to mother and baby.

Complete or partial placenta Previa, where the placenta covers at least a quarter, or even all of the cervix, occurs in around 1 in 200 pregnancies, and requires careful monitoring by a doctor. More common is a marginal placenta Previa, where the placenta is close by, or touching the cervix, but not actually covering it.

At twenty weeks, when the placenta is relatively large compared to the size of the uterus, many women appear to have placenta Previa. However, as the uterus grows, the placenta moves further away from the cervix and by the time they have another scan, 90% of women with marginal placenta Previa at twenty weeks, will likely be given the all-clear and be able to try for a vaginal birth.

Sadly, it looked unlikely that I would be in that 90% as my placenta appeared to be completely covering the cervix. This meant I had to have yet another internal vaginal examination so that the sonographer could be absolutely certain of this. It wasn’t quite what I had in mind that morning and I was slightly daunted by the fact there were two sonographers present, but one does what one has to do in the circumstances.

Much to my utter dismay, the vaginal scan revealed my fears; I had complete placenta Previa. This meant that the placenta was completely covering the cervix and in such a way that it was very unlikely it was going to move from this position. I knew that it wasn’t going to move, I could feel it in my heart, and no amount of people telling me it would, or praying to the angels and the Goddess of the moon was going to change this. It was my fate.

Clearly there were still lessons to be learned on this quest to procreate and become a Mum.  Going through IVF was not enough. And in many respects looking back, I can see clearly the potential blessings in the curse. But back then I was absolutely bereft and it was all I could do to hold it together in the scanning room as the sonographer told me that I would be referred to a specialist and that I should immediately telephone the hospital if I started to bleed.

Once outside the hospital building I burst into tears.  Poor E had no idea what was going on, as far as he was concerned the baby was okay, so why was I crying? And that was the point I missed.  Of course I was delighted that the baby was healthy, but if I’m honest, I fairly much took that for granted.  I hadn’t anticipated a problem with the baby, and perhaps I wasn’t as grateful as I should have been.

All I cared about in that moment was the fact that I was going to have to have a Caesarean section. The baby was going to enter the world in the completely opposite way to the one I had intended, namely early, in a theatre, with lights and noise, and drugs and strangers. This was absolutely not how it was meant to be. I wanted spiritual music and candles, the darkness of the bathroom, and the opportunity to truly go within, birth without fear and have a spiritual experience.

I had a lot to learn.

The Goddess of the Moon was dancing, but I most definitely wasn’t dancing with her.

I telephoned my parents from the car and burst into tears all over again.  They were concerned something was wrong with the baby and were relieved when they found out the problem was with my placenta instead. They tried to help me realise that I should be feeling relieved, not distraught. But I just couldn’t see beyond the Caesarean section, it was like a neon light in my mind flashing, “Caesarean section, Caesarean section, Caesarean section”.

I was angry, very angry. It just didn’t seem fair. What was the Universe playing at? Not only had I had to have a clinical conception (albeit conscious, but it took me a while to recognise this) but now here I was going to have to have a clinical birth too. Plus, there was now an increased chance of painless vaginal bleeding during the third trimester and with that the risk of being hospitalised.

The bleeding happens when the cervix begins to thin out or open up (even a little), which disrupts the blood vessels in the area. What happens after this would depend on the stage of pregnancy, the heaviness of the bleeding and how the baby and I were doing. If the baby was still premature, s/he would be delivered immediately if the conditions warranted it or if the bleeding was so heavy that it didn’t stop.

Otherwise, I would be watched in the hospital until the bleeding stopped. If the baby was less than 34 weeks’ gestation, I would be given steroids to speed up the baby’s lung development and to prevent other complications in case s/he ended up being delivered prematurely. If the bleeding stopped and I remained free of bleeding for at least a couple of days, then I would probably be sent home (it’s likely that the bleeding would start up again at some point and, if that happened, then I would need to return to the hospital immediately).

However, if both of us continued to do well and the baby didn’t need to be delivered right away then a Caesarean section would be scheduled at around 37 weeks, unless there was a reason to intervene earlier. When making the decision, the medical staff would need to weigh up the benefit of giving the baby extra time to mature against the risk of waiting, with the possibility of facing an episode of heavy bleeding and the need for an emergency Caesarean section.

Furthermore, after a baby is delivered by Caesarean section, the obstetrician delivers the placenta and the mother is given medication to encourage the uterus to contract, which helps stop the bleeding from the area where the placenta was implanted. However, with placenta Previa, the placenta is implanted in the lower part of the uterus, which doesn't contract as well as the upper part so the contractions aren't as effective at stopping the bleeding. This may result in heavy bleeding and the need for a blood transfusion.

Also, women who have placenta Previa are also more likely to have a placenta that's implanted too deeply and that doesn't separate easily at delivery. This is called placenta accreta, which can cause massive bleeding and the need for multiple blood transfusions at delivery. It can be life threatening and may require a hysterectomy to control the bleeding.

Finally, if you need to deliver before term, there is a risk that the baby will be at risk of complications from premature birth – such as breathing problems and low birth weight and the need for neo-natal care. It wasn’t ideal. Certainly not the stuff of dreams and it brought with it not only the anger and frustration, but a huge amount of fear too.

Once I’d calmed down and accepted my reality (as much as I ever truly accepted it), I realised that I needed to do what I could to limit the chances of bleeding.  I absolutely didn’t want to end up hospitalised and I had no intention of the baby arriving early. I had read far too much about the implications of premature delivery on a baby’s gut and lung development and the resulting affect this would have on their overall health and wellbeing and I didn’t want this for my baby.

I resolved therefore, that my baby was not going to be delivered early.  I was going to make it my mission to carry on life as usual and do what I could (intuitively) to ensure I didn’t bleed. I was still very angry – and would be for a further three years – but I came to recognise that this condition presented me with yet another opportunity to drop deeper into my spiritual practice and be guided by my body and the messages it was conveying to me.  

