Double bill:Just say "I'm sorry" and A four years old birth story

I meant to write this post on the 14th of October, my daughter's 4th birthday and then another one on the 20th of October, just five years after I discovered I had lost my first baby, but since my computer was away to be fixed I had to wait until now. And those two posts will just become one. It was probably meant to be this way, because the stories of those two posts are strictly related.

I'll then start from the one I wanted to write on the 20th.

During the summer 2008 me and my (then) fiancé decided we would start “trying for a baby”, we thought it was a bit early but as we were both convinced that for personal reasons it would take a while, we decided that starting sooner was better. Mind you, we found out we were pregnant after the first attempt! We started calling the baby Lenticchia (Lentil).We were over the moon, we (and probably especially me) couldn't wait to tell family and friends, so when I was just 6 weeks pregnant we had already spilled the beans to our families, to most of our friends and to my work mates. I knew that 1 in 3 pregnancies end in miscarriage, but I thought this couldn't happen to me. At 6 and 9 weeks I had some light bleeding, but two scans showed that baby was fine and his/her heart was beating happily.

I felt amazing even if I had morning sickness (or rather most-of-the-day-sickness!), I felt beautiful, happy and I walked always thinking that I wasn't alone, constantly talking (not out loud) to my baby.

I was working in Renfrew at the time and the travel (bus, then train, then bus again) would make me really sick (sometimes I just had to run to the toilet when I arrived to school), but still I didn't mind. I was really emotional, and could burst out laughing or crying for no reasons. I was in a completely new and different state of mind.

Then the 12-week scan date arrived, I couldn't wait! The night before the scan I dreamt that the baby had Down syndrome, but I didn't tell Ale when we woke up, because I felt silly. I know now, that I wasn't silly, my body, probably was giving me signs that only my mind could understand, and was passing them on to me in my dreams.

So we happily went for our scan, eager to see how our baby was growing and how big he/she was, and all those things that you might expect from a scan.

When we arrived, the sonographer asked us if we minded if a student was there while she performed the scan. We said we were fine with it, so she came in. She was a lovely looking woman, probably in her late twenties and with a gorgeous big bump! 

So I lay down and the sonographer started rubbing some gel on my bump.

She starts and I can see the baby on the monitor straight away. I notice there is (in my opinion) something wrong, but the sonographer looks happy and she explains to the student what she sees. All I can see is that my baby is not actually moving or wriggling around, but it looks more like he/she just moves when the sonographer pushes with her device on my tummy. Then the sonographer becomes quiet, she tells me she's setting the monitor to show some colours so she can see the heart properly, because she's finding hard to hear and find it. She doesn't speak for a time that seemed very long then, but probably it wasn't more than a minute.

Then she turns to me and just says “I'm sorry. Oh I’m so sorry, I can't hear the baby's heartbeat” then she keeps talking, probably just saying that this officially means there isn't a heartbeat to be detected, and explaining I don’t know what. But my brain has gone, I just stand up, and pull up my trousers, I feel as if I'm moving like a robot. She starts telling me that a midwife will come soon to tell me what happened and to see what I want to do, she keeps telling me that she is really sorry, and I can see she is, but her words sound distant. I can't believe it is happening to me. My eyes are full of tears. Alessandro is there with me, in shock, paralyzed by the news but I just feel as if I am just alone in a big black hole.

One word keeps buzzing in my head: dead, dead, dead.

Then arrived the midwife, she led me and Alessandro to another small room with three chairs and a little coffee table; she told me I had a missed miscarriage (why I didn't know then that something like that could happen?) and she explained us which options we had. I listened and I knew I had to decide, but I so wanted someone to decide for me. I so wanted her to tell me “I think the right thing for you would be A, or B or C”. But she couldn’t, and she didn’t.

We left and we were asked to call them back later that day to let them know what was our choice.

I never felt so empty. There was no more reason to keep caressing and rubbing my bump, there was no life in there, my baby’s heart had apparently stopped a week before; so, why, why I didn’t realize? This thought was adding pain to my sorrow.

