Expect the Unexpected

Beth Kiely - 19 Mar 16

Eight years ago, I was completely blown away by one of the most beautiful experiences I have had in my life. I witnessed the birth of my nephew.
My sister gave birth naturally, in just a few hours, with only gas and air to help her. As her baby decided to make his appearance when the midwife had left the room and my brother-in-law was busy holding my sister’s hand, I was the first person to see my nephew enter the world. It was a moment I will never forget.
From then on, every episode of One Born Every Minute made me cry and when I fell pregnant two years ago, I was one of those annoying mums who loved every second of it and was actually looking forward to giving birth.
It would be a spiritual experience. My partner and I would shed tears of joy and I would envelope my naked baby in my arms and witness ‘The Miracle Hour’ (I’d found out about ‘The Miracle Hour’ at my NCT classes and found it amazing. I still do. If you haven’t been told about it, it’s worth googling.)
Then, near the end of my pregnancy, I found out that my baby was breech. A consultant at hospital confirmed that a c-section was likely to be the safest option for me.
I knew it shouldn’t have been a problem for me and that keeping my baby safe was what mattered, not how she came out, but I got home and burst into tears anyway.
In the weeks that followed, I spent time sitting and lying in strange positions that were supposed to encourage the baby to turn and tried to get my head around the fact that giving birth wasn’t going to be the experience I’d hoped it would be.
Two days before my due date; after a rare decent night’s sleep, my waters broke. I was examined when I arrived at the hospital and as the baby hadn’t turned and was tucked up too high for a natural birth to be a safe option, nurses began to prepare for my c-section.
My husband got into his scrubs and I lay back on the operating table, looking up at the ceiling while the doctors got on with delivering the baby. She was a stubborn little thing and didn’t want to come out so there was a lot of tugging before she finally arrived.
Although they were wonderful, the moments immediately after she was born weren’t what I imagined they would be. The midwife bought my baby over to me swaddled in a purple blanket. I couldn’t hold her because of the intravenous drips on my arms, but she was placed on my chest and I thought she was just perfect.
However, no tears were shed and I wasn’t overcome by a previously unknown love in the way that so many people had told me I would be. I felt indescribable relief that my baby had arrived safely and completely overwhelmed that I was responsible for this tiny helpless bundle of life; this actual person.
The midwife took some photos for us and I was stitched back together and wheeled out of theatre. I then enjoyed some brief skin to skin contact with my baby while she had her first breastfeed and cuddle.
That night she slept well and so did I.
The next morning I got out of bed and passed out. This continued to happen each time I tried to stand up for the next 72 hours. A consultant assured me everything was fine. It was just that my body needed time to recover from the operation. I had to buzz for help whenever my baby needed to be fed so that a midwife could pass her to me.
On my second night, I ended up frustrated and in tears because, as I explained to the midwife who answered the buzzer, I hadn’t even been able to change my baby’s nappy yet and I didn’t have the strength to pick her up. The patient midwife pointed out that my baby was fine and that it was important that I rested after major surgery.
She was right of course. In no time at all, my partner and I were headed home. From then on, it was just the two of us and our baby.
15 months later, I now know it didn’t matter that I couldn’t give birth naturally or that my baby missed out on skin to skin contact during ‘The Miracle Hour’ after she was born. She turned out to be an expert when it came to both breastfeeding and skin to skin time. In fact, she is proving to be really tricky to wean. And if she’s ill or tired, she still pulls up my jumper or undoes my shirt so that she can cuddle up to me skin to skin (Now, often to my annoyance as this mainly happens at 4:30 am!)
15 months later, do I love her in that way that people told me I would? Of course. I love her crooked smile (I mean crooked. When she smiles, she has an under bite but I find it totally endearing). I love her cry. I love the way she toddles around. I love the way she eats. I love how she sings out of tune (The one way in which she takes after me). I love everything about her. It’s just that this love has shown itself at different times and in different ways to how I expected it to.
15 months later, I know that I definitely shouldn’t have worried about being unable to change my baby’s nappies when I was in hospital. I’ll do anything to get out of that job now.
15 months later, my daughter has challenged and changed me in so many ways. What she looks like, her mannerisms, her sleeping patterns, her personality; everything has surprised me and just as I get used to something, it all changes again. When trying to prepare for parenthood, I spent hours reading up on how to give birth, breastfeed, get my baby to sleep etc. I focused on me and what I needed to do to be a good mum but while she was still in my womb; happily growing sunny side up, my unborn baby wasted no time in letting me know that I’m not the only one who decides anymore.
15 months later, my advice to expecting parents would be get ready to unlearn everything you thought you knew. That little life growing inside you is about to turn your world upside down in the most indescribable but amazing way. Babies are brilliant at letting you know what they need. Listen to them, trust your instincts and enjoy the adventure that they will definitely be taking you on.

Beth Kiely

Mother to Alice. Teacher to 30 primary school children. I miss sleep and being able to leave the house with just my keys and bank card. I hate doing the laundry so much that I've tried to persuade my partner to become a naturist (I think Alice is already up for it. She loves running around naked). I love watching my daughter fall asleep. She sometimes smiles as she drifts off. It melts me.

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