In HuffPost’s Birth Diaries we hear the extraordinary stories of the everyday miracle of birth. This week, Nneka Opara shares her story. If you’d like to share yours, email amy.packham@huffpost.com.
When I first heard about coronavirus earlier this year, while pregnant, I wasn’t that worried. I thought it was bad flu or something – not the end of the world.
As things went on, of course, I knew I was wrong. I was 39 weeks when they said pregnant women were at risk, cautioning us about going outside. I was self-employed, just beginning my maternity leave, and the worry started to sink in. It was really scary – quite unnerving, to be honest – as I slowly read more about it. I became cautious, on high alert. I realised how serious it all was.
At that point, there were rumours that lockdown was coming, so I called the hospital. They said their policy was to allow a birth partner in with you – but that it might change. The thought of going through labour alone was terrifying.
My labour was bang on time, the day after my due date. I’d been doing everything I could to induce my baby before lockdown: walking around the neighbourhood, eating spicy food, whatever it took. And when it came on – intense, painful contractions – I went straight into hospital.
When I went in at 2.30am, I was already 2cm dilated. The maternity ward was calm – they were going a good job and it was pretty much business as usual, only with lots of hand gel. But we were in our own little bubble. My last baby had taken three days, so I wasn’t expecting a quick labour, but I soon realised that was the way it was going to go.
The pain was bad. It was so intense. I’d had an epidural with my daughter but there was no time for that with my son. At one point they thought about sending me back home while my labour progressed, but I was in so much pain I asked a midwife to check me. She did, screamed, paged someone, and I was straight on the way to the delivery suite. She’d seen the top of my baby’s head.
I was so thankful they allowed my partner in with me – I know people after me haven’t got that – but he was there throughout. Everything happened so fast. I pushed several times and my son was born at 5.30am, just three hours after arriving at the hospital.
“They were eager to get people out as quick as possible, trying to discharge them”
They immediately did checks on me and my baby, and we stayed in overnight. But but could tell they were eager to get people out as quick as possible from the maternity ward – trying to discharge them. It wasn’t like that last time.
I left on Friday morning, just as the UK was shutting down. When I got out, it became clear I’d been fairly removed from everything in the ward. I walked out of hospital and it was chaotic. A woman screamed at me to cover the baby’s face. “There’s a virus,” she shouted. It was a completely different atmosphere to when I walked in, where everyone has gone out of their way to make sure there wasn’t that sense of panic.
As I arrived home, I put on the TV and saw the madness unravelling. We were at home, with our son, when we heard the lockdown announcement. And it was then that the realisation kicked in. No school for my daughter, no mum and baby groups to avoid being alone. Just knowing that I wouldn’t have that normality. I was checking mine and my son’s temperature for a week after we came out, nervous we’d been in hospital where so many coronavirus cases had been.
Having a newborn in this pandemic is strange. I can’t think how to describe it. My hormones have been all over the place, up and down, and I’ve had to step back from the news. It can be anxiety inducing. It comes and goes in waves. But I’m happy to have my son with me at home, bonding with his daughter. That, at least, is very sweet to see.