Back home, we called our families and gave them the bad news, then we called our closest friends and told them too. All of them were waiting for our news. And all I could say was, “Hi… the scan showed there was no heartbeat. We lost our baby.”

I cried with Ale, and he cried with me. I decided I wanted to have a D&C, the shock was already too big, I didn’t want to see my body miscarrying.

Two days after I went to the hospital and my first baby has been taken away; I’ve never seen him or her, I don’t know how tiny he/she was. I don’t even know why he/she left me. And I will never know.

My mum came to stay with me, and even if at the time I told her she didn’t have to, I am so glad she came. Because she is my mum; because she’s been there before me; because there are some things that only a mum can understand.

Family, friends and workmates have been great then and I have never regretted the fact that I said to everybody that I was pregnant when I was only six weeks. If I hadn’t told them it would have been so much harder to go back to work (I could have never gone back pretending that I was off sick for a flu, when I was just crying constantly) to go out and socialize (I just didn’t feel like going out and have fun, so my friend came often to spend some time with us), to call home.

Still sometimes people would say to me “Don’t worry, there will be other pregnancies,” or “You are not the first one, unfortunately it does happen a lot,” “I’m sure next time everything will go well.” I know they meant no harm, but all I thought was “Can they not just tell me ‘I’m really sorry’ or ‘Mourn if you need’, or anything like that.”

I know there can be other pregnancies after a miscarriage (Betta and Tilda are a very lively proof of it!), but a mum is a mum since the moment she finds out she’s pregnant, and the baby inside becomes her new kid there and then. So even if there will be new pregnancies, this doesn’t mean that she can forget of the baby she really wanted but the left her too early because she will have other kids. Would a mum with three kids say “Oh never mind if I lose one, I’ve got the other two!”? No she wouldn’t. And even if it might seem a very silly comparison, believe me, it isn’t so.

I also knew I wasn’t the first one (and unfortunately not even the last one), but this didn’t and still doesn’t make any difference to me.

And hearing people saying to me “Everything will go well next time,” was just as a stab in the back (involuntary, I know) because when you have a miscarriage you cannot help thinking that there might be something wrong, that your body can’t embark on a new pregnancy and so on.

So next time you meet a woman who had a miscarriage, just offer your shoulder and say “I’m sorry.”

                           **************************

And here is the second part of my blog, strictly connected to the first one because four moths after my miscarriage I found out I was pregnant again. I was terrified. I wanted  a baby so badly, but I was so scared to “get involved” and have to suffer so much again (I never ever cried as much as I did when I miscarried, I shouted and yelled while crying). This pregnancy went well, but I started to live it happily only after I was 20 weeks pregnant, and still until the minute Betta was born I was scared that something might go wrong.

So here, as per tradition is Betta’s birth story, as I wrote it a few days after her birth. If you ask me to talk about it now, it would be different because every time I tell her birth story, there is something new. So here you have the original one:

ELISABETTA’s birth story

Elisabetta was born on Wednesday 14th of October 2009 at 5.15 am weighing kg 3.150 (a very good size for a wee thing as I am!) after 3 days of labour.

We didn't have the homebirth we had planned and I ended up having an emergency C-Section.

Still, no need to say, it has been worth it and a unique experience.

I started having irregular contractions on Sunday morning, just a few hours before my mother-in-law arrived from Italy. By Sunday night the contractions were getting "stronger, longer, closer"! I went to bed and the contractions kept coming every 7/10 minutes, I thought I could keep going but my MIL said it was high time to call the hospital so we called the midwife who came at 2). The MW who came verified that mine were "real" contractions, but still I wasn't dilating and she felt that the baby's head was not still properly positioned on my cervix, but slightly tilted. So for the following two days a few midwives kept coming to check me, but things were pretty much the same (just 1cm dilated). On Tuesday morning I went to the hospital and I've been given morphine (another thing I regret now!) just to get some sleep as I hadn't been sleeping for more than 48 hours and I was becoming to feel shattered and very tired (not good if I was going to progress in the following hours).

