BIRTH

Why am I so obsessed with birth? As a doula, I’m allowed to admit that I am – I am TOTALLY obsessed with all things pregnancy, labour and birth.

Mum with Mark (and her magnificent beehive!)

For as long as I can remember, every year on our birthdays, my Mum has retold our birth stories. That means, for as long as I can remember, I have been told four birth stories a year. All of the births were very different, starting with my brother Mark, when my Mum was just twenty years old.  She went into labour but didn’t want to miss the Beatles on TV so held off until after the show. She was then left alone in a hospital room to labour, no partner, no parents, just Mum and an occasional midwife. She was very scared and didn't know what was going on but she never made any complaint - that was how birth was in the 60s - and she always told the tale with excitement and love for this first baby.

Mum & Dad with Nicholas (nice turtleneck dad!)

Nick was a long awaited baby; born three years after Mum & Dad started trying. Early in her second trimester, Mum was told that she had contracted Rubella in early pregnancy and she may not keep the baby. She had to have continual scans every couple of weeks while they checked the development of the baby until being given the all-clear around 18 weeks. Late in pregnancy Mum was given a routine internal examination by her consultant – a man with the “boniest fingers” she’d ever felt – who hurt her and made her bleed. In hospital they suspected a low-lying placenta for which she was whipped into surgery and checked, being told that she would either come out of it with a C-section or her waters broken, depending on whether the placenta was there or not. Mum was convinced it was the consultant who had done something to her and Nick was born five hours after they broke her waters.

Mum and Chris (and Sheba. And some nice flares)

Chris was an unexpected surprise when Nick was only a few months old. Having had difficulties to conceive, my parents didn’t think a second one would come so easily :) Mum had high blood pressure in the last couple of weeks of pregnancy and was put on hospital bedrest. In hospital she again had a routine internal examination, where the doctor chuckled and told her he’d just given her a little ‘twiddle’ with his magic fingers... That night Mum woke up at midnight with a massive pain. One minute later she had another. Another minute, another pain. The nurse on call was chatting up the doctor on shift and wouldn’t believe that she was in labour. She eventually gave her an enema (as was routine practice) and as Mum was on the toilet, the baby started to crown. She was whipped into the delivery suite quick smart and Dad missed the birth (not helped by aforementioned nurse failing to call him as she hadn’t believed Mum was in labour). Chris was born 50 minutes after that first contraction.

Then there was me. Mum was in hospital for the last month of pregnancy with high blood pressure. I wasn’t growing and she was on strict bed rest. She was let out just before my due date then five days later went into early labour – the only labour where she was sick in the early stages. After Chris’s dramatic entrance, they rushed into hospital and everything stopped. Dad went home, a foetal monitor was attached and she was told the baby was in distress. “Nonsense” my Mum replied, “there is nothing wrong with my baby” :) They told her she had been in labour too long and would have to go on the drip. After Dad had missed my brothers’ birth, Mum refused to move until he turned up. She was put on a drip at 2.30pm and I was born two hours later… “Have you thought of a name?” asked the midwife, “Lindsey” Mum replied, “What if it’s a boy?”…

“If it’s a boy, you can push it back”.

Mum and Me!

These are the stories of my childhood, teenage years and now adulthood. I love hearing the stories, all of them so different, all of them so filled with excitement and love. No traumatic, horrible birth stories for me. I was brought up believing that birth hurt like hell but was something that had to be done because the minute that baby came out, the pain was totally forgotten.

From L-R: Chris, Mum, Me and Nick

When I became pregnant with Thomas, I had all of these stories swimming around my head. I craved knowledge of all things labour and birth. I was so excited! I did yoga and Hypnobirthing and read and read and read. I wanted a home birth. I didn’t want this, I did want that. I researched EVERYTHING. I knew about everything. What I didn’t know was that even with all the knowledge in the world, labour and birth is something beyond your control, to an extent.

First photo of Thomas :)

I had a brilliant labour and birth with Thomas, supported by my beloved husband and my amazing mother, and it was an empowering, magical experience. I would do it again in a second. Good job too, seeing as I’ll be doing it again in December!

Hello Grandma! Where am I? I'm scared!

It wasn’t ‘perfect’, it didn’t all go according to ‘the plan’, and this is what I have since learnt. Ditch the plan, have a list of birth preferences. If there is anything you feel really strongly about, put it in BIG LETTERS. Here are my thoughts for my next list of birth preferences:

• DO NOT EVEN CONSIDER TALKING TO ME ABOUT INDUCTION.
• DO NOT TOUCH MY VAGINA.
• DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES CUT THE CORD.

I’ll keep you posted on how well I stick to them :)



This post was written for week 68 of The Gallery, hosted by Tara at Sticky Fingers. The theme was "birth" so I couldn't resist!

