This Motherhood Malarkey!

Wow, it's hard to believe that my youngest, Eben, turned one today.  That was some year and some introduction to son number two with him arriving six weeks early, my water's breaking on the super full moon half way through a yoga retreat I was running in Herm...

...a year on and my poor little man was sick on the October Herm retreat, which brought with it its challenges.  I was a little bit sick too, a combination of pre-school bugs, sleep deprivation and Reiki healing.

All in all this set things up for a fairly rocky road this last week with the new moon energy building and definitely encouraging a huge letting go, bringing us to our knees...or in my case onto my back on the road at Petit Bot, in despair, tears flowing, feeling deserted by my guardian angels and all the strength and support of the Universe.  My lying on my back was me trying to ground. And because I was just too tired to keep going a moment longer.

I thought I'd got it out my system but back at home, and preparing for the first birthday party I had a message to call the bank.  There followed a frustrating 40 minute experience, which found me crying, yes crying, on the phone to the second person I spoke to when I failed the security test and he told me I'd need to phone back.  "but do you not realise I have a birthday cake to make and a party to run in 20 minutes", I sobbed in despair.  "Madam, I'm very sorry but you will need to telephone again, you've failed security".

So I telephoned again, trying to compose myself and lo and behold it turns out I was talking to the business people and needed to be speaking to the personal client people, so it's not surprising I failed the test, and so more waiting, me in tears, my Mum arrived and gave me a much needed hug, stress levels going into overdrive and finally I spoke to the fourth person and issue resolved.  

So suffice it to say that today I conclude that this this motherhood malarkey is exhausting. It's not just the sleep deprivation but the endless concern and, hmmm, dare I say worry.  Yes I know I know, I'm a Reiki teacher and practitioner and one of the Reiki principles is "for today, do not worry", because as we all know worrying just wastes energy and changes nothing...other than your stress levels and facial lines. But it's difficult not to worry sometimes.

This week Elijah's been testing because Eben's been ill with an ear infection was it happens.  So this meant he had to have antibiotics, which go against everything I stand up against...I've spent a year trying to heal his gut from the antibiotics he was prescribed at birth and now here a year on, another dose, and all because we're flying tomorrow and we couldn't risk the infection getting worse.  As it was he was hitting his head and rubbing his ears and vomiting with the coughing.

Then because Eben's been poorly and clinging to my waist or my breasts, well suckling from my breasts, but you know what I mean, Elijah's been even more challenging than usual because he wants attention.  He also loathes preschool, or at least he loathes the idea of it so that's got me thinking...and pondering...because another thing I'm passionate about is education, and not education like we currently know it, at least not here in the UK.

And then of course the packing for India.  Okay the list could go on.  I feel much calmer now. Birthday party went well, cake was eaten, a walk in nature, children fed and bathed and into bed, a lovely relaxing lavender bath and then a quiet and gentle yoga practice in silence, with the patchouli oil burning and the calming sodalite bracelet on my wrist.  It's good to be reminded of our humanness sometimes...there's another day tomorrow and let's face it, "all is well". x

Part 29 - The Light of Surrender

Our lives were filled with light that Thursday morning; as if the surrendering brought with it a rush of support from the Universe.

There were Earth angels everywhere as I was assigned the most beautifully funny and reassuring midwife who was the embodiment of compassion and understanding.  She was supported by another midwife who happens to be the best friend of my cousin-in-law.  It was perfect.  Ladies who cared and who were in part familiar to me.

My parents kindly rushed around collecting some things for me from the cottage and dropping them into the ward as we hadn’t brought anything with us that morning.  While I was deemed an emergency, we had time, and all I asked was the opportunity to take a shower, which was granted.

I enjoyed standing bent over in the shower cubicle, the water washing over my back and cleansing me. I needed to feel clean ahead of the surgery.  It also gave me time and the space to be on my own too, processing events and coming to terms with my present reality.

The contracting had eased at this point, and I was feeling decidedly calm about everything. After some time, I dried myself and sat quietly, holding my precious lump of rose quartz, dropping awareness within and noticing how it felt; was there any residual fear and could I let go of this? I then sat with my breath until I felt aligned and centred.  I checked my pendulum, yes, now I was ready.