I went back home in the afternoon, and at 10 pm my mother too arrived from Italy, I was so glad about her arrival; just a few minutes after midnight my waters broke! I realized that they weren't the light colour they should have been so  Alessandro and I decided in no time to go to the hospital (we could have always come back home if everything was fine – or at least this is what I thought at the time).

At the hospital they confirmed that there was some meconium in my waters. I was by then only 3 cm dilated (after more than 48 hours) Then the monitoring started and I’ve been put on the drip, but my little one didn't seem to like it, plus the trace showed that the umbilical cord was twisted somewhere (but didn't Know in which part of her body until she was born). It was around 3.30, and I was having the strongest  contractions ever, and the midwife was surprised on how well I was still coping with them only with yoga breathing and gas and air.

At this point the doctor who had already come before to check my trace, told me that I could get an epidural, but that I wasn't progressing because of the baby's head position, and that I would not progress further. At this point all I wanted was not to distress my baby and to make sure she would be born safely, so I gave my consent for an emergency C-Section. I had and epidural and a spinal, which weren't on my plans obviously, but that lead me in a bit more than an hour to have my wonderful baby!

The umbilical cord was twisted around her leg, but apart from that she was fine!

We've had plenty of skin to skin contact as soon as she has been cleaned and she started to breastfed in less than 5 minutes! So, we didn't have the homebirth we wanted, but the experience was so intense, and I feel so proud that still I managed to go through almost three days of labour just with yoga positions and breathing techniques (got tens but I have to say the didn't work for me). I can’t deny that I still feel upset about that C-section because I know that there are quite a few things that I could have done differently and maybe my labour would have progressed in a different way.

                  ***********************************

Orla's Birth Story

Orla was born on Wednesday 24 July at 6.50 am; her birth story though, starts a good few hours earlier, at least 48 hours earlier.

Orla is E’s and G’s first baby, and my second “doula baby” (even if I feel as if she is my first “doula baby” again, for the path that I had to follow this time).

Orla’s due date was the 22 of July. At 6.50 am on that day, my daughter Elisabetta came into my bedroom to wake me up, telling me it was time to get up, I told her it was a bit early, but she insisted. She was right, 1 minute after I got a text from E, telling me that she started having mild contractions during the night at around 1.30 am, that these were now stronger and closer (15 mins apart) so it would be a good idea to head to hers soon. I had been on call for two weeks already, sleeping with my mobile phone on my bedside table, and when I got the text I obviously thought my daughter had some kind of sixth sense. I got quite excited. I was glad that text arrived just then and not 12 hours earlier because I hadn’t been well! I had breakfast with my family and then texted E to tell her I’d be on my way in half an hour, but contractions had slowed down, so we decided to wait a bit more and I headed to E’s and G’s soon after 9 am.

The morning passed between a chat, some stronger contractions, some music, we had lunch, watched a funny movie together. Contractions were closer but still a bit “uncoordinated” (as we learned to describe them afterwards). E’s midwife (MW), A, who was due to come for a visit that day, called her and came later with a student MW, F. She made the usual checks and they stayed for a couple of hours. The atmosphere was really good, I already knew A because she had been my MW, so staying side by side with someone I knew, while taking care of “my” mum, felt perfect. E was in the very early stages of labour, so A went away advising E to keep doing what she was doing but also to get some rest, because baby wasn’t coming anytime soon (little we knew that she was so right!) and she would need to be rested when the time would come for her to push. While E was resting I had the chance to get to know G a bit better (since we had only met once previously), we watched some TV, we chatted about various things and this was really good. A few hours passed and as the weather was nice, E and G decided it was a good idea to dine in the back garden and have a BBQ (and thanks to them I discovered that I love halloumi). After dinner, as labour looked still quite slow E and G told me I might go home to spend a couple of hours with my daughters and Ale, and so I did. We agreed I would go back to them around 1.30/2 am but I got a text from G at half past midnight telling me that contractions got very close so it would be better to be there ASAP.