Crying on my yoga mat was a good start and from there I resolved to figure out a yoga practice, which would help to keep the baby inside me for as long as possible.  This meant practicing in the completely opposite way to the usual pregnancy yoga sequencing which aims to prepare the body for birthing vaginally and opening everything up accordingly. It was time to put the books aside and go within again.

Part 12 - The Twelve-Week Scan

For many the twelve-week scan is the first time that they get to see their growing baby on a screen. We’d already had a number of scans by this stage, albeit internal vaginal ones, so we were very aware how exciting it is to see your baby in utero. I shall never forget the mind blowing nature of our first scan at 6-weeks gestation, which showed a simple beating heart reminding me that we are all about the heart essentially. Then two weeks later to determine the number of babies I was carrying and seeing little arm and leg buds, equally amazing. 

The twelve-week scans tend to be carried out by specially trained staff called sonographers and conducted in a dimly lit room so the sonographer can get good images of the baby. At the scan itself you’re asked to lie on a couch and to lower your skirt or trousers to your hips and lift your top to your chest so your abdomen is uncovered. The sonographer or their assistant should tuck tissue paper around your clothing to protect it from the gel, which will be put on your tummy.

The sonographer then passes a handheld probe over your skin to be able to examine the baby's body. The gel makes sure that there is good contact between the probe and your skin and in theory a black and white image of the baby will appear on the ultrasound screen. Having the scan doesn’t hurt as such, but the sonographer may need to apply slight pressure to get the best views of the baby and this can be a little uncomfortable with a full bladder.

The sonographer needs to keep the screen in a position that gives them a good view of the baby so the screen may be directly facing them, or at an angle, but you may have another screen ahead of you so you can see what s/he is doing. Sometimes the sonographer will need to be quiet while they concentrate on checking the baby; it’s good to know this so you’re not worrying about what they may have found. They’ll be able to talk to you about the pictures once they've completed the check and if you’re lucky you also get to take some images home with you – here on Guernsey you pay for the privilege.

This first scan at twelve-weeks is sometimes called the dating scan because the sonographer estimates when the baby is due (the estimated date of delivery) based on the baby’s measurements. I already had an idea of my due date because we had an exact date of ‘conception’ from the clinic, so I wasn’t sure how a machine could better that really, and it can’t, it just provides an estimation. However, a lot can hinge on this estimated date in terms of gestation period (in the case of premature babies this has quite some implication) and a date which may determine whether you are ‘overdue’ and require induction (and therefore intervention).

I’ve never been entirely comfortable with the idea of the estimated date.  I appreciate that you need to have one, and I appreciate that many women don’t know when they actually conceived and therefore need an indication of where they are in their pregnancy, but I’m just not convinced we should get too hung up on the date in terms of delivery. 

From my experience babies arrive when they’re ready to arrive and psychologically I’ve seen many women get themselves all worked up when the baby doesn’t arrive on the ‘due date’. They then have induction and intervention hanging over their heads, which can create unnecessary stress.

Furthermore, other people, be that family, friends and/or work colleagues can become very fixated on a date and add additional pressure to the anticipation of the eagerly awaited birth. Lots of judgments can also arise in terms of the size of bump in relation to the stage of pregnancy, which of course brings with it anxieties as people – often innocently - comment on how big the baby may be, or how big you are getting carrying the baby – none of this is helpful, especially if you are already anxious about the potential vaginal delivery!

Still here we were at the dating scan, so it was of course to be expected that we would be given a date and yes, it turned out to be a few days short of the date we had expected based on the information provided to us by Wessex.  The dating machine determined that our little bean would be expected for delivery on 21 November 2013, 9 days short of E’s 47th birthday. I decided however not to place too much emphasis on this date, the baby would arrive when s/he wanted to arrive, and often first babies can be notoriously late.

The 12-week scan can also include a nuchal translucency (NT) scan, which is part of the combined screening test for Down’s syndrome and involves a blood test and an ultrasound scan.  We decided to take the screening test which basically looks at the risk in the pregnancy of the baby being born with Down’s syndrome.  It doesn’t give a definite ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer - if the screening test shows a higher risk that the baby has Down’s syndrome then you are offered a diagnostic test to see if the baby actually does have Down’s syndrome or not. 

The screening involves the scan, where the sonographer measures the fluid collection under the skin at the back of the baby’s neck (the nuchal translucency). Apparently all babies have a collection of fluid here but babies with Down’s syndrome tend to have more fluid in this area. The fluid measurement, your age, the size of the baby and other details such as your weight, ethnicity and smoking status are then put into a computer program to give the risk of the baby having Down’s syndrome. Sometimes it can be difficult to obtain an accurate measurement of the nuchal translucency due to the position of the baby or because the pregnant lady is overweight.

Blood tests may be done to measure levels of various hormones and proteins in your blood – these hormones and proteins are produced by the placenta or the developing baby. If the baby has Down’s syndrome, the levels of these substances can be affected. Again a computer programme is used to give the risk of the baby having Down’s syndrome, based on the blood test results, your age, the stage in your pregnancy, your weight, ethnicity and smoking status. This blood test is sometimes called serum screening.

During our scan the sonographer managed to measure the nuchal translucency and the result indicated we were low risk. However, we also needed to do the blood test so, following the scan, we walked up to the maternity unit so I could have bloods taken. The choice to undertake this test is very personal to each parent and should be discussed prior to the scan so that you know where you both stand.

I’ve known parents elect not to carry out the screening test and they have been perfectly contented with their decision.  I’ve also known other parents who have chosen not to take the scan but have then spent the latter part of the pregnancy fretting about whether their child may have Down’s syndrome and considering their ability to cope if that happened to be the case. And of course there are other parents like us, who felt that we wanted to know, so at least we could try to prepare ourselves mentally if nothing else.