While I was showering, E was shown around the Neo-Natal Intensive Care Unit (“NICU”) for babies, which I’d been shown around when I’d been in hospital a few days earlier. I hadn’t been too interested, because back then I hadn’t expected the baby to arrive at 34 weeks.  Even now I wasn’t too fazed, there was mention that the baby may need support in the delivery room, but my sole focus was on the birth.

Back at my bed the final arrangements were put in place. I had asked to keep my placenta and a tub was found for this.  I’d also asked for vaginal seeding to take place although this was refused me – the specialist almost laughed that I’d suggested it in the first place.

One of the reasons I had resisted a Caesarean birth was due to the increased risk of health conditions in childhood as the baby is deprived of the bacteria that live in the mother’s vagina.

One way around this is to collect the mother’s vaginal fluid on a piece of gauze prior to the birth and wipe this gauze over the baby’s mouth, face and body directly after birth.  This will help to kick start the baby’s immune system and gut by exposing the baby to a diverse mix of bacteria.

However, I was told that this would be extremely risky given that I had an infection and the baby was being born so early. I accepted this easily, the baby’s wellbeing was paramount and I had to respect the knowledge and experience of the medical team, even if this went against my own understanding of things. 

By late morning they were ready in theatre for me and I was ready to meet my baby. I walked to theatre this time, which made a huge difference psychologically, as if I was giving my full consent to the process and not being pushed in a bed as had happened previously.

Arriving at the theatre it was still a relatively alien environment to me, although this time I had none of the fear that had gripped me previously. The theatre nurse assigned to me was another Earth angel who did all he could to care for me.

I knew with certainty that the Universe had my back and that I was being truly supported. I also had my mantra running constantly thought my mind, “love not fear” and it was this that I repeated to myself as the spinal block was applied.

It was actually a relief to be anaesthetised because the contractions had started up again and it was a challenge to stay present to these and do what was asked of me in terms of my positioning on the bed.  The theatre nurses were very kind and I held one of their hands as I focused in on my breath. 

The spinal block soon took effect and we went through the usual checks.  I had made the anaesthetist aware of the issues I had experienced with Elijah’s birth and she was another angel who kept talking to me and making sure that I felt ok. Before I knew it E was beside me wearing his blue theatre attire.

It all seemed to happen very quickly after then and we held hands as our son was born at 12.21pm on Thursday 20 October 2016 with E watching on. Here he was safely Earthside, our little grounded warrior, Eben Ron McInnes, whose name had chosen itself months earlier.

We liked the name when we were looking at names for Elijah and we just had a sense that if we had another boy he would be called Eben. The name is Hebrew and means “stone of help” and this felt rather appropriate to me because in utero he felt grounded.  Furthermore, I had this sense that this was a healing baby and would help in the world as he was now helping me.

As we had named Elijah after E’s Dad, Iain, we had agreed that if we had a boy, he would name him after my Dad, Ron. The name comes from Old Norse and means “warrior”, and he seemed to be living up to this name already.

Eben weighed 5lb 1oz, which was a brilliant weight for a baby born six weeks premature, but he needed oxygen upon delivery and while I got a glance of him, he was immediately whisked away to the Neo Natal Intensive Care Unit, while I was stitched up again.

I was jubilant, we had another son, a gift from above.  And his birth too was a gift, for I had been given the opportunity to embody surrender. This was all I had ever wanted to experience; the surrender that accompanies the birthing process.  I too, felt re-birthed.

There was nothing to fight against. There was just this incredible sense of peace and calmness. The Universe had our back. We were bathed in love and with that came the realisation that that’s all there is.  We are all heart, just like our babies had shown at their 6 week’s scan. There is nothing to fear and nowhere else to be but in the moment.

We were in the flow and that meant constantly surrendering to the present, whatever it may give. And I was grateful for this realisation over the coming week ahead.