I made my way to them. After a while also A and F arrived and stayed with us for a couple of hours.  More than 12 hours had passed from E’s first proper contractions but she was  just 2 cm dilated, even if her contractions were a lot stronger and closer now. A and F left around 4.30 am and told E to go to bed and try to get some proper rest. There was still a long way to go and E was starting to be tired. We all went to bed (wow, my first night away from Betta and Tilda since they were born). I woke up around 7 and half an hour later E and G came downstairs. Contractions were still irregular (or uncoordinated) but still there. E and G went for a walk, and I decided not to join them so that they could have some more “couple time”.

Meanwhile I texted my Doula mentor (bless her for her help!) who gave me some advice on how to help E’s labour. The evening before after dinner I had a chat with E and she told me how she would have loved a bit of rain, “I really like the sound of the rain in the conservatory”, she said, well it looks like the weather God listened to her as a very heavy rain (a proper thunderstorm) started on Tuesday morning after they came home from their walk. I don’t know if it was the rain or the circuit of positions and activities that E was doing to build up her contractions, but her waters broke, and this was a good turning point!

E was beautiful, and even if she was tired she looked beautiful and, as I told her, very young. I couldn’t stop looking at her and thinking she looked a 20 years old girl.

During the time spent with E and G, I texted Ale a few times to know how Betta and Tilda were doing, and he kept giving me great support.

E called the hospital again to say that her waters had broken and an hour after A and F arrived again. A checked E. 3 cm, E was a bit disappointed (who wouldn’t be after all those hours?) but we tried to keep our spirits up, I kept encouraging her, telling her not to think too much of the centimeters (easier said than done, I know!). A few more hours, a few more tunes, some clary sage oil, some food, but labour was still slow. A told E that she could see she was really tired, and as there were still a good few hours to go, it was probably wise to think of going to the hospital, get some diamorphine, rest and then take it from there. Meanwhile though, she said she could go into the birth pool for half an hour before we headed to the hospital. E was really happy about going into the pool.

She had been in labour for more than 30 hours by then, so she agreed in transferring to the hospital. The ambulance came for her and I went to the hospital by car with F.

Once in hospital, A “handed” E to the hospital midwives and she and F left. Every time I meet A I realize what a great woman and midwife she is. And it has been fantastic for me to “work” with her.

Being in a hospital setting is sometimes upsetting for me, but I was there for E and G and I knew I had to put my personal feelings on the matter, aside. I also texted again my mentor to update her, and I could never be grateful enough for her words of support.

E has then been given some diamorphine to help her to sleep. I decided it was wise to leave E and G on their own and headed downstairs. As we had been told she was probably going to sleep for 2/3 hours, G texted me from the ward and told me that if I wanted I might go home for a few hours to stay with my family. I went upstairs, gave G some time to go for a coffee and to get some fresh air and then I left.

It was 4 pm when I left the hospital and we agreed that I would be back for 7pm. I was happy about going home for a few hours. I cannot deny it, whilst I was so glad to be with E and G, I was also missing my girls, and things were taking longer than expected. I think tiredness was starting to kick in for me too (not counting the roller-coaster of emotions)  and during the journey from the hospital to my house, my head was full of thoughts, I thought of what I could do to help E, I thought that (and I don’t even know why I thought it!!) maybe E and G didn’t want me there any more but that they felt bad about telling me, I thought that I didn’t know how much more time I was able to stay, I thought that maybe I hadn’t ben the right support, I thought a million different things (and most of them pretty silly)!

Arriving home to my girls was good; I stopped thinking and just had lots of cuddles. Even if I knew that Betta and Tilda were in dad’s safe hands, still during all the time away, I thought a lot of them, I was missing them, this was the first time they would wake up and I wouldn’t be there (for two days in a row) and I can’t deny I thought of it a lot.

It wasn’t 5pm yet when G called saying if I could go back to the hospital straight away instead of at 7. I got ready to leave in 5 minutes (while my daughters kept asking me if I was going to “see a baby being born”). I then saw that G had also texted me to say that they needed me there ASAP. I think I will never delete that text from my phone: all my silly thoughts about them not wanting me and me not offering the right support just disappeared.

