In HuffPost Birth Diaries we hear the extraordinary stories of the everyday miracle of birth. This week, Karen Packham shares her story. If you’d like to share yours, email amy.packham@huffpost.com.
I was born at home by the light of the midwife’s bicycle lamp while my dad was downstairs trying to fix the fuse. Maybe I should’ve taken that as an omen that my births weren’t going to be straightforward. You see, daughter number two appeared unexpectedly on the evening of my baby shower – five weeks early.
The day itself was pretty uneventful. It was my last week at work, and my colleagues and I were heading to Café Rouge that evening as a farewell before the baby arrived. I still had five weeks to go at this point, but I’d decided to treat myself to four weeks off before my due date. Trekking into central London had been exhausting, particularly because it was a hot summer and I’d been physically sick for the first five months. I needed, and deserved, the rest.
Shortly after my main course, around 8pm, I felt like I was suffering from a little ‘leakage’, so I went to the loo. But as I started walking downstairs, I realised it wasn’t my squashed bladder causing a problem. My waters had broken.
I ran back to let everyone know, and as the waiters rushed to sort out the bill, two colleagues who’d had children themselves worked out who could accompany me to hospital. The others? Well, they were clearly doing their best not to get involved!
Our first taxi driver was delighted to be running an emergency delivery service – as long as I sat on my jacket to keep the seat dry. However, when we walked into the hospital’s reception, they calmly handed us a map showing us where the maternity unit was... half a mile away. Back out on the street, my colleague hailed taxi number two, who eventually dropped us at a T-junction and pointed out the correct building just a few yards away.
Except that wasn’t the right one either.
The final stage involved walking two blocks to the wing of the maternity unit –me soaking wet, holding my belly. By the time we reached the right place, it was 8.45pm. Luckily they had a spare bed and I was admitted straightaway, with the promise that if tests showed labour hadn’t started, I was safe to go home. Yet, the minute I laid down on the bed and they strapped on the monitor, the first contraction happened. I wasn’t going anywhere.
Meanwhile at home, my husband was trying to sort childcare for our daughter before coming to the hospital. Once he’d managed to get hold of my mum, he packed a bag of things he thought I’d need and headed straight over.
His next challenge, of course, was finding the hospital – not the easiest of tasks as we’d already established – and a nearby parking space in the dark back streets of London. At 10.40pm, he made it – at which point the midwife told my friend there was no point waiting as I wouldn’t give birth “for hours”.
Twenty minutes later, my daughter was ready to make an appearance. My contractions whacked up a notch, I felt the urge to push, and Juliette was born – flying onto the bed in just one push as the midwife rang the bell to call for a second pair of hands. She was beautiful. She wasn’t huge, at 5lb 10oz, but she was a good weight for her age.
When you have a premature baby, they back plot their measurements for up to two years, giving them a chance to catch up with their peers in terms of weight and height. Juliette was so chubby, they signed her off after a year. By the time she started playgroup, there was nothing to show she’d been a ‘premmie’. The only disadvantage was that her early birth had moved her into an earlier school year, as she was born right at the end of August instead of early October.
I’ll never forget the craziness of that birth – ending the evening of my baby shower with a newborn in my arm, instead of presents.
My birth advice?
Get your hospital bag packed really early and put it somewhere that people can find it, with a list showing anything that needs to be added (such as a toothbrush). You’re going to need it anyway, so don’t wait until the final month to get it ready. And carry your hospital notes with you from early on.