Part 28 - Dancing with the Moon

I started contracting during the facial treatment.  I didn’t realise what it was at the time, I just thought it was some cramping.  The sensation increased during the evening to the point that I found it difficult to sleep.

I was jubilant, I was finally contracting!  I had longed to experience this sensation, ever since it was denied to me with the planned delivery of Elijah three years earlier.  This time around, I had wanted the baby to choose it’s birthing date, and here it was, making that choice.

I loved every moment of that evening; it was one of the most intimate experiences of my life. I shall always treasure the insight it provided, of my breath, of sensation, and of the opportunity to be joyfully present.  Pain brings this gift to us, and here I was able to rejoice with it.

I spent some time on the sofa, dipping in and out of Facebook, aware of the time changing because the new day brought with it new birthdays.  I shall never forget that, because I felt so pleased with myself being one of the first people to congratulate a friend on her birthday.

When I had tired of that and the sensation demanded otherwise, I wrapped myself in a blanket and spent time outside in the darkness of the night with the waning moon and the stars above me.

I squatted on the Earth where Elijah’s tree grows with his placenta nourishing it, and where I’d bled prior to conceiving this new life growing inside me, and felt an incredible oneness with everything. It felt poignant, as if I was stepping into a portal that connected me to the mysteries of this world.

And then the moment came as I always hoped it would, when all I wanted to do was sway my hips and dance.

I danced with the moon shining her light over me as I held my baby within me. Together we danced around the garden and I couldn’t stop smiling because I was on my own and I was having the most amazing time. 

I felt overwhelming love for my baby and for Elijah and E asleep inside, and for the world, and this oneness that goes as quickly as it comes.  I felt truly aligned.

I danced with the moon until I knew it was time to go inside again.

Here I lay in the bath, cleansed by the water, focusing on breath and sensation and on and on it went.

At some point during the early hours I released my mucous plug and while I was aware that if I was in labour I was meant to telephone the ward immediately, I felt that I didn’t need to do that just yet. 

All fear had finally gone and there was this sense that perhaps I could just wing it.  Perhaps I could just stay at home like this and see what happened, see whether I could birth my breech baby all on my own. I still hadn’t given up on that hope. But I was aware that if it was meant to be, it would be, and that the baby would arrive quickly.

However, by 5.30am there was no baby and I began to realise that I had to do something about my situation. E was awake by then and I noticed that the discharge had started to change colour, it wasn’t a clear/pinkish colour anymore, so I knew it was now time to telephone the hospital.

With E awake the sensations felt stronger because I wasn’t able to be in my space with my breath in the same way as I had been on my own.  This was an insight to me, the potential need to be alone during the birthing experience. Not that I had that opportunity because having telephoned the ward they told me to come in immediately.

With Elijah now awake, the three of us stepped out of the house into the darkness of the night, and there up in the sky ahead of us was the waning moon and the sign of a cross in the sky, made from two airline streams.  It felt incredibly auspicious and I knew in my heart of hearts that now was the time, this was a sign, this was really happening.

We dropped Elijah off at E’s Mum and went to the hospital where I discovered that its rather tricky to walk when you’re contracting at the same time!

It’s also rather tricky to lie still and be scanned.  But alas that is what happened and it showed that yes, I was contracting and a decision would soon need to be made about delivery because the specialists didn’t want me going into full blown labour and running the risk of delivering a breech baby.

A swipe was taken to test for an infection and I was allocated a bed on the ward. The specialist felt that one way or another there was a high chance that the baby would be delivered that day.  If the tests showed that I had an infection, then I would need to have the baby delivered that morning.

If I didn’t have an infection there was a chance that now it was light outside the contractions would stop and I would be monitored – the longer the baby was in utero the better for his/her development.

I was still talking about breech delivery because there was still hope.  There was still a chance that the contractions would ease and I would have time.

I was aware that the specialist I had first seen when I was initially pregnant was working the ward that morning and I was adamant that I didn’t want to see him.  He had told me I would be high risk and would likely deliver by Caesarean section and here I was about to do that.