E had been checked at 4.45 and since her contractions worked well while she was trying to rest, she was now 4 to 5 cm dilated, and she was transferred to the labor ward. Her baby heartbeat was fine and she was doing well without induction, so she got the room with the birth pool, and I was so happy when I arrived there and heard the sound of the water filling up the birth pool, things were taking a good turn. She was due to be checked again at 8.45. She spent some time in the pool and some time out, the warm water was making her sleepy, so we kept chatting, listening to music, drinking tea (not E though), etc. At 8 pm the new MW came in, and even if I didn’t dislike the first MW who was with us, the new arrival was like fresh air for me (or maybe for all of us). She has been a fantastic help, really supporting and so caring. E used gas & air during all this time, and it was at some points even funny to see how she wanted to make sure that it was always within arm’s reach.

At 8.45 pm E was 6/7 cm. Without induction. It was taking a long time for her body to open, but contractions were working. The doctor agreed on giving E another couple of hours to get to full dilation. Her next check would have been at 10.45 pm.

More time passed and E rested a bit, stood, walked, danced with G; She was really doing everything she could to help things to progress naturally.

At 10.45 E was 8 cm. She was tired, but keen to keep going after almost 48 hours from her first mild contractions; she was getting really close to see her baby.

The atmosphere in the room was great, the MW was cheerful and supportive, I like to think of her as the perfect “auntie”. She was nice and, as also G and myself, she believed in E’s capacity to birth vaginally.

E’s next check was now at 00.45 am. She was 9 cm. There was a rim that prevented the baby’s head to move, and baby wasn’t in the right position. She was transverse.

Induction was the next step. The syntocinon drip was started to help E to progress but when she was checked again at 2.45 the baby was still transverse and she hadn’t reached 10cm.

E was getting really tired. And so G and I. The doctor came in and told E that although the trace showed that the baby was totally fine, her contractions kept being uncoordinated and she would recommend her to go for a C-section. I shivered. I don’t love hospitals, and I have very strong feelings related to C- section (even if sometimes surgery is life saving, I still have my opinion). E asked if we could a few minutes on our own to have a chat, doctor agreed, but she wanted to be sure that we had all understood that her recommendation was to go for a C-section. When the doctor came back in E asked her for some more time and doctor agreed, saying that if things weren’t any better though it was her firm belief that she should go for a section. Doctor gave E another hour.

When the doctor left I went to the toilet and had a good cry. The word C-section had been said, I felt I was letting down E. I felt that if the system was failing her, we should do something to prevent it. I have been there and know how hard it is for many women to emotionally deal with a C-section, during and after the baby’s birth. Even so, I was there to give (and giving) my full support to Elaine, no matter what she decided to do.

E was really discouraged by now. She asked the MW if she could check her rather than waiting on the doctor again, but the MW said it was better not to. E then asked to be off the drip, it was becoming too painful for her, and she was already sure they’d take her for a section no matter what. I know the feeling, and I couldn’t believe this was happening. When the MW told E that she would still leave the cannulae in her hand, “just in case”, E, answered that she was going to need it (meaning that she thought she was going to have a C-section). I told E that she wouldn’t need it, but she answered, “Yes I will need it.” It is at this point that I really felt G and I had joined forces to really support E in the best way ever. Even if we were getting tired too. Even if G was feeling dizzy for the sleep deprivation. I “annoyed” E asking her to stay on all fours or on her left side to help the baby to get into the right position. I knew that probably E was thinking these were all useless things, and I was maybe even risking getting on her nerves. But I felt as if she was giving up and I knew, because she had told me, what she wanted from childbirth, I knew how hard she had been working in the past two days, and I knew that I would have never forgiven myself if I hadn’t been a bit “pushy”. 3.45 am came and went, the doctor was in theatre so she couldn’t be with us for another hour probably. That hour luckily became almost two hours, and when the doctor arrived after 5am and checked her, E was 10 cm, but the baby was still transverse, so we negotiated for another hour. After that, the doctor was adamant, there had to be a C-section. 7 am was the limit. The doctor had given her another hour to push.