The scan was excellent. I know there are some who believe that the scans adversely affect the baby, but for us, having already had a number of essential scans with the IVF, we were happy to go with the flow of things. It was actually really exciting and indeed emotional to see a real life baby with a head and arms and legs and organs on the screen. I know that may sound silly because of course we already knew that I was carrying a baby inside me, but it becomes all the more real – we really were having a baby!

However, there was an edge to our scan simply because the sonographer noted that my placenta was lying low. She told me it was highly likely that it would move upwards as the pregnancy progressed but there was something about the way she said it, or perhaps the way I heard it, that made me think that I couldn’t be so sure.

I didn’t know an awful lot about placentas at that point but I made a mental note to find out all I could when I returned home. Other than that the scan seemed fine and we left with the classical scan prints, which don’t really mean an awful lot to anyone else but provide you with a memento all the same!

By the time we attended this scan, I had officially signed up with Anita, my doula, and was on the list to join her pregnancy yoga classes as they were known at the time. I contacted her following my scan and she – like the sonographer – reassured me that it was highly likely that the placenta would move as the uterus expanded and not to worry too much about a low lying placenta. I decided that I would try to forget about it, I am very aware that we attract that to which we give attention, so better not to give it too much attention!

I had already met with a midwife for an initial consultation, in which I relayed my intention to have a home birth. At that time home birthing was only just becoming a more acceptable option so there was some mention of the need to check that the cottage was appropriate and some muttering that if the ward were short staffed then they would expect me to come in to the hospital to birth and access to the birthing pool would be dependant on how busy they were in the delivery rooms.

I was still busily reading any book I could get my hands on about home birth, natural approaches to birth and birthing without fear. I found it all fascinating and with my interest in natural approaches to healing and life generally, let alone the whole law of attraction perspective on things, I was struggling to understand the reason anyone would birth in a hospital or lay themselves at the mercy of unnecessary medical intervention and the whole medicalised and often fearful birthing experience.

Still what I was also beginning to recognise was that the pregnancy world is rife with fear, even I was feeling it in terms of the concern about miscarrying, let alone any of the other anxieties that pregnancy brings. At times it was almost reassuring to feel sick, just to know that I was still pregnant! It’s crazy really as I’m not usually someone who experiences anxiety, so it was a bit of a shock how much this showed up during the pregnancy.

I have to say that those online pregnancy forums don’t help matters and I would strongly encourage others to avoid them as much as they can. Perhaps sometimes they may be helpful, but on the whole I think they just serve to further promote anxiety and prevent you checking in with your own wisdom and trusting in this.

I believe that we already know everything we need to know and as mothers or mothers to be, our intuition is even stronger, certainly in respect of our children be that Earth-side or in utero – I truly believe we know deep down if there’s something wrong or not.

However, I found signing up to babycentre.co.uk was positively insightful as you receive a weekly email explaining the stage of development of the growing foetus based on your estimated due date (see it does have some positives I guess!). I found this helped me to connect more fully with the bean and also helped me to learn a little more about foetal development and the changes experienced by women at various stages of gestation.

I supplemented this with a “week by week” yoga in pregnancy book where the authoress also details the developmental stages but compliments this with yoga poses to support that particular gestation period.

Life continued much as usual over the coming weeks with the sickness finally easing – thank the Goddess of the Moon - and by sixteen weeks it stopped all together. Phew. It was like a switch being switched off, all of a sudden it just went. Furthermore, I started to have more energy and felt like a normal human being again albeit with an expanding waist line – it was such a relief! I think the trouble with morning sickness is you have no idea, especially that first time, when it will ease, and you can’t help feeling a little bit anxious that it may continue the whole of the pregnancy – thankfully not in my case!

Part 11 - Will the morning sickness ever end?

Back home in Guernsey, the tiredness was all consuming. I’ve never known tiredness quite like it; it was all I could do to get through the day.

Prior to the pregnancy I was a night owl and thought nothing of staying up until midnight and beyond. But now I was finding that I absolutely had to be in bed by 9.30pm, it was unheard of and quite a shift for me. I didn’t know how I was going to get everything done, but I had little choice, my body was telling me in no uncertain terms that it absolutely had to rest!

The morning sickness showed no immediate sigh of easing either. I had researched the condition on the internet and had initially been heartened to read that for many morning sickness can peak about week 9, but here we were approaching week twelve and I still felt terrible.

It was incredibly challenging, especially with my heightened sensitivity to smell. I struggled with the smell of the cottage despite cleaning everywhere, even behind and under all the furniture, but still the smell persisted! I also developed an aversion to my usual loved aromatherapy oil scented candle, even the slightest whiff of it was enough to make me feel sick. 

As for the fridge, well I developed an absolute aversion to this too, so that it was challenging having to get something from it - crazy isn’t it, imagine feeling sick every time you go to your fridge. Needless to say cooking was also a trial of sorts, to the extent that I stopped doing it and E lived for a while on anything that was easy to just put in the oven.

Fortunately, my Mum made him lots of meals so it wasn’t like he suffered nutritionally – in fact he probably benefitted as she is a much better cook than me. The worst thing was being in the office because at that point no one knew I was pregnant and the smell of my colleague’s lunch was often stomach churning. It didn’t help I was sitting at a desk near to the kitchen.

As for my lunch, all I wanted to eat was cheese and tomato baguettes and Dorito crisps.  I know I keep saying it but it truly was the strangest thing because I would absolutely never usually eat anything like this and had to ignore the fact I was consuming all these E numbers and additives and just surrender to my body’s rather strange cravings, let alone all that unhealthy fat.

I appreciated that women often put on weight when pregnant, you’re growing a baby after all.  But I didn’t want to use that as an excuse to “stuff my face” as others had told me they did.  Not only did I feel this was unnecessary but I wanted to stay fit and healthy in preparation for the birth and for life with a baby. So I was challenged a little by all these cravings for junk food, but had to just go with the flow of it for now.