It didn’t seem to matter anymore. By then I’d finished reading the “The Universe has Your Back” and my mantra was ‘love not fear’.  And here I was in hospital very aware that yes, the Universe had my back, and what was meant to be was meant to be.

I had to surrender.

And then came the opportunity.

My lovely female specialist was now on duty and she came to see me with the specialist who we’d seen earlier that morning to tell us that I had an infection.

She took my hand and told me that she knew this wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but there really was no choice now, the baby had to be delivered that morning by Caesarean Section.

I laughed.

I laughed because one way or another I was destined to have a repeat Caesarean Section. The Goddess of the Moon was dancing and now I finally chose to dance with her.

I surrendered.

There was no choice.  There was nothing to fight any longer.  The Universe had my back. Love not fear.

And there it was.  I finally accepted my reality.  There would be no home birth. There would be no spiritual experience in the shower as I attempted to birth my baby all on my own.  There would be none of that.

But what there was, was far more profound in many ways.  Because I was being asked to step beyond the fear and my idea of how things should be, to experience the spiritual in it. This was the lesson that I had needed to learn and this brought with it the spiritual experience and opportunity for growth that I had always dreamt of, just it was presenting itself in a way I had not expected…but that’s the way of the Universe. Our dreams always come true but not as we expect them to, that too is a lesson in surrender and acceptance.

Part 27 - Preterm pre-labour rupture of the membranes

One of the few things I had brought with me to the hospital from Herm was my laptop, so after a few hours of restless sleep, I gave up trying and researched all I could on ‘waters breaking early’ instead. 

The baby lies in an amniotic sac of fluid or ‘waters’ and ‘waters breaking’ means that the sac has ruptured or broken. Waters normally break around the time that labour is due but in around 2% of pregnancies they break early. The medical term for this condition is PPROM, which stands for preterm pre-labour rupture of the membranes and means that the waters have broken before the baby has reached full term (37 weeks).

Intrauterine infection is present in around third of women with PPROM but in most cases it happens without any infection being present. The reasons for these cases is unclear, however it has been linked to heavy smoking during pregnancy.

At that time, I didn’t have any signs of infection and I wasn’t a smoker so it was considered just ‘one of those things’. I couldn’t help thinking however that the Goddess of the Moon had a role to play in all this and certainly that role became clearer in the days ahead.

I had thought that once the waters break, the pregnant lady immediately goes into labour but I discovered that this isn’t the case, contrary to the scene depicted in many a film (the recent Bridget Jones is a classic example of this).

When waters break early, the treatment is dependant on the stage of the pregnancy. There is an increased risk of going into labour prematurely and this brings with it the health risks for the baby of early birth, which are obviously greater the younger they are. There’s also the risk that if the pregnant woman doesn’t go into labour that she and the baby are at risk of infection.

The specialists had to balance these two considerations. If the waters had broken because of infection, then there would be an increased risk of the baby getting the infection and delivery may have to be immediate. 

When the waters have broken but there is no infection present, as in my case, then while both of us were still at risk, the immediate risk is lesser and the treatment depends again on the stage of pregnancy.

It was agreed that I would remain in hospital for the initial 24 hours so that I could be monitored for infection and have steroids administered to help the baby’s lungs fully develop.  Furthermore, if I was going to go into early labour then it is more likely to happen in that 24-hour period following the waters breaking.

My body was continuously replacing amniotic fluid to protect the baby, but as the sac was broken it was not retained and was constantly trickling out of me.  It was the strangest sensation and I had to wear pads to collect the fluid, which I needed to change regularly.  The fluid was a clear/pinkish colour and I had to keep checking that this didn’t become greenish or brown, which would indicate infection. I was encouraged to drink lots of water to enable the body to use this to create the amniotic fluid.

I found it funny – the Goddess of the Moon was up to her tricks again.  Earlier on in the pregnancy I had made a real fuss about the due date as the dating scan at 12 weeks had given me an earlier date than the clinic.  I couldn’t understand the reason the medical profession would work from the computer generated date, when I quite clearly knew the exact date of conception because of the clinical manner in which the baby had been conceived.