The MW said things could go well, but E needed to be on the drip, because even if she was 10 cm the baby wouldn’t get in the right position since her contractions had slowed down. E wasn’t very happy about it, and in her mind she was still ending up in theatre. Again after a chat among E, G and I, E said she would go on the drip again, but she didn’t want a high dose because it was too sore. I went to speak to the MW, who agreed on keeping the dose slightly lower, but not as low as E wanted. She has been truly honest to me, and this helped me a lot in giving the right support in that exact moment, to E. I saw G giving her not only the love that a husband feels for his wife, but giving her really the perfect support at this stage. She couldn’t have done it without him.

Half an hour after the baby’s head was in the right position and E felt she wanted to push. MW agreed, and asked E to give all she could.

I have read and I know that “it is good to keep a very calm and relaxed atmosphere” when a mother is giving birth, but what E wanted was strong encouragement. And I think that at this point G and I really gave her our best, we supported every push telling her to keep going, and the MW prompted us to do it even more. These words might sound strange referred to a labour room, but for a moment I felt as if G, the MW and I were a crowd of football fans, supporting their team during penalties (can’t keep my love for football too hidden, can I?). And E scored all of them! She started pushing at 6.05 am and at 6.50 am Orla was born. The excitement in the air only a second after her birth is indescribable, oxytocin was definitely everywhere.

I couldn’t hold my tears any more, I wanted to cry out loud some hours before when she had been told to go for a section, but it wouldn’t have been helpful at all. Now I could let my joyful tears run freely.

Orla was perfect, and absolutely one of the most beautiful newborns I have ever seen. She cried straight away. E had immediate skin-to-skin with her (and it has been so heartwarming to see E quickly getting rid of her gown to share with her baby those wonderful first moments), and she latched on within seconds. It looked as if Orla had done it before. We were happy and excited, even the midwife who, as she told me before, had seen thousand of babies being born.

Baby was checked, pictures were taken and the doctor came to congratulate the new parents.

It was time for me to leave. Time to let E, G and Orla start their wonderful life as a family, and enjoy their babymoon. 

I feel blessed. I do.

Because I have witnessed again the miracle of childbirth.

Because I have had once more the proof that with the right support a woman can give birth how she dreams to.

Because I have witnessed the great love of a husband for her wife.

Because I have seen a woman giving all she could, and even more, to bring her child into this world in the best possible way.

Because I’ve seen this woman dealing with pain for two full days and never complaining about it, not a single time.

Because I’ve seen her almost giving up and then still fighting for what she wanted.

Because I’ve seen her wonderful smile when she has seen her daughter for the first time.

Because I’ve seen the tears of joy of Orla’s dad.

Because I’ve learned (even more) how much I love my family, and how important is my husband to me. 

Because I have been chosen to be there, and this experience has taught me so much.

Vivi and the others - Vivi e le altre

Vivi and the others are Viviana, Roberta, Loredana, Shila.
Vivi and the others are a bunch of mums.
Mums of different ages.
Mums of different backgrounds.
Mums of different nationalities.
Mums I love!
They are all women I would have never ever met if it wasn't for my two daughters, all women I met during pregnancy yoga,  toddlers groups, trips to the park. All women I met because I was pregnant and a mum, but that soon became more than "mum friends", they became real friends. Friends I meet also without kids, friends with whom I go out for a drink and talk of nappies, sleep deprivation, tantrums, but also about politics, love, sex, life, work and other serious or silly things.
Often when you are pregnant everybody out there tells you your life will completely change, and you might lose some friends, or you might see them a lot less.
Well, there is something true and something false in that statement: becoming a parent really changes your life, but this doesn't mean the change is bad. And, if your old friends are good friends (just like mine are) you won't lose them, you will still see them. And the good news is, you will also make new friends, friends you would have never ever met, if it wasn't for your kids.
Friends like Vivi and the others.


