‘I could see him in the mirror. I reached down and pulled him out’

In Tales from the Labour Ward, Jennifer O’Dwyer and 14 other great mothers give us their good, bad and downright surreal experiences of giving birth

IT took my husband three years to confess that actually he thought I had been something of a drama queen during labour. During pregnancy, I had attended the pre-natal classes at Holles Street and had fallen under the spell of enthusiasm for a drug-free labour. Given that during the class, when the actual nuts and bolts of labour were discussed, I had to leave the room to go lie on the ground with my legs up against the wall for fear of fainting, this seems in retrospect overly ambitious. Within minutes of entering Holles Street, all thoughts of avoiding painkillers had been abandoned. It was at this point that I screamed “I can’t do this” (hence the drama queen accusations), then a mere half a centimetre dilated. I now realise I had the easiest labour of all time. Pethidine was administered, and the head midwife on the labour ward agreed to write on my form that I could come back at any time for the epidural if I would only give the pre-labour ward a go. A veil should be drawn over that particular experience, suffice it to say.

Back in the labour ward, I had the most wonderful midwife who told me she wouldn’t even consider going through this without medication. It was exactly the support I needed at that moment and for a week afterwards, I wanted to name our daughter after her. Twelve hours after we entered the hospital, Sarah was born, and as they placed her on my chest, making funny squeaking noises, I remember thinking “a lifetime of Christmases in one”.