Iris and Louis

Iris and Louis

Stephanie Norquay – Melbourne Doula / Birth Attendant

It had been an epic, scorching Monday. I sweated at work balancing my weight carefully on my colossal ankles. A grade 3 kid said to me at recess;
‘Miss, I think you’re about to give birth’.

I was 37 weeks and 2 days pregnant that day. Soon. Yes, soon, but not yet. I ate another muesli bar. Third? Fourth? Hours seemed to be crawling backwards on all fours.

When I finally got home I checked my phone:
Do you want a lift to Di Diddle?

Fuck. That’s right. The last of the classes was on that evening. Maybe I could skip it. It was on breastfeeding. Doesn’t the baby just feed? Surely it’s intuitive. I just drove home from work for an hour and a half. What is wrong with me? Maybe I’m getting sick. I am so tired.
I definitely didn’t want to be sick when I went into labour. So I ate 3 cloves of garlic. Raw. I went to class and sat in the front row. Class passed. I thought I learnt how to breastfeed. (I was wrong)

I set my alarm for work and tried to sleep. Shit, I didn’t do my hip exercises. Or make my lunch for work. Did I put the work keys in my bag? I finally fell asleep at midnight.

I woke up at 3am needing to pee. When I got out of bed, there was a gush pouring out the sides of my underwear and onto the floor. I still had my eyes half closed. I waited. This wasn’t my first labour dream. Other than a steady continuous running of water down my legs, there was no change in my wakefulness. I was pretty much dead awake. I called out to Louis.
‘My water is breaking’ I muttered half asking, half explaining.

We stared at the puddle of slimy, pink liquid on the ground in disbelief, in disgust, in awe, in excitement. It smelt like coconut water and sperm.
‘Yep that’s gotta be your waters. ’ He said after a while that was too long for it to be wee. He grabbed some towels and his phone.

I stood still in the puddle shivering with fear and excitement. I thought I had more time!! What the hell!!??? I need to hand out the templates for the thing I was doing at work and I haven’t finished covering the ugly stain on the wall in the front room and I haven’t packed the hospital bag properly. And I need to go to work!!! And… And…. I looked at the made up bassinet next to my bed. I looked at the growing puddle at my feet. Ready or not here it comes.

Louis called the hospital. They said to come in to check that everything was ok. We did. Not a contraction in sight at that stage. At the hospital I had some monitoring to check how the baby was going. They established that yes it was my waters, yes there were signs of contractions and yes the baby was ok so I could go home. I was booked in for an induction on Wednesday morning if labour didn’t kick in by then.

As soon as we got back into the car, I felt my first contraction. It felt like bad period pain in really tight pants and after someone has kicked you in the lower back. We got home and I sent Louis to bed so he could rest. I tried to rest but my contractions were 10-12 minutes apart and strong enough that I couldn’t sleep through them.
So I got to work. I brought in every single cushion I could find. I pulled down the blinds. I lit candles and burnt essential oil and showered and got dressed. And I laboured.
I lay down between contractions and stood up and walked and breathed and bounced. I could certainly talk through them at that stage. The hours rolled past. My contractions got stronger.

Louis got up. He kissed me.

At midday my friend Hannah arrived and we continued. The stronger the contractions, the stronger the cycle of hormones, the more sedated I became. I felt like I was entering a zone that although very new to me, had a certain familiarity. Maybe like being at the Rainbow Serpent festival but slightly less glittery and colourful. Erykah Badu played in the background followed by D’Angelo, Followed by Frank Ocean etc etc.

I surrendered to the intensity of contractions with a combination of dancing, martial arts, song, howling, twerking, shaking, boxing etc.. I am not particularly proficient at any of these, but I mastered them during my contractions. I morphed and shape-shifted. I became a dancer, a warrior, a fighter, a singer, a cow, a fish a wolf.
I listened to my howls bouncing against the bathroom walls. Louis held me, kissed me, laughed with me, comforted me when I cried. Fed me vegemite on toast and hydralites. Oxytocin.
I bounced on my giant pink ball, wearing my floral dress, blue sunglasses and as many hydralite icy poles as I could fit into my mouth.
The contractions got better and better. I called them names as if they were cyclones. Anabella, Tamara, Alistair, Belinda, Simone, Angelo, Walk in the park, piece of cake, sand pit, Fuck, Fuck, Motherfucker. Nice. Solid. I shook through each one and awaited the next with open arms.

But then it was 4pm. They were coming thick and fast. We had been talking to Stephanie our superhero, and at this stage I was well and truly ready for her to come over. The intensity of the contractions was really starting to challenge my I-got-this’ attitude, moving closer to what-the-hell-are-you-kidding-me-I-have-to-do-this-again-in-five-minutes to faaaaaaaaaaaark. Faaaaaaaaaaaaaark. Faaaaaaaaaaaaar kind of thought process.

