I’ve sat down to write this a handful of times, but each time I just stared at a blank page for ten minutes before deciding that it wasn’t going to come. If I’m completely honest with myself, the truth is that I’m not really totally cool with how it panned out. That’s not to say that it went badly, or that I didn’t get the birth that I wanted, because I really believe that as long as my baby and I are healthy then all is well – I do mean that. But if you asked me how I feel about it… I’m just not sure what to say. So, for my own form of catharsis, I’m going to write it all down, even though part of me wants to stare at a blank page and avoid it a little longer.

If you haven’t read my birth story with Oscar, you can see it here, and I’d recommend reading it first, as it’s the beginning of my story with Wilf.

With Oscar, my first child, I had a normal vaginal delivery with just gas and air as pain relief. My birth plan was to deliver my baby safely by whatever means were necessary, but I knew that I was dearly hoping for a birth with as little intervention as possible. I stayed at home for as long as possible, practicing my natal hypnotherapy breathing and visualisations, and I used the birthing pool once I got to hospital. I had to get out of the pool to deliver Oscar, but I found the whole experience incredibly positive. I stayed calm and felt in control throughout, and my lasting memories are those of euphoria and feeing like a complete superhero (my brain has cleverly erased the memory of the pain!)

As my pregnancy with Wilf progressed, and I started to think about the birth, I genuinely couldn’t wait to do it again. Yes, it was the most pain I had ever experienced, but also the biggest endorphin rush in my lifetime, and definitely my proudest achievement.

Moving on to my second pregnancy, at my 34 week appointment with the midwife, my bump was measuring big – as in, off the chart. I wasn’t surprised or worried, as Oscar was a big baby (9lb 2 oz for my 5ft 4 frame), but she told me that I’d have to see the consultant. The only thought that crossed my mind was that I might be offered a growth scan, or an early induction of labour.

The following week, I saw the obstetrician. This was a senior consultant that we had met before (we had an early pregnancy scan with him) and Ben has worked with him. We both trust and respect him greatly. He told us that, although it was difficult to accurately predict, he thought that Wilf was shaping up to be even bigger than Oscar. He read carefully through my birth notes with Oscar (which I had never seen before) before delivering his recommendation in a calm, measured manner.

I had shoulder dystocia with Oscar (this is when the baby’s shoulder gets stuck in the mother’s pelvis after the baby’s head has been delivered).

In my memory, I know this had happened but I simply didn’t realise the seriousness of it because, 1) I had just delivered Oscar’s head and I was in a world of pain, and 2) once it was all over I had just become a mother for the first time and that was the beginning and the end of everything.

I had a ‘high’ risk of having shoulder dystocia again

It is impossible to predict just how likely I was to run into this problem again, but previous shoulder dystocia is the single biggest risk factor for having it again.

If I did get shoulder dystocia with Wilf, there was a 1 in 4 chance of a bad outcome

‘A bad outcome’ meaning either harm to the baby (brain damage, nerve damage to his upper limbs), or death.

My options were: 1) Have a planned Caesarian section or 2) Have a normal vaginal delivery. If my decision was to go for the latter, they would ensure that a senior midwife, an obstetrician and paediatrician were present at the moment of delivery, in case things did not go smoothly.

I left the appointment with my heart racing and my head spinning: I had not envisaged being told what we had just heard. I had been convinced that if I had had a normal delivery once before, the next time would be even quicker and easier. I had started to prepare for the birth with my hypnobirthing CDs already. I told the consultant that I needed time to think about my decision; he said “of course,” and booked me a follow up in two weeks time. I asked him, I pressed him – what would you recommend? What do you think I should do? He wouldn’t answer this, as he stressed that only I can make that decision. But he did say that if I still wanted to go for a normal delivery, that was fine – as long as I felt that the risks involved in doing that were acceptable to me.

Ben and I spent the next two weeks thinking about it; talking about it, but I felt like I was going around in circles. I chose to tell a few people close to us, that I respect, about our predicament, hoping to get some clarity. Every single response was, “well, you must have the Caesarian, surely? You’d be crazy to take that risk!” I tried hard to rewind what had happened, thinking that if I had never been sent to see the obstetrician, I would have never realised that Oscar was actually one of the 3 out of 4 cases of shoulder dystocia that are fine, and I wouldn’t know the risks I was facing, and could carry on planning my natural delivery. But it had all been said out loud, and now I couldn’t ignore it.

I finally found clarity on the day before our next appointment, at 37 weeks, perhaps just through the pressure of having to make a decision. There was one phrase that the consultant used that I kept coming back to – “was this an acceptable risk?” The odds were in my favour – 75% chance that Wilf would be just fine, and that’s only if I did get shoulder dystocia again. But the possible bad outcome, if things did go wrong, was catastrophic. Of course this risk was not acceptable to me. No way. And for what benefit would I be taking this risk? For me to have the experience (and hopefully the joy) of having a natural birth. I mean, it would be purely selfish, and if anything went wrong, I could never have lived with myself for making that decision.

I went into the appointment and asked for the elective Caesarian, knowing it was absolutely the right decision but in all honesty, really disappointed that it was happening. It was booked there and then for 2 weeks time, when I would be 39+3 weeks pregnant.

I’m going to leave it here for now, at the risk of losing some of you to my endless rambling – this is going to be a long one! I’ll be posting the second part of Wilf’s birth story next week.

Hannah x