The most disconcerting thing was not knowing how long this was all going to go on.  The online pregnancy forums were full of terrible tales of sickness the whole pregnancy and I knew this had been the case for friends locally.  I couldn’t even consider this. I’ve no idea how those women coped and I have every respect. The thought of this sent me into a minor panic and I took comfort in the fact my Mum had not suffered sickness throughout the whole of her pregnancies.

The only saving grace was the fact I wasn’t actually vomiting and there was some respite from the sickness in the late afternoon and evening.  However, I found that yoga teaching was probably the only time I felt truly ok, simply because I’d be focused on the students and therefore completely unaware of my own discomfort.  Plus, I had no choice but to just get on with it.

Still, the Thursday morning classes those next few weeks were tough. I felt really sick and absolutely had to eat something before teaching and yet this was a challenge simply because I had conditioned myself never to eat before yoga; it’s not something you’re encouraged to do as it can lead to digestive issues.  Pregnancy was truly testing me in terms of the rules and limitations I had created in my mind around food and yoga.

One of my students said she knew that I was pregnant simply because of the way I looked, all pasty, pale and yucky – I guess you come to recognise this when you’ve been through it yourself a few times.  I know I didn’t look my best and my body was certainly changing shape and that in itself was challenging because I didn’t want people knowing that my bigger boobs and increasing waistline were signs of pregnancy.

Still the 12-week threshold when we could finally announce the pregnancy was soon approaching and with that an appointment with the midwife and the 12-week scan. I was aware that the natural approach to pregnancy forgoes the scans, but with the recent miscarriage scare, I felt I needed the comfort of seeing the growing foetus on the screen.  It was all very exciting, and as grateful as I was, I really hoped the sickness would ease soon…

Part 10 - Miscarrying?

Almost eleven weeks pregnant and our departure from Thailand was memorable simply because the morning sickness was at what I hoped would be its peak. We spent our last night staying at a rather lovely hotel in Chiang Mai itself, and in the morning we joined the main dining room for breakfast.  E loves breakfast and was incredibly excited about the extensive choice from Eastern food to the continental buffet style that we are used to back home, but it was all I could do not to throw up upon arrival. 

The smell of the Eastern food was just too much for me and I sat at our table desperately trying to chew small bites of plain toast without vomiting. I knew that without food in my stomach I was likely to feel worse during the rest of the morning but it was an effort.  It sounds crazy to anyone who has never gone through it themselves, this concept of eating something to ease the feeling of sickness, but for me it made a huge difference.

The flight back to the UK was equally challenging as the smell of the aeroplane food exasperated the feeling of nausea.  Strangely, fruity Mentos sweets seemed to help. E was surprised, he’d never seen me eat a sweet and here I was obsessed with them! It did seem like the strangest craving, all that sugar and artificial flavourings, but it made a huge difference.

Back in the UK we spent a night staying at a hotel near Heathrow airport. Jet lag and morning sickness do not combine well and that next morning I felt rotten. It didn’t help that we had to travel into central London to catch a train across the country to Manchester airport. Here we had pre-booked a hire car so that we could drive to a wedding that Saturday in St Martin’s, a few hour’s drive South.

It was Friday lunchtime by the time we got to the central London train station. The sun was shining brightly and there was a jovial-end-of-the-working-week atmosphere in the air as people milled about eating their lunch.  I left E sitting in the sun while I spent a good thirty minutes walking from one sandwich shop to another and back again, studying the sandwiches in some depth to determine which one may make me feel better.

I wasn’t used to buying myself a sandwich to eat as I don’t usually eat bread, and here I was salivating at the mere sight of them.  As a non-dairy eating vegetarian, I was particularly humoured by the fact I was repeatedly attracted to both roast beef sandwiches and cheese and pickle sandwiches. It was the strangest thing because my head was saying “absolutely no!” and yet my body was crying out, “yes, yes, yes!”.

It made me realise how much I was still listening to my head when it came to choosing food and not to my body, and therefore how much my old eating disorder was still having an influence on my present day food choices.  It seemed that pregnancy was well and truly throwing me out of my comfort zone as it was making me question my usual habitual way of eating and that was, at times, challenging. 

Needless to say E was wondering where I was and couldn’t believe it had taken me so long to buy a couple of sandwiches. The cheese and pickle sandwich won out in the end, together with a packet of crisps and a sugary sparkling lemon drink.  I kept thinking to myself, “this is ridiculous, here I am growing new life inside me, I should really be eating a super healthy diet but actually all I want to eat is unhealthy stuff instead”.

Cheese sandwich or not I felt desperately sick much of the train journey. I had bought myself one of those awful celebrity magazines at the train station that provide meaningless distraction when travelling.  This particular magazine contained an article about miscarriage, which I found slightly unnerving and which for some strange reason kept drawing my attention. Little did I realise how poignant this would become the next morning.

It was a relief to make it to the hotel later that early evening and crawl into bed to sleep. Ordinarily I love travelling but I was finding it hard work while pregnant.  It was hardly surprising; your body is going through such a lot of change that first trimester. Not only did I feel sick but my breasts were growing and my waist had thickened so that I was beginning to feel uncomfortable in my usual clothing. I was also looking pale and washed out despite the suntan.

The next morning, I awoke feeling decidedly out of sorts.  I joined E for breakfast in the small hotel dining room and attempted to eat some toast while he tucked into a hot breakfast. It was then that I started experiencing stomach cramps that had me holding my lower tummy. I was hoping it was just trapped wind but something didn’t feel right and I started channelling Reiki onto my lower tummy in the hope that the combination of this and the toast and tea may ease things.

But alas not and back in our room I went to the toilet only to find that I was discharging brown blood.  Panic quickly took hold. I immediately imagined the worst and was overcome with that horrible stomach-churning empty feeling as I started shaking uncontrollably. Everything became very real and very present-moment, like time stood still. I couldn’t believe I was discharging brown blood and I cried out to E in the bedroom before bursting into tears.