I was concerned, back then, of intervention at 40 weeks as the specialist I initially saw told me that he wouldn’t want me carrying the baby beyond the 40-week period.  Thus I had been very keen that the medical profession use the date given to me by the clinic as this would ‘buy’ me an extra four days of pregnancy before any talk of intervention.

Now however, the earlier due date was working in my favour because it meant that I reached the ‘safe’ 34 weeks four days earlier than if we had used the due date given to me by the clinic. Thus when Monday arrived, I’d reached 34 weeks per the dating scan and I was administered the final steroid. I could almost hear the midwives sighing with relief that we’d managed to get to that date without me going into labour.

Over the course of that initial 24-hour period in hospital, I saw three different specialists and they all agreed that I should be allowed to go home and continue life as normal, except no baths, no sex and no teaching yoga.  I was to return to the ward every other day for monitoring and to check for any signs of infection by continuing to regularly take my temperature and check my discharge. 

The intention was to keep the baby in utero for as long as possible, but no longer than 37 weeks when the baby is considered full term.  At that point I would need to have a Caesarean delivery as the baby was breech and without the amniotic fluid, there was no way it could turn now. This was far from ideal as I was still adamant that I didn’t want to have a Caesarean section and I was going to do all I could to fight for a vaginal delivery.

I raised the issue with each of the specialists in turn.  My lovely lady specialist was adamant that that wasn’t going to be an option. Another was aware that the Hannah Term Breech Trial had been flawed and that while there were risks with a breech delivery, there were also risks associated with a Caesarean Section and it was a case of seeing what happened.  The other wouldn’t give an opinion either way and left me with some hope that possibly I could convince him of a vaginal breech delivery when we got to decision day.

I spoke to the midwives at length about breech delivery too and enquired whether any of them would be able to facilitate this delivery, but the answer was a resounding ‘no’. There is now a lot of fear surrounding vaginal breech delivery and many midwives are not trained to support such a birth.

It was frustrating and yet I was still so determined. I prayed with increased vigour for a resolution that would find the baby miraculously turning and tried to keep my thinking positive. 

Around this time, I emailed my four University friends and shared with them the recent events and my desperation to avoid another Caesarean Section. One of them had had a planned Caesarean section as her son was also breech and the another one had experienced both an emergency and a planned Caesarean Section. Both were keen to allay my fears and assure me that a Caesarean birth could be both empowering, intimate and beautiful.

While I was still stubbornly resistant to the idea of a Caesarean Section, their comments did get me thinking.  I knew without doubt that my experience of Caesarean Section had not been empowering, intimate or beautiful, yet I began questioning whether that was due to the placenta previa more than the procedure per se.

I was released from hospital that Monday late morning and returned home to find the book I had ordered on the Saturday “The Universe Has Your Back” by Gabrielle Bernstein, had arrived. This book is about relinquishing the need to control our lives, to transmute fear into love, find safety in the face of uncertainty, joy in what might otherwise be pain and to recognise that the Universe has your back. It was certainly well timed.

If there was one thing I needed to be reminded of right now it was that the Universe had my back and that there was a greater plan at work here.  Deep down I already knew this, but I realised that I needed to try to come to terms with the possibility of a Caesarean Section and address all the fears that were attached to this.  I had to see the love, and strengthen my faith in a peaceful outcome, whatever that may mean.

My colleagues thought I was mad returning to work on the Tuesday with my waters broken but the specialists believed that this was the safest option for me as it meant I was sitting for most of the day.  They were all nervous though and there were jokes of a delivery in the office.

I felt fine, albeit that I was constantly leaking amniotic fluid and I couldn’t feel the baby kicking so easily now, so there were moments of minor panic. However, the more I read my new book, the more I started to realise that this was all a lesson in overcoming fear and stepping into a place of love and trust instead. 

I felt this overwhelming need to try and get on top of my workload and finish off loose ends. This feeling increased that evening and I had a fretful night’s sleep as I ran over in my mind all that I needed to do to ensure that my workload was in a position to handover to someone else.