Motherly love

This is my post for Tara's Gallery this week - the subject "Mother Love".




This time two years ago, David was in the US and I came down South to leave a four-month old Thomas with his grandparents overnight while I went to Prague for a conference. My heart wept. I had spent 4.5 months on maternity leave, my world revolved around this little creature and here I was, abandoning him when he needed me!

Now, two years later, David is in the US and I am down South. Tomorrow I head to Brussels on the Eurostar for three days, same conference, Thomas is two years and four months. My heart isn't weeping this time, I'm much more relaxed and know he will have a ball with mama and dada :)

And I know when I come home he will still love me the best!

[although he might not speak to me for a little while...]

The Gallery - An Education

I wasn't going to join in The Gallery this week, too busy to think anything but work - although I guess being a lecturer I could have just posted random images of a work day... - anyway, I didn't and then I remembered I had this. Plus there is a whole old school theme going on so it seemed quite apt! Maybe when I go back to my folks I will get all of my old photos and scan them in and write a blog about life through the eyes of a school photo!



I think I was 6 in this photo. Note the asymmetrical haircuts we all possess. This would be one of the few photos of me wearing anything vaguely girly. I lived in my brothers' cast-off Incredible Hulk and Spiderman t-shirts and denim shorts. My mum used to be so sad that after three boys I wasn't a girly girl! We still lived in Wales at this point and I didn't have a Welch accent... although my older brother was nicknamed Taffy when we moved to England so maybe there was an accent there. I don't have so many memories of Wales; there are the family stories [crazy dogs, running naked, breaking my brothers' arm], the woods behind the house where I could clamber over to my friends' house, my dad taking us for 'spends' every Saturday morning, falling off my bike and scraping the skin off my arms, crying to my mum and telling her I didn't want to leave. We left when I was 8 years old and one week old. We moved to England, where I lived, in various places, for the next 22 years.

I love my brothers. And in case my oldest brother reads this and feels left out [I have three!], I'm going to find a photo of him from school and scan it in too. I'm pretty sure his haircut was *really* trendy in its day :D

Today...

I took a proper photo of trees!







I also realised how much Thomas loves his friends...



How much fun can be had on the days that mummy doesn't work!

The Gallery - One Word... Scotland

This is my post for The Gallery this week...

Before I went for my job interview in Glasgow I'd never been to Scotland. I feel bad about that because it's not that hard to cross the border from England to Scotland, but I had never had a reason. I moved to Glasgow and was immediately welcomed by all the amazing people I met. People were so friendly and I felt like I had found somewhere I could truly belong. Now, four and a half years later, I find myself starting to reminisce. Because we're leaving. The Welch family will be uprooting and resettling in Maryland in the summer of 2011, new times ahead!

Moving to Glasgow was a turning point to me. I met David (not in Scotland, at a conference in Krakow!). He moved to Glasgow to be with me. We got married. We were insanely lucky to have Thomas. I met mummy friends. I became a doula. I met doula friends. I discovered photography and through that I found blogging and suddenly I found myself with a whole new set of friends. So many things have happened to me!

So, one word, Scotland. It was going to be Glasgow. But Glasgow is just one part of this amazing country which I am privileged to live in. Most of my photos are Glasgow-based, but there are a few which aren't :)

This is the street in which I live. It doesn't look like much, but these tenement flats hold a whole host of individuals, families, old people, young people. I love it. I hate my upstairs neighbour (anyone on Facebook or Twitter will be well aware of this!), but I love my old neighbours next door, and the young people upstairs, and the families on the street and the general sense of community I feel every time I walk down my road.

Loch Lomond. I work at a University which has a house on the banks of Loch Lomond. You go to a meeting and walk into the grounds and this is what you see.

The Isle of Cumbrae. Anyone who lives on the West of Scotland knows Millport and the Isle of Cumbrae. A ferry ride from the mainland and easy to cycle around. Brilliant.

Queens Park on Glasgow's South Side. 5 minutes away from me, many many many many hours spent here during the summer on maternity leave. Still a great place to wander around. Churches, a lake (sorry - a pond, so I'm told), a duck pond, the Glasshouse (free soft play and plants and reptiles), two play parks, a viewing point, tennis courts. Fabulous.

Thomas likes the play parks best...

Heads of Ayr farm park. Not Glasgow, Ayr. I only discovered it two weeks before it closed for winter last year. I WILL be back this year! Animals, rides, playgrounds, massive outdoor trampolines... all on the West coast of Scotland.

My doula friends. There aren't many of us in the West of Scotland. These ladies have made me feel like I am really part of something special. From all walks of life we have come together for one reason, to support women and their families. I love them.

Thomas. Thomas was born in Glasgow. Just like I was born in Wales, he will also feel a part of this place. I'm really glad about that because it is a truly fantastic place to be*.

*just a bit cold