I didn’t know what to do.  I was desperately trying to feel the energy of the foetus inside me but I was too panicky to know what I was feeling. I reached for my laptop and googled “brown blood 11 weeks pregnant”. This probably wasn’t the best idea as I came across a whole host of pregnancy forums where women shared their experiences of miscarriage. Fear kicked in. That’s the trouble with these sites, they’re very fear-driven.

I couldn’t quite believe I might by miscarrying. It seemed too cruel.  Having beaten the odds to get pregnant through IVF, to then miscarry was desperately unfair. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that this may happen, I was taking the progesterone pessaries to support the pregnancy and just figured that would help to prevent miscarriage.  

I used my pendulum to try and dowse for the energy of the foetus.  Ordinarily using a pendulum helps me to check in with my intuition but I was feeling so anxious and desperate that I couldn’t determine my truth. There was a part of me that was hopeful that because the blood was brown and not bright red that all would be well.  But I was cramping and the discharge was noticeable so I couldn’t ignore that something was happening, even if I didn’t yet know exactly what it was.

We were due to collect E’s best friend from the train station later that morning and I decided that I would go with him as I didn’t want to be left on my own. I lay still on the bed, channelling Reiki onto my tummy until we had to leave. The discharge had eased a little by then but I was still getting cramps and I just felt that I needed to get it checked out.  So after collecting E’s friend we headed to the local A&E department.

It was only a small department and they weren’t able to offer me a scan to check for the foetal heartbeat until the Monday by which time we would be back home in Guernsey.  The doctor was very kind but did little to ease my concerns. My symptoms were suggesting a miscarriage and he said that there was little they could do for me and I was advised to go home and rest.

There was something that didn’t feel right about this. Waiting in the hospital environment had given me the opportunity to calm myself with my breath and drop out of panic mode. I kept trying to feel the energy of the foetus inside me and now that now that my mind was calmer, I began to sense something again.  I had a feeling I was still pregnant, but couldn’t be sure whether I may later miscarry. It was a whole new world to me.

E and I discussed whether I should stay at the hotel but I decided to join the wedding as I needed a distraction. It was a tough day though and while the wedding was lovely, a small intimate affair, I found it difficult to concentrate and engage in any meaningful conversation. My mind was distracted by the sensations I was feeling in my body and I couldn’t stop trying to feel the energy of the foetus and channel Reiki into it.

The worst bit was the vaginal discharge. As soon as I felt some change in sensation down below, I was immediately desperate to know if it meant I was bleeding.  I spent a lot of the day visiting the toilet, but it was with utter dread that I did so, praying as I pulled down my pants that I wouldn’t see blood.  I can still remember that sickening feeling that accompanied any toilet visit; little did I know that this would set the scene for the rest of the pregnancy.

By the afternoon I was heartened to find that I was feeling decidedly sick again. Never have I been so delighted to experience morning sickness!  Once again I was going through a U-turn on my perception of things. Conception and now pregnancy was throwing everything on its head.  If I was still pregnant then I would welcome all sickness from now on.  It was a sign of an ongoing pregnancy and that is something I wanted to celebrate.

Back home in Guernsey the specialist confirmed that I hadn’t miscarried. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was but surmised that it may have been the passing of the embryo sack from the embryo that hadn’t made it. It was a huge wake up call to take things a little easier and slow my life down, to appreciate the new life growing inside of me.  But this is easier said than done and the Universe nudged me time and time again…

The IVF Journey Part 9 - Morning Sickness in Thailand, Doulas and Independent Midwives

Long haul travelling during the first trimester when you are already feeling quite yucky is certainly no fun. I was 8 weeks pregnant and feeling decidedly nauseous and ever so tired at this stage.

I loved the idea of resting for twelve hours in an aeroplane seat but in reality even this was exhausting. It was challenging too simply because of the terrible aeroplane smells and the fact I couldn’t elevate my ankles. E was going through his own challenges; his back was still playing up so sitting in an air-seat for that length of time was certainly not easy for him either.

At Bangkok we had to transfer up to Chiang Mai. We’d both just settled into the seats of the smaller internal plane when E started panicking that he couldn’t find his wallet in his bag.  He’d taken it out of his pocket only minutes earlier to put through the scanner at security before we got on the plane.   He called the airhostess over and before I knew it he was leaving the plane and arranging to join me in Chiang Mai on the next flight.

Without really thinking, I quickly handed him my wallet with all my cards in it in case anything happened to him and sent him off on his way, thinking to myself how crazy that here I was now travelling up to Chiang Mai on my own, pregnant, and with no wallet.  One does silly things in the heat of the moment!

At Chiang Mai airport I was met by the driver who would be taking E and I to the house where we would later be joined by my folks and my brother and his family.  I’m not sure the driver was that delighted to hear that we now had to sit around the airport waiting for E’s plane, which was due to land within the next 2 hours, but alas there wasn’t much we could do about it. 

By then I was feeling surprisingly ok, it was like the jet lag has somehow managed to shift the sickness I had previously been feeling.  It was incredibly humid and I sat trying to read my book and feeling thankful that at least I had a bottle of water to drink because I had no money to actually buy anything – this is a really horrible feeling that makes me feel very vulnerable.

After 20 minutes or so I had cause to rummage in my bag and lo and behold there was E’s wallet.  Arghh!  My phone wasn’t working at that point so I wasn’t able to call him and let him know and I hoped that he’d still gotten on the next plane and wasn’t trawling Bangkok airport for his supposed lost wallet!

Fortunately, he arrived on the next flight from Bangkok and we both laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation.  It turned out that the kind staff at Bangkok airport had replayed the security camera footage showing E putting his wallet through the security belt so they’d been able to see that he’d popped it into my bag at the end of the belt. Crazy man with his short term memory and me completely unaware of the fact he had put his wallet into my bag, which doesn’t bode well does it, at least for personal security!