I woke up feeling energised and raring to get on with the day. Firstly, however I needed to get in the sea, as I just felt I needed cleansing and grounding ahead of the day. We all traipsed down to the beach and I remember the intimacy of it and mentioned to E that I didn’t think I would be back again for a while and that we needed to capture this moment just the three of us.

I had to go into the hospital that morning so that my temperature could be checked and for the baby’s heart to be monitored. Basically this means that two flat devices (sensors) are held in place over the baby bump by elastic belts and the baby’s heart beat is recorded on a chart and checked for any abnormalities.

I also had to press a button each time the baby kicked so the midwives could monitor the baby’s movements.  Other than that I got to lie back and read my book, which was constantly reminding me to turn to love and away from fear.

After that I headed into the office and worked as quickly as I could to tie off loose ends.  I remember being so focused and busy that I didn’t even stop to eat anything. I had resigned from my job a few months earlier but a replacement had not yet been found.  So I wrote notes detailing all aspects of my role so that someone could easily come in and pick this up from me if necessary.

By 5pm I was finished and it was a huge weight off my mind. I felt like I could finally relax, although I had this sense that I needed to go to a church and pray. E and Elijah joined me and we tried our local church, St Andrews, where E’s Dad’s ashes are kept but this was strangely closed.  We visited E’s Dad’s grave nonetheless, which felt appropriate in the circumstances.

We then headed to St Martin’s church, as it was the next closest one to us, and it was only when we arrived that I realised why we had been directed here.  Outside the church is a granite standing stone or Menhir dating from 2500 – 1800BC, which is shaped as a female figure and is known as La Gran’mère du Chimquière. New brides place flowers on her head for luck and she is adorned with flowers on May Day.

I couldn’t help feeling that I needed her energy and wisdom in my life now too, so I touched her, said a prayer, gave thanks and asked for her support. We then briefly visited the church and I prayed to Mary for a miracle.  I still wanted the baby to turn from its breech position and I was hoping for Divine intervention!

I felt comforted by our church visitation and returned home feeling that now I could relax as everything was completed. It was perfect timing for a facial appointment I had booked later that evening as a post-retreat treat, an opportunity to finally relax, or so I thought!

Part 26 - Did my waters break or did I just wet myself?

In my infinite wisdom, I decided to run a Yoga and Wellbeing Retreat in the October that I would be 33 weeks pregnant.

I didn’t foresee any issues, I’d taught yoga until 36 weeks during my first pregnancy and while Elijah had been born at 38.5 weeks’ gestation, that was due to a planned Caesarean Section for placenta previa.

Ordinarily, one of my best friend’s, Vicki, helps me on retreat. She’s an amazing yoga adjustor and a compliment to the classes.  However, she had initially planned to be on holiday at the time of the retreat, so I commandeered the services of another local yoga teacher instead.

Nearer to the time Vicki’s plans changed and, initially, I was fairly adamant that I didn’t need her help in addition to the other teacher. However, the weekend prior to the retreat I got a tummy bug that made me feel rotten. I spent a day in bed feeling very sorry for myself and had to ask Vicki to cover my evening yoga class for me.

It was then, lying in bed on that Monday, with the retreat due to start on the Friday, that I had this sense that I needed Vicki to help me on the retreat too. Fortunately, she was keen to do so and with that I felt a sense of relief.  While I had no reason to doubt my ability to teach on the retreat, I was tired, as I had been busy building up to it. 

In my mind I’d decided that once the retreat had finished I would take life more slowly and gently. I should’ve known better - life has a habit of not always turning out as you intend, especially when you invite the Goddess of the Moon into it.

An Aries super full moon was due to peak at 4.23am on the Sunday, the retreat finishing later that morning at 11am. This full moon was meant to be all about ramming through fear, changing what you can change and surrendering to the rest.  It was ideal material for the retreat and provided our focus…face the fear and surrender to it…

On the Friday afternoon, prior to the guests arriving I did my own practice in the beautiful yoga space and felt something shift in my pelvis. The sensation sent me into minor panic because something didn’t feel right, but I didn’t have too much time to reflect on it as the participants were due to arrive. Still I spent that evening a little on edge, desperate to feel the baby kicking, who was having a quiet one, chilling out in my womb instead.