Vivi e le altre sono Viviana, Roberta, Loredana, Shila.
Vivi e le altre sono un gruppo di mamme.
Mamme di diverse età.
Mamme con un passato diverso.
Mamme di diverse nazionalità.
Mamme a cui voglio un bene infinito.
Sono tutte donne che non avrei mai incontrato se non fosse per le mie due figlie, tutte donne che ho conosciuto durante le lezioni di yoga per la gravidanza, gruppi di gioco per bimbi piccoli, gite al parco. Tutte donne che ho incontrato perché ero, prima, una donna incinta e poi sono diventata mamma, ma che presto sono diventate più che delle semplici "mamme amiche", sono diventate amiche vere.
Amiche che incontro anche senza i bambini al seguito, amiche con cui esco a bere la sera e e con le quali parlo di pannolini, carenza di sonno, capricci, ma anche di politica, di amore, di sesso, di vita, di lavoro e altre cose, serie o meno.
Spesso quando sei incinta tutti ti dicono che la tua vita cambierà completamente, che potresti perdere degli amici, o se non altro vederli molto meno.
Beh, c'è qualcosa di vero e qualcosa di falso in questa affermazione: diventare genitore ti cambia davvero la vita, ma questo non significa che il cambiamento sia in peggio. E, se i tuoi vecchi amici sono buoni amici (come i miei!), non li perderai, li vedrai ancora. E la buona notizia è che troverai dei nuovi amici, amici che non avresti mai incontrato, se non fosse per i tuoi bambini.
Amici come Vivi e le altre.

Celebrating birthday and birth day

I'll probably keep doing this for ever. Post Matilda's birth story at every birthday. Because birthdays and birth-days (which are for me the celebration of mums giving birth) should always be celebrated.
So here you have Tilda's birth story, just as I wrote it for my pregnancy yoga friends. We used to send around our birth stories and I think this is an amazing thing.

Baby Matilda was born Monday 21st of February at 2.54 am, weighing kg 3.164 (7 lbs). We are doing fine and now at one week she has already put on 400 grams!

But let's get to my birth story. For the second time we ended up with a C-Section, but this time it's been a lot less upsetting than last time.

I had had some very random contractions since Wednesday, but Sunday at 3am, I woke up because of the pain of contractions. I called the hospital at 9 am and an hour after the midwife Anne was at mine. She checked me and I was only 1cm dilated, so she told me that my body was behaving like this was a first pregnancy, but that she was sure I'd been in touch very soon again, so she left and I just kept going, used breathing and yoga positions. Had a lovely lunch with my husband, my daughter and my mum. Then at 4 pm my waters went (and it was Niagara falls again like in my previous labour), so I called the hospital and my Doula - Lindsey - and in less than an hour both, her and the MW,  were here. 

From then until 11.30 pm we've been home, I've kept breathing and used two full canisters of gas and air!!! Had some massage done by my husband and my doula in turn (Lindsey used clary sage oil and I loved it!) , we've been chatting together when I wasn't contracting of course, and we tried to keep the environment as quiet as possible. I've also been vocalising my pain through some vowels, and some mooing, and it was really good! My little daughter was allowed to come in and out of the room, and I was so happy about it: during some contractions she would imitate me breathing and this was filling me up and keeping my morale hour after hour.

At 10.30 pm we decided to have another examination and I was only 4 cm dilated by then and starting to feel exhausted. During the vaginal examination my unborn baby grabbed the MW finger!!! She was amazed, but said her hand was in a strange position. We then decided to go to the hospital, where I should have been offered an epidural. When I got into the hospital we talked about this option and decided to go for it, but we had to wait for an hour because the anaesthetist was already in theatre

I was monitored by then, and after a while my baby's heartbeat went down, so the doctor came and said that it was better to have a C-section. I really wanted a vaginal birth this time, but there is no shame in changing our minds, and what we all wanted then was to meet our baby and make sure she was fine.

So at around 2.30 I've been taken into the theatre and Matilda was born at 2.54 am. 

All in all I feel great this time, I did all I could and have been labouring at mine for as long as it has been safe to do so, I've had the help of three fantastic persons (my husband, my Doula and the midwife), and had the C-section when really there was nothing else that could have been done.

We stayed in hospital for three days, and are now settling very well, breastfeeding is well established and Elisabetta is doing fine with her new sister, plus it feels great to be a mum of two.

There are probably a few things I feel different about now, but that was the story then, and that is how I like to remember it.