In any event all was resolved and sorted, and we were then driven the hour or so up into the hills to the house we had rented for the next 2 weeks.  The house was situated in a marvellous spot in the middle of nowhere really and had its own staff, which was pure luxury for me as it meant someone else was cooking.  However, what I hadn’t factored in was the fact that we would be eating Thai food at every meal, and that no one had thought to tell the staff that I was essentially a vegetarian so the meat dishes upon arrival were a touch challenging!

Those first twenty-four hours were relatively easy going for me.  There was a welcome outdoor swimming pool where we could all cool off from the intense humidity, and the rooms had aircon (when they were working) while the house itself was relatively cool if you did need to escape from the sun. I was beginning to think that perhaps the morning sickness had eased but after that initial twenty-four-hour period, I was left with no doubt that the morning sickness was still very much still there.

Morning sickness sucks!  Yes, I know, I should have been very grateful for the fact that I was even experiencing morning sickness because that meant I’m pregnant. And I was grateful, truly I was, and I’m quite sure that when I was having trouble conceiving, I got sick of hearing other pregnant ladies moan about their sickness and about their indigestion and tiredness and all the other stuff that pregnancy entails.

But the truth is, morning sickness is the most debilitating thing I have ever experienced.  And to be honest unless you’ve gone through it, I don’t think you can ever quite understand how absolutely awful a feeling it is. For a start, the term “morning sickness” is utterly ridiculously.  Whoever thought this one up was clearly someone who has never experienced it because yes, while I did indeed feel sick in the morning, I was also feeling sick throughout the rest of the day too.

I’m not usually one for eating breakfast but in Thailand I just absolutely had to have something inside my tummy and fruit just wouldn’t do the job.  Ordinarily I give bread a wide berth as it doesn’t agree with me, but this was probably the only thing that made me feel even slightly better – tea and a piece of toast with jam and butter, two other ingredients that never usually pass my lips – and I admit to feeling guilty about this.

It’s crazy really this whole guilt thing and I know that I’m not alone in feeling it. I’m a keen fan of good nutrition and I’ve done a lot of work on myself with this in terms of discovering what works best for me in how it makes me feel – we are what we eat after all. So the fact my cravings were challenging that was actually challenging me too. While it may seem like no big deal to many, the fact I was eating bread was a big deal and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being unhealthy somehow.

It got worse though because about an hour after breakfast, lying by the pool, I would start feeling incredibly sick and absolutely the only thing that seemed to ease his feeling was drinking a very cold can of sparkling lemon pop which no doubt contained vast quantities of sugar, let alone all the other stuff that gets added to soft drinks.  I just couldn’t believe that a drink like this could possibly make me feel better, but amazingly it did – and this was before 10 in the morning, yikes what was going on with my body!

Now ordinarily, up until that point, I had always loved Thai food.  But lying out by the pool those first few mornings, the smell of the Thai food being prepared for lunch was enough to turn my stomach and make me feel wretched. Let alone then sitting at the dinner table and being offered a full cooked Thai meal.  In fairness even E and my folks were challenged by two Thai meals a day and it was with some relief that we agreed to prepare our own lunch and just eat one main Thai meal in the evening. 

All I really wanted to eat was bread with goat’s cheese and tomatoes.  Fortunately, the Western supermarket that we found in Chiang Mai provided all of these ingredients, so we stocked up and that pretty much kept me going at lunchtime. In the afternoon I’d get a full on fruit craving, the sweeter the better.  I recall E and I being in Chiang Mai one afternoon when it was particularly hot and all I wanted were smoothies with as much ice as possible, the colder the better, but they never seemed to be cold enough.

Late afternoon and I would experience a lull in sickness, which was a welcome relief and I would look forward to aperitif time, not for the wine, I certainly couldn’t stomach that, but for the salted nuts and crisps that were on offer.  Now all I wanted to eat was salt, washed down with ice cold sparkling water. The water I may have drunk previously but the salted nuts and crisps were always a big no, no on my list, but now I couldn’t get enough of them!

And then dinner time would come and my stomach would turn once again. I don’t know what it was but the smell of Thai food just made me feel sick.  It didn’t help that my brother’s partner developed a love of textured soya protein, so we ended up having various kinds of it as the base (if not the only constituent part) of our vegetarian meals throughout our stay, and I just absolutely could not stand it.  Even now the thought of it makes me feel sick.  Thankfully I was able to eat rice and that was really the main staple for me at those meals.

Still nausea and food aside it was a great trip. I was incredibly tired during much of it but of course I could indulge in lying by the pool and chilling out without having anyone else to think about but myself. I even managed to enjoy a few massages and I got to attend a few yoga classes in Chiang Mai, which always eased my sickness. I also joined E and the folks on a walk through a National Park, although sadly I had to give the zip wire/tree walking a miss as it wasn’t suitable for pregnant ladies.

It was whilst I was in Thailand that I started reading up on birth. A few years earlier I had trained as a pregnancy yoga teacher with a lovely lady who lived in Surrey and who was very passionate about home and vaginal delivery.  She had certainly inspired me with her tales and had directed me to a few books which she highly recommended on the subject.  One of these was called “Birthing from Within” by Pam England, which I had read previously in terms of educating myself to be able to assist my students and I had lent the book to a number of them who found it very inspiring.  Now here I was reading it for myself and I too was inspired.

I had been given another book called “Gentle Birth, Gentle Mothering” by Sarah Buckley, which was also interesting, especially in terms of the various scans and tests, which are carried out during pregnancy, and she also advocated a natural approach to delivery.  My brother’s partner is also a pregnancy yoga teacher and helps to facilitate pregnancy training courses. She is also very passionate about home birthing, having birthed my niece at home with an independent midwife and doula present, so she was keen to educate me on this too.

I was aware that I was now entering a whole new world and that there was a lot yet to learn. While I had the time, I emailed our local doula, Anita, back in Guernsey to share news of my pregnancy and to enquire into her availability for the birth and to find out more about access to independent midwives in Guernsey. Little did I know how much she would inspire me and how passionate I would become about birth.