On the Saturday I joined the others for the usual early morning swim in the sea and was heartened that I could feel the baby kicking. I was very aware of the full moon energy building and I spent much of the weekend going on repeatedly about this.

I was especially focused on inviting the students to really tap into their fears and see if they could surrender to these during the weekend. I’m sure I bored them senselessly!

That afternoon I did another practice on my own, a womb based one ahead of the womb based class I was intending to teach that afternoon and I felt something shift again.  I wasn’t quite sure what it was, but later that afternoon when I went for a walk with Vicki, I felt as if the baby had dropped, and I found myself holding my bump, as if to hold the baby in.  It was a strange feeling.

After dinner that evening I played with Elijah, lifting him up and rolling on the ground with him, having lots of fun together before bedtime.  On the way to our room, I bought myself a strawberry quartz bracelet that Athene, one of my jeweller friends was selling. It had been catching my eye all weekend and I decided that now was the time to wear it.

Little did I realise how quickly the energy of this bracelet would get to work. Apparently the energy of strawberry quartz supports one’s emotional body, helping to heal and release negative emotional patterns no longing serving one, bringing one’s emotions into harmony so that one lives one’s life with an appreciation for, and with gratitude to all that life brings.

Back in the room and Elijah asleep I ordered the book, “The Universe has Your Back” by Gabrielle Bernstein, from Amazon.  I had seven weeks until my due date and I wanted the Universe to have my back – or help me turn my breech baby. Either that or I was going to have to face my fear of another Caesarean Section, and learn how to surrender to it.

I went to sleep about 10pm while E was still with friends, merrily drinking their way through a bottle or two of wine in the Mermaid pub on Herm. About 11pm, I awoke feeling something wet in the bed, which felt very strange. I quickly realised the source of the wetness was coming from me! E was in bed by then and I tried not to wake him as I rushed to the toilet.

I initially considered that I’d just wet myself, then I realised that the water was continuing to flow out of me.  I had never experienced waters breaking previously due to the planned Caesarean section with Elijah, so it was all new to me. I woke E and explained what I thought was going on. He didn’t really know what to make of it so I sent a quick text to Anita, my doula, hoping that she was still awake and able to help me.

Fortunately, she saw the message on her way to bed and quickly responded.  She also asked whether perhaps I’d wet myself but when I explained that I still had water coming out of me, she agreed, it seemed my waters had broken.

This was not ideal timing and for a split second I considered that we might just have to see what happened in the morning as I had a yoga retreat to finish - there was still another class to teach in the morning.

However, Anita telephoned and told me in no uncertain terms that I needed to phone the hospital, that probably a lifeboat would be sent to collect me and Ewan. It all sounded a bit serious, I didn’t want all this fuss for no reason, but I also couldn’t deny the fact that my waters had broken – early and with me carrying a breech baby!

Ewan telephoned the maternity ward  and the midwife told us to come into the ward but of course we couldn’t do that, we were stuck in Herm! So there began a rather challenging few hours as arrangements were made to ‘rescue’ us and transport us to the hospital in Guernsey.

Fortunately, my parents were also staying with us on Herm and amazingly they answered their phone and joined us within five minutes. By then I was shaking uncontrollably, not least due to the fear of the unknown but also because of all the fuss and it was almost a relief to continuously leak water, as if to confirm that yes, I did need to get to the hospital.

There was lots of toing and froing telephone conversations with the paramedics and the midwives and we were told to wait until the Herm first aider came to collect us.  This seemed to take quite some time, over an hour or so, and the waiting was a very ‘present moment’ experience as I was in hyper alert mode.

On the positive side, we had time to make arrangements for the rest of the retreat. My parents would now need to stay in our room with Elijah and Vicki would need to teach the class in the morning and close the retreat.  I’d already made notes detailing what I’d wanted to say, to bring it all together, and I now wrote a message to Vicki explaining this and thanking her for covering for me!

