“Some of the Greatest Adventures don’t always go to plan”…. Fraser’s Birth Story

As it draws closer and closer to Fraser’s first Birthday, things are starting to be asked and memories are starting to become clearer. When my blue eyed boy finally made his entrance into the world the whole 8 pounds 10 oz of him. At 2:51 Am on the 8th of May 2017 he finally arrived.  I had to go check this because I remember nothing of his birth and the lead up to it.  Some memories do make  them self known in my nightmares when they wake me from my sleep at 4 am.  Dripped in sweat wondering if what woke me was fact or fiction.  This is how I recall his birth from what I can put together from the cloudy memories from that weekend and bits my husband has told me.

For a Mum of one already, this time round I knew what I was going into there was no being naive about what was going to happen when it came to giving birth. Unlike my first there was no secrets to the ins and *out*of giving birth.  My birth plan was very basic maybe I knew deep down that this birth was definitely not going to go to plan.  The birth plan consisted of one sentence. I’l give gas and air a go but if it gets to the point I was exhausted then I was willing to take any help I could get.


As a very pregnant me found at 37 weeks when I went for a scan to see if my little monkey of a bump had decided to finally go head down, we found out he had but he was measuring rather big for little old 5ft 2 of me.  I’ll be honest I had a slight freak, you know in your head your going to need to push this baby out at some point but to come face to face with the knowledge that he was already pushing 8 pounds and still had another 3 weeks plus of cooking time was very daunting.  Especially when I gave birth to my first she only sat at just over 7 pounds and she definitely left her mark in the way of many stitches, months and months of pain and problems.  I was given 2 options with my past problems and possibility of him getting stuck * I know I crossed my legs when that was discussed*.  First option to come in at exactly 39 weeks and be induced or to be booked in for a section at 40 weeks with still possibility that I might go into labour naturally before this point.  I went for the first choice mainly because the idea having him in there any longer petrified me since i clearly cooked him to perfection already and he was running out of room and my body was struggling.



To enter the hospital knowing that you will be coming home with the 4th member of your little clan is exciting, nerve wracking and sickening all in one.  To be induced and sent home with what I would call a tampon in-situ was a bit of a buzz kill.  I knew it was coming as I had the same with my first, so no idea why I thought in the last 4 years things would have changed.  I knew I should read my baby books for a refresher this time.  So off we popped home told to return in 24 hours if nothing happened but hopefully they would see us sooner if it did start doing its job.  So off home we went and waited and waited and waited!! I swear I must bounced a small crater in our floor from all the bouncing I was doing on my birthing ball.  But no clearly he was comfy and wasn’t having any it.

What was to follow was a lot more waiting when we returned back to the hospital. Sweeps, if you have experienced one I don’t need to say anymore, if not think smear test but a hell of a lot more poking around.  So here we are its now Saturday night and nothing has happened then poof hello! I recognized that feeling, its a contraction slowly but surely they start coming and hell they really start.  I’m told that if they don’t slow down they will need give me something to slow them down.  They then virtually stop and my poor husband is sent home.  In comes Sunday and when the hubby appears bright and early I’m doing well in the ward.  Yep! The ward, with 6 other women and I’m the only one in labour while the rest are cooing over their fresh new babies.  Things go well and off we pop to the long awaited birthing suite to finally have my waters popped.  This is it we’re on the home run we are def not going home without this little guy.



This is where the memories start to go hazy once my waters were broken.  The idea was I lie on the bed for 30 mins on the monitor once all was well I could go back bouncing away to try get this guy to move on out. That time never came, my bump was not happy.  Every time my waters went, his heart rate dropped and so did my blood pressure.  I spent hours and hours in active labour, put on a drip to try speed things up because baby was getting more and more distressed.



The one memory that sticks in my head and wakes me from my sleep is that moment the midwife cant get a heart beat, that my blood pressure is dropping and the alarms go off. Within seconds my room fills up with more staff  than I can count. The thing is it didn’t happen just once or even twice, every single time.

After at least 14 hours of active labour I’m finally 10cm dilated. After 3 miss placed epidurals, as gas and air wasn’t cutting it  anymore. To be examined countless times and at one point a monitor having to be put on babies head while he was still inside. Our alarm was going off that many times seemed pointless to send the crowd away because in 5 mins they be back again.  When you see the look of fear on your husbands face it never leaves you.  The detail of the events were filled in as best he could remember but you know that day haunts him as much as it does me.

With that final alarm being told that this baby needs out now! Hubby is put in scrubs and told I’m being prepped for a section.  He told me I was falling asleep on the way to and on the operating table and had not a clue what was happening.  Thankfully after help from forceps, the main consultant that stayed back late and all the other Dr’s, midwifes and whoever else was in that room, Fraser did finally make his entrance.  When you await that first cry and it doesn’t come it’s the worst feeling in the world those few seconds feel like a life time.  He was born with the cord tied round his neck and needed a little help to start breathing.  I don’t remember his first cry or how I came to be in the operating room, I couldn’t of even told you the day or time heck if they asked me my full name I think I would of struggled with that. (I have just been told they did ask me before moving me to the operating room and I couldn’t even answer)


Looking back how I hoped to have one of those magical births people talk about rather than the one that haunts me in my sleep. A birth that I don’t need to ask what happened or being able to remember that first cuddle.  I have the pictures but no actual recollection of those moments before or after.  That he was brought into the world with such a horrible lasting memory.    As his first Birthday approaches I try and piece together those memories that clearly my brain doesn’t want me to remember.  Maybe its right and they should be left to be lost in the back where they will never be found again.



3 thoughts on ““Some of the Greatest Adventures don’t always go to plan”…. Fraser’s Birth Story

  1. Little Pickle's Mom says:

    Gosh, what an emotional read! Well done on his birth – you did a CRACKING job. As a fellow emergency section mama (and also, I was induced too!), this struck such a chord with me. I hope you all have a wonderful time celebrating his first birthday!


  2. Lucie from LucieLovesit.com says:

    This was such an emotional read, it always reminds me of my negative experience.. which I guess is horrible because it gave me my beautiful daughter.

    I’ve made peace with it now..for the most part haha. I hope he has a lovely first birthday! Xx


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