The word doula comes from the ancient Greek meaning “a woman who serves” and is now used to refer to a woman experienced in childbirth who guides women and their partners through the process of preparing for birth, supporting them during labour and the birth, and subsequent bonding with the new-born. A birth doula recognises birth as a key experience that the mother will remember all her life.

She understands the physiology of birth and the emotional needs of a woman in labour, and assists the woman in preparing for and carrying out her plans for birth. She stays with the woman throughout her labour (if this is her choice), providing emotional support, physical comfort measures and an objective viewpoint, as well as helping the woman obtain the information she needs to make informed decisions.

She also facilitates communication between the labouring woman, her partner and her clinical care providers. She perceives her role as nurturing and protecting the woman’s memory of the birth experience and allows the woman’s partner to participate at his/her comfort level. Studies have shown that when doulas attend birth, labours are shorter with fewer complications, babies are healthier and they breastfeed more easily

She can also offer her services postpartum so that she provides companionship and non-judgmental support during the fourth trimester.  Here she can provide evidence-based information on emotional and physical recovery from birth, infant feeding, infant soothing and coping skills for new parents, as well as making appropriate referrals when necessary.  In short she is an angel and I was keen to have as many angels as I could in my life.

An independent midwife is also an angel but just in a different capacity. She is someone who has chosen to work outside the hospital service in a self-employed capacity to provide pregnancy care. The legal role of a midwife encompasses the care of women and babies during pregnancy, birth (and home birth) as well as the early weeks of motherhood. Usually one private midwife gives care to a woman and her family throughout a pregnancy.

Thus, having established a trusting relationship, the same independent midwife cares for the woman as she births her baby and supports the family afterwards. Research has shown that many women want this type of midwifery and pregnancy care, which they do not always receive from their local health care provider, and that it helps women to cope with the challenges of labour and the transition to parenthood.

The vast majority of births attended by independent midwives are home births, but they can also be present at planned hospital births too. Independent midwives have more freedom to practice individualised care compared to those working within the hospital environment, who may be restricted by guidelines and protocols.

Independent midwives are still regulated by the Nursing and Midwifery Council and they’re subject to the same supervision as those midwives working in hospitals. They’re required to keep up to date with their practice and are only allowed to act within their sphere of competence as midwives.

For me as the conception had been so medicalised, I was keen to ensure that the birth was as natural as possible. I wanted to avoid any intervention, especially as I was aware that intervention can lead to more intervention and to a potentially medicalised birthing experience. I was very aware how over time birth has become a medicalised experience and as a result of this, the emphasis has shifted from the mother to the baby, so that the mother was – and in many cases continues to be – overlooked in the whole birthing experience.

As Dr Christiane Northrup writes, “Labour and delivery often go well. Yet as a society we continue to treat the normal process of birth with hysteria. High anxiety about pregnancy and birth is partly the result of our collective unresolved birth trauma – nearly every one of us has unfinished business about her or his own birth that we keep projecting on to pregnant women. Most baby boomers, after all, were born drugged and were whisked away from their mothers to the glaring lights and sterility of the hospital nursery. The Second World War generation was born at home. Then birth became medicalised and moved into the hospital. Though the mortality rate fell we lost a great deal of birthing wisdom with this shift.

I have seen cemeteries strewn with the headstones of women who died young, surrounded by the graves of their dead children. Most of these deaths and traumas resulted from poor nutrition, overwork and lack of maternal support, not necessarily from lack of sophisticated medical intervention”.

The trouble is, these days, birth often involves some form of intervention, which in many cases is probably unnecessary but sadly part of what’s accepted as normal.  For example, studies show that most of the women in the UK will have experienced at least one of the following routine medical interventions:

·      Caesarean section

·      Induction

·      Artificial rupture of membranes

·      Continuous electronic foetal monitoring

·      Epidural anaesthesia, episiotomy and recumbent birthing position.

The more I read the more I began to discover that childbirth has become an increasingly medicalised phenomenon whereby the majority of women no longer experience or have knowledge of what it is to give birth to their baby without interference. It would seem that almost all women who give birth in hospital are subjected to a cascade of medical and technological interventions throughout pregnancy and birth.

I researched a little further and discovered that since 1985, the international healthcare community has considered the ideal rate for Caesarean sections to be between 10-15% (see World Health Organisation). However, statistics collated by the NHS for 2013-14 showed that the Caesarean rate was nearer to 26.2%.

I also discovered that when medically necessary, a Caesarean section can effectively prevent maternal and new-born mortality but two new studies show that when Caesarean section rates rise towards 10% across a population, the number of maternal and new-born deaths decreases. However, when the rate goes above 10%, there is no evidence that mortality rates improve.

As Dr Christiane Northrup further writes, “The medical system participates fully in treating childbirth as an emergency needing a cure. Because of its addictive, patriarchal nature, the medical system becomes the symbolic ‘husband’ for all women crying, “Jerry, do something!” And believe me, doctors are trained in many ways to ‘do something’. Each of our doings has a price.

Some studies show, for instance, that epidural anaesthesia increase the rate of Caesarean section because this anaesthesia relaxes the pelvic floor muscles, causing the baby to engage with the head in what’s called the occiput posterior position – facing up. It’s much harder to push a baby out when she is in this position; it also slows down the process and may add to the baby’s distress. Epidurals are also a metaphor for current mind/body split approach to childbirth: ‘I want to be awake and intellectually aware, but I don’t want to feel my body”.

I researched further and found that NHS statistics for the period 2013-14 also show a continuing upward trend in induction rates, increasing by 1.7% during that year to 25%. The World Health Organisation recommends induction of labour should only be performed when there’s a clear medical indication for it and the expected benefits outweigh its potential harms.