Eventually, Mark, the First Aider, arrived on his gator and drove us the short distance to Rosaire steps where we were due to meet the lifeboat. Ordinarily the ‘Flying Christine’, the St Johns Ambulance boat would have collected me but it was deemed too rough for it.

The full moon was due to peak in a few hours and the tide was extremely low. It was also blowing a gale and the lifeboat was having trouble mooring. It didn’t help that this was a loaned lifeboat, the usual one out of service at the time.

Thus we spent an hour or so standing on the quay chatting as we watched the lifeboat crew try to figure out how to reach us.  It was ironic really, I had spotted the lifeboat on the quay alongside the Herm boat when we’d initially left Guernsey a few days earlier, which was unusual, it’s not something I normally noticed.  And now here I was watching it trying to rescue me! It’s funny how these things happen.

What was particularly amusing however, was the fact that the full moon was shining brightly above us. There she was, the Goddess of the Moon in all her glory, shining brightly. I had to laugh because of course I’d been going on and on all weekend about the power of the super full moon and here I was now standing beneath her light as she reached her peak in the early hours of the Sunday morning. I’ll never forget that image of her that night.

The outboard of the inshore dinghy wouldn’t work, so eventually anchored by lines, we were transferred ship to shore in a little rowing boat and helped to climb up onto the life boat. On board was a midwife and two female paramedics, who’d had a tough hour or so bobbing around on board. This was my first time in a life boat and I couldn’t quite comprehend all this fuss just for me. 

The tide was so extremely low that the lifeboat had to go the long way back to Guernsey, and there was a significant swell, which meant that the boat was moving about dramatically at times.  The midwife was keen to get me back to Guernsey as quickly as possible and the crew did their best to facilitate this.

I was seated in the padded and sprung chair, which was a relief as it took some of the pressure off the bumping that the others had to endure.  I’ll never forget that journey though as it did nothing to ease my nerves. The lifeboat was tossed around and I felt decidedly sick by the end of the trip. Poor E wasn’t in a comfy chair and his stomach didn’t like the ride either.  Even his back was sore from the experience.

Back on dry land on Guernsey we were driven in an ambulance to the hospital. It was surreal being on the road in the early hours of the morning as party revellers returned home. I felt a bit of a fraud in an ambulance as I felt fine, other than the fact I had water dripping out of my vagina and wetting my pants and leggings.

At the hospital, my lovely lady specialist happened to be on duty, which was fortunate as we were able to joke about the manner in which my pregnancy was unfolding.  She knew I was keen for a vaginal delivery, and she knew that the baby had turned breech and would need to turn to facilitate this.  And now here I was at 33 weeks with my waters broken.  It wasn’t ideal.

An internal examination confirmed that yes, my waters had indeed broken but that I wasn’t yet in labour. According to my midwifery records, my due date based on the dating scan showed that I was 33 weeks and 6 days pregnant.  This meant that the baby was – in theory at least – only a day away from having fully developed lungs. The specialist was keen therefore that we did all we could to promote this development and keep the baby in utero until at least 34 weeks’ gestation.

I was immediately prescribed steroids, which would be administered to me over the following 24-hour period while I was kept on the ward for observation. I remember the specialist and nurse leaving E and I in the triage room to go and make the necessary arrangements and me bursting into tears and clinging on to him.

I wasn’t ready to have the baby.  I had had it in my mind all pregnancy that I would work hard until my Herm retreat and then calm it down a bit.  I had been looking forward to the calmer period, focusing on my pregnancy and trying to turn the baby, and now here I was with my waters broken. I wasn’t prepared mentally or emotionally.

Furthermore, I wasn’t at all prepared practically.  All the baby stuff was in storage and I hadn’t yet gotten around to sorting it. Clothes needed to be washed and the Moses basket found.  I hadn’t bought any nappies or other stuff required for a small baby, and I certainly hadn’t packed my hospital bag.

However, whether I was ready or not, this was really happening and half an hour later I found myself trying to get comfortable on a hospital bed on the maternity ward, while E walked home. It was all a little surreal and I sobbed quietly to myself as I tried to get some sleep, all the while my mind trying to come to terms with what was happening.