Stephanie came over mid contraction and mid scream and put her hands firmly on my hips pressing my pelvis in a way that made the intensity dissipate immediately. It was like an angel had come and contradicted the pressure I was feeling in my lower back and abdomen. It was SO good I wanted to kiss her and hug her. I think I did.
My contractions remained at around 5 minutes apart for hours and hours. We continued to do this for what seemed like forever. It was. Forever. Stephanie locked eyes with me and massaged me and the whole team including Stephanie, Louis and Hannah worked together with me to get through this goddamn forever.

I remember Stephanie telling me to take two deep breaths at the end of each contraction. One for me and one for Marlo.

To this day (weeks after birth) I take two deep breaths at the end of a difficult moment. One for me and one for Marlo. I intend to do so forever.

It was getting late. Night time kinda late. I had been awake for 24 hours We were weary. I had exhausted the stress balls, the massages, the ice blocks and the eye contact. I had sores on my palms from clutching sharp crystals. I had listened to all my favourite albums and there was nothing left on my playlist. I was out of tricks and severely exhausted. It was well past day 7 at rainbow serpant festival. My contractions started to slow down and were now ten minutes apart. My body must have given up.
I really needed this baby to be born. NOW.

Louis had spoken to the staff at hospital who said we would need to come in that morning regardless of how close or far apart the contractions were.

At 7am I was having micro naps between contractions. Being woken up by a contraction is like being thrown off a balcony while you’re asleep and hung over. The sleep was so heavy in my heart and on my eyes that I couldn’t do anything to stop it. My team took turns having naps in the bedroom. I still don’t know how they endured what they did.

At 8am I phoned the hospital and asked for more time. I didn’t want more time. But I didn’t want an induction either. They said a few more hours would probably be ok.

I told Stephanie she should go home and have a nap. And we would call her when we were on our way to the hospital.

At 11am I decided I could no longer go on. . I needed help. We packed the car.

When we arrived to the hospital my contractions continued but were now 15-20 minutes apart and rather mild. I could talk through them again. I was calling them names like Uneventful. I worried that all that work I had done was for nothing and I would need an emergency cesarean after all. It had been close to 40 hours now.
The thought plagued me. But I tried to remain positive.

We were transferred to a birthing room where I got examined by Dr Edward who was a bit of a legend. His manner suggested that he was there to help but by no means did he understand fully what I was going through and he let the midwife handle the conversation with me. Good on you Dr Edward. He quickly concluded, rather surprised and impressed that I was 5-6cm dilated. Hoorah! I wanted to jump for joy.This meant I needed an augmentation to get the labour back to the intensity where it was last night before it slowed down… but not an induction. He also wanted to give me a drip with some fluids to help me with my completely worn out state. I looked like a massive balloon with limp limbs and bags under my eyes. Kinda like a used condom. Irony intended.

Once the drip was in I got a second wind. They amped up pretty quickly and within a couple of hours we were pretty close to where I was before it all slowed down.
Soon, I was complaining through clenched teeth that I didn’t get my minute of rest between contractions. From that point on things sped up but felt like an entire lifetime at the same time.

I remember my mother coming in at a time when I started screaming that I wanted to go home. I was done. I wanted the epidural and everything else available. Louis looked at me with eyes that basically said; you’re not getting the epidural. We haven’t done this for this long so you can have the epidural. And I knew there was nowhere to turn for sympathy. Maybe my mum would offer some sympathy?

But to my great surprise not only did she not offer sympathy she was acting as if everything was amazing. She was smiling and kissing me and saying how wonderful I looked.

WTF. ….I said ‘mummy they need to get him out NOW I can’t keep going’; To which she replied ‘why are you telling me? Tell Marlo he needs to come out. YOU’RE his mum.’

…You’re. His. Mum. I’m a mum. Oh. My. God. I’m a mum.

My mum left. I was left a mum.

A different doctor came, checked me. I was 8 cm. There was a midwife shift change. Charlotte took over. She was a tall slender beautiful young woman with eyes like the Leda twin stars. What a babe. I stood up and felt an intense weight in my bowel. I remember reading somewhere that it felt like you need to poo. It was sort of like I needed to poo but also like my soul was low in my bowel just between my legs and it weighed what a small cow might, I started to strain not knowing what was really happening. I checked out. Surrendered in a way I didn’t know prior to that moment. I could see myself and everyone around me as if from above. Things suddenly became calm despite the intensity of each passing millisecond. I bit Louis. I locked eyes with mum. Then with Steph. Then with Charlotte. Then with heaven. I stayed there. I breathed. I felt the sun shining in my vagina. Lauren Hill sang when it hurts so bad. I breathed. I pushed slightly. I locked eyes with heaven again. I breathed. Nothing even matters played in the background as they passed my little slippery, bloody, beautiful, beautiful Marlo into my arms. And nothing even mattered at that moment. I locked eyes with him. Hello Marlo. Nothing mattered. I felt the ultimate circle of life. The placenta that was still inside connected to my soul, connected to my eyes, connected with his eyes, connected to the umbilical chord tugging on the placenta. Nothing even matters.

– Iris 2018

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