In applying the recommendations, the World Health Organisation says that consideration must be given to the actual condition, wishes and preferences of each woman, with emphasis being placed on cervical status, the specific method of induction of labour and associated conditions such as parity and rupture of membranes. They recommend that induction of labour should only be performed with caution since the procedure carries the risk of uterine hyper-stimulation and rupture and foetal distress.

And yet it seems that induction has become common place.  I’ve lost count of the number of times I hear of women being induced and being deprived of the opportunity to connect with their body wisdom and allow their body to do what it needs to do naturally.  They are continuously monitored and in effect strapped to a bed so that they cannot move nor can they allow their bodies the opportunity to find the optimal position for birth.

Before they know it they have agreed to an epidural and then can’t feel what their body is doing, they are full of fear and the baby senses this and the medical staff are concerned about the signs of foetal distress. Hands then begin probing to check for thinning/contracting of cervix and electrodes are placed on the baby’s head.

Is it any surprise that the baby gets distressed? It’s been happy in there for 40 weeks (or whatever the term is) of its growing life safely protected by Mum and now here it is being probed before it has even entered the world. Plus of course it can sense poor Mum’s fear and the stress which accompanies this.

Thus it follows that the mother is no longer capable of birthing her baby and she is wheeled down to theatre to have her baby extracted, born into the bright lights and sterility of such an environment in front of strangers who know nothing or her and nor her of them.  Welcome to the world baby, what a way to begin!

By this stage, as the mother you’re just delighted and relieved, your baby’s arrived safely and everyone keeps telling you this. You try to put aside any concerns that there’s something wrong with your body which means that it cannot birth naturally and try not to reflect on how different things could be…the baby’s safe that’s all that matters…

But here’s the thing, of course it goes without saying that you want to birth a healthy baby, but at some point the care shifted from it being also about the Mum to just being about the baby and that’s unfortunate really. The medical model of childbirth assumes that the female body is always ready to fail.

Childbirth is now seen as a highly risky business. The majority of women who give birth in hospital do so because they assume that a hospital birth is safest. However, all the research evidence that exists demonstrates that, for a healthy woman with a normal pregnancy, a planned home birth is as safe as a hospital birth (BirthChoiceUK, 2005). In spite of this research evidence, not everybody agrees, and many health care professionals insist on claiming that a medicalised hospital birth is still the safest option.

Reactions to the medicalisation of birth have been various. For some women, the technology and surveillance that is brought to bear on the birthing body is welcomed as a comforting presence to help ensure that the baby remains safe and well.

Whilst it is essential that this is recognised, one has to question the underlying reason for the practice, in terms of litigation and making life easier for medical staff. For example, a reason women are encouraged to birth on their backs, even though this makes no sense physiologically and will only serve to make the whole process much more challenging and much more painful, is because it makes it easier for medical staff to see what’s going on.

As Dr Christiane Northrup writes, “During my training, when foetal monitoring came in and the Caesarean section rate began to soar, I remember thinking, “How can it be that 25% of women aren’t able to go through a normal physiological event without the aid of anaesthesia and major surgery? How could the human race have possibly survived if this many women really need major surgery to give birth. What is going wrong here?

I was taught that I must treat everyone as though she was going to have a potential complication, as if normal labour could turn into crisis at a moment’s notice. Whenever a woman arrived in labour, we immediately put in an intravenous drip, took blood, ruptured her membranes – broke the amniotic sac (‘bag of waters’) surrounding the baby – screwed a foetal scalp electrode into the baby’s head and threaded a catheter into the mother’s uterus to measure intra-uterine pressure on the foetal monitor. Then she and her family, the doctors and the nurses all fixed their gazes on the monitor and pretty much relied on it to tell us what to do next. The women was asked to labour in a position that gave the best monitor tracing – not the one that felt best to her…

…later, studies would show that foetal monitoring did not actually improve perinatal outcome when compared with a nurse listening to the heart rate periodically. What it did do was increase Caesarean section rates – a great example of technology ‘catching on’ before all the data were in. Monitoring has its place – I’m not against it. It simply is not a substitute for caring, human interaction, though it is often used as one….

 Unfortunately, the beliefs that support hospital procedures are often so pervasive that even those women who enter hospital wanting natural childbirth often end up with some kind of intervention. This is because a woman in labour is highly vulnerable. If she is not supported in her labour process by people who truly trust labour and see it as normal, she can be talked in to just about anything”.

Taking this all into consideration, it wasn’t perhaps surprising that that I was keen to do all I could to promote a straightforward homebirth with people around me who supported me and believed in the wisdom and power of my body. I imagined birthing at home in the peace and quiet of my own spiritual space, providing me with the opportunity to truly tap into my body’s innate wisdom and trust in that.

I felt that to have the chance of achieving this I would benefit from employing the services of an independent and intuitive midwife with whom I could establish a close and indeed trusting relationship and a doula who would be able to attend to my needs before, during and after birth. Anita was my chosen doula and she was delighted to take on that role.

Unfortunately, we don’t have an independent midwife living on Guernsey so I knew that I would need to engage the services of an independent midwife from England. Anita kindly put me in contact with an independent midwife who certainly sounded ideal but I quickly realised that it was going to cost us a lot of money, not least in terms of her fee for the delivery itself (quite understandable incidentally) but in terms of the fact we would need to establish a relationship which would mean paying for flights backwards and forwards between the UK and Guernsey. 

Furthermore, the independent midwife would need to be on the Island well in advance of the due date and we would need to provide her with accommodation during this period at our expense. I discussed the matter with E but he was not keen.  I must admit the thought of having someone in our space for the weeks leading up to the birth didn’t resonate with me as I am very precious about my need for space and especially at home.

Furthermore, we didn’t feel that we could justify the expense of the independent midwife.  My mind however was absolutely set on Anita as my doula and while E was a little resistant due to the fact he wasn’t sure of the role he would play, I was keen to make sure I was booked up and could be assured of her presence on D-day!! So that was that decided while we were away!