Enter Sage.

This one comes with a warning.
If you’re offended by swear words, pooh, and other bodily fluids than I strongly suggest you skip this one.

This piece of writing has been a long time coming for me. There’s been many a days I’ve been ready to sit and begin writing only to have another ‘experience’ happen to me and delay my writing and at the same time give me more material to write about. I have SO much raw, disgusting and beautiful material to write about but I’ve been in two minds about just how much I share with ya’ll. Usually I’m all about baring my soul, I wouldn’t think twice telling you all but this experience of Sage’s birth has left me feeling extremely vulnerable and really unlike my usual self. It’s been unsettling to say the least.

When I was in smack, bang in the throws of full blown labour and there were bodily fluids flying, leaking, dripping all around the room, Lachlan held me and said “Remember to keep this G rated when you write about it”…. My initial instinct was of course defensive, like “Oah hell no, don’t tell me what to do, (especially when I’m in labor) women gotta know about this crazy arse birth stuff”, and then shortly to follow my next thought was, ‘Wow, he knows me so well. He knows I’m going to bare my soul and share in descriptive detail about all of the grossness and beauty that is happening to me right now. Bless him.”

Leading up to Sage’s birth I prayed, meditated and completely convinced myself that I was going to have a vagina birth. (I also convinced myself I was having a boy too. Totally convinced… but no. She surprised me with her little fanny)
My baby was going to be born out of my vagina I told myself everyday. Safely. This was my mantra for months. A safe birth, from my vagina. I did the work and it payed off. The Universe heard me and I was able to birth her out of my vagina, virtually drug free. But…. I got my mantra all wrong. Be careful what you wish for. I wasn’t specific enough. I should’ve added ‘without medical interference’. It should of been “I AM GOING TO SAFELY BIRTH MY BABY OUT OF MY VAGINA WHILST HAVING NO MEDICAL INTERFERENCE’ because the medical interference is what I believe has broken me.

Sage is almost 10 weeks old this week and I still have a long, LOOOONG way to go with my recovery. I had an episiotomy, an infection, a chest infection, a thyroid scare and a Prolapse. I am in flat out recovery mode and will be for a very long time. In fact I’ve dedicated the entire year of 2019 to gently and slowly healing my body and I feel empowered by that.
Hands up who is informed about Prolapse. Not many of you I’m guessing. It’s another topic women don’t discuss enough leading into birth. I’ll be writing much more about this in coming posts and on my social medias. It’s so important we are educated about all possibilities in birth. Not just birthing itself. There’s so much more we need to talk about when it comes to birth. I’ve only just come to terms with my ‘new’ body. I’ve accepted things are different. Very different.
Why the hell women do not talk about this stuff miffs me. Why aren’t we warned, educated and supported. Take breastfeeding for example. With my first born I had no idea breastfeeding was going to feel as if someone was polishing my nipple with sandpaper, or that I’d wake in the night saturated in sweat from the increasing hormones surging through my body. I had to find it all out for myself through google and talking to other mothers to know it was a normal part of birth.

We are constantly told not to listen to and avoid anyone who has a negative spin about birth leading up to our own births. Block your ears and walk away. I get that. I know it’s important to go into birth with a positive mind set but if I knew exactly what an episiotomy was, how long it took to recover from one, the damage the forceps would be on my pelvic floor, then maybe I would of thought about my birthing choices differently. No one educated me. No one warned me. And apparently prolapse is really common. So why didn’t I know about it? BECAUSE IT’S NOT BLOODY SPOKEN ABOUT. It’s embarrassing talking about incontinence but its so important we do. Prolapse is labelled as normal, swept under the table. Your Physio will tell you to do some exercises, you’ll never full heal and off you’re sent, never to recover. I refuse to believe I will never fully recover from this. Which is why I dedicate an entire year to healing holistically.
During pregnancy all the medical world was interested in informing me about was that I was a previous caesar patient and I was at risk of tearing my uterine scar if I delivered naturally.”You should have another caesar” I was encouraged. The doctor outside my birthing suite was lurking at the door, rubbing his surgical hands together, drooling and counting down the minutes until he could enter and ‘take over’. (For the uninformed- A previous caesar patient is only allowed to push for a certain amount of time as there is a chance the uterus scar can tear and cause all sorts of implications) My babies head was crowning for an hour, bobbing up and down with every push but just wouldn’t pop out.
So just as the hour ticked over, right on the minute, he bashed his way into the suite, slapped my midwife aside and insisted I go to theater to have my baby extracted with forceps.

At this point I was almost 12 hrs into labour. I was fully dilated. completely open to the world.(what a feeling that is.. OPEN!) I’d done all that I could. I’d got to 10cm dilation with no drugs, I’d pushed for an hour, I’d been in the shower, I’d done my hypno breathing, had my back rubbed, listened to my playlist, I’d poohed all over the place. Yes, there it is folks. Humiliation. Honesty. The beauty of birth. I poohed. A lot. It was comical. Not just one pooh on the final push like you hear other woman do. I poohed on and off for the entire 12 hours of labour. There was e shit on my foot, my dressing gown. Shit all over the place I was so embarrassed… To begin with I started off apologising to my midwife when I would feel a little bit slip out, but toward the end of labour I was just like “I poohed again…and again” and continued panting and pushing. At one point my midwife was cleaning some shit off my foot with such calmness and love and in that moment, between contractions I looked at her and she was an angel. A pure angel. My heart burst open for midwives across the planet. For women in general. I felt so much love for our kind in that moment. Woman supporting women, with no judgement whatsoever. Just pure love. She made me feel ok with my shit. So I kept on panting and poohing. I love being a woman.

So there I was fully contracted, pushing, panting and pacing the room, my midwife and husband had sneakily turned my gas off an hour ago to encourage contractions but I continued chewing and biting down on that gas tube like I was back at a Dockland rave in my teens. Placebo got me through. I was feeling those feels of exhaustion, rolling eyeballs, narcolepsy. My insides were absolutely squealing. I didn’t really understand what the doctor was saying to me but I knew it meant business. I knew he wasn’t going to let me continue. I knew there was a chance I could endanger myself and my baby if I continued. I was pushing so much. Oh my gosh. The pushing! It just never ends. When you think your push is coming to an end, your body just keeps on contracting and urging you to push even longer.
I knew I was going to meet my baby soon, so I gave permission to the doctor to take me. I handed myself over to him. I knew I was going to meet my baby very soon.

In the last 20 minutes of my labour I was whisked off into theater. My fanny was chopped, my husband turned pale and forceps pulled my beautiful baby out. In that moment I didn’t think twice about my poor vagina. I just wanted my baby. I should’ve thought more about my vagina. My poor vagina. My womanhood. For what was to come broke me…. But also, strangely has empowered me.

I felt my body push my baby out. The relief.

“It’s a girl.” The surgeon announced

Tears of the purest joy and love rolled down my face as I welcomed my babies warm little body into my arms and onto my chest.

“Thank you” I whispered into her ears as I nuzzled and cried into her. “Thank you for choosing me baby girl”.