In HuffPost Birth Diaries we hear the extraordinary stories of the everyday miracle of birth. This week, Anna Malnutt shares her story. If you’d like to share yours, email email@example.com.
When I think back to the moment my son was born, I remember there being lots of people around us in theatre. I think of my husband and I both wearing masks and full scrubs. And I remember it taking a long time. Not because of the baby. But because I was losing so much blood.
Getting furloughed from work in the late stages of my pregnancy had actually been quite nice. I was getting fed up there and finding it difficult to work, being tired and grumpy all the time. So in some ways, that bit worked out well.
Finding out that pregnant women were on the vulnerable list for Covid-19 was stressful though. We were careful about not going out in those last weeks and I made sure I read around to feel better informed.
There had been a few incidents of reduced movement from the baby during my pregnancy, so I had an early induction. That bit was impacted by coronavirus, too – my husband couldn’t be with me, so I had to go into hospital all alone.
Once there, I reacted strongly to the drugs and the contractions were consistent – and consistently painful – for hours. They were so frequent, in fact, that the doctors took the pessary out earlier than expected and moved me to a side room. Then they broke my waters. I was 2cm dilated and once they’d broken, my husband was able to come in. It’d been 24 hours since I’d last seen him.
I had strong contractions for another hour, but now they weren’t often enough. So I was put on a drip and offered an epidural. That was the best thing ever – I couldn’t believe it. I could barely handle the pain before, but the epidural changed everything. I was so...