Birth in Suburbia, Carol Falaki [electronic reader .TXT] 📗

/> He made himself and Maggie a cheese and tomato sandwich, and a cup of tea. Then he fetched the cards from the dining room. They tried playing snap at the kitchen table, and it was a bit of a farce. Two kings were laid on the top of the pile, which constituted at least three-quarters of the pack. Liz had a contraction. She protested vehemently when she missed the snap. Maggie complained too. Her focus had been on Liz, and when to start with the next massage.
“It’s not fair,” Liz cried. “How am I supposed to snap, and concentrate on keeping relaxed through the pain?”
They carried on anyway and passed another half hour of her labour, before they gave it up.
Maggie made Liz a hot water bottle, which she held closely against her lower abdomen. It was difficult to keep in place during a contraction, especially when she was leaning forward, but Leo tried to hold it there for her and the effort was worthwhile because the warmth of it helped to ease Liz’s pain.
By the time Rachel came back Leo was massaging Liz’s sacrum.
“Hey you’re good at that,” Rachel said, watching how he applied pressure to Liz’s sacrum at the start of the contraction. He kept it up until the pain subsided.
“This is great,” Leo said, “I can remember lots of the stuff we learned at the class. Keep those shoulders low Liz.” He said when another contraction started.
Rachel wondered about Leo, but said nothing. She knew that Liz lived with her mum and dad, and had left her partner. At first she thought that this was her partner returned, but Liz introduced Leo as her old school friend. Watching him with Liz, it became apparent to Rachel that he was, indeed, a true friend. He was thoughtful and considerate towards Liz, and supported her as well as any doula.
Rachel had brought her student Gemma with her. Although Gemma had been on night duty, and was
tired, she had not had the opportunity to see a home birth yet, and had left her number with Rachel with a request to be called.
Rachel called Liz earlier to ask permission to bring Gemma and Liz didn’t mind at all. She had already met Gemma at antenatal clinic.
It was now four o’clock and Liz was beginning to wonder whether the TENS was having any effect at all. This was getting awful. She wasn’t sure how long she could cope for. The contractions were coming every couple of minutes. The time without a contraction was only equal to the time with one. She had even been ratty with Leo, who took it all in his stride. He knew this was expected, the midwife had talked about it in class.
He and Maggie took turns with the massage, which was hard work in itself, but nothing could compare with the work that Liz was doing, and Liz was getting tired of trying to cope. Concentrating on watching and accepting her contractions was becoming increasingly difficult and she was just worn out.
Rachel regularly listened in to the baby’s heartbeat, and it was fine.
For Gemma, after watching women in labour in hospital, being with Liz in labour at home was like arriving at a holiday destination at siesta time. It was lovely being there. There was so much she felt she should be doing; only she had to wait. So she watched
and waited, absorbing the differences between hospital and home. She was used to intervention, equipment and clock watching. Here, though, everything seemed to be going at a slower pace, and that took a bit of getting used to. She and Rachel were waiting, not really doing much, or so it seemed to her.
However, it was no siesta for Liz. She was working harder than she had ever done in her life before. The contractions had been building gradually and now they were relentless and unbearable. One after the other they came and went, hardly giving her time to recover. She was aware of a voice, her mum’s.
“Try not to tense up, allow it to happen, breathe out slowly.”
Liz felt like shouting, I’m trying. I’m doing my best, but she knew her mum was right, it did hurt more if she tensed up, but it was so difficult not to, not when you could feel the contraction coming. Anticipation created fear of the pain. It was too easy to tense up to prepare yourself.
“It’s just my cervix; it’s just my baby,” she told herself over and over, and tried to focus her attention on a knot in the pine floorboard. “A branch grew out of there one time,” she thought, “With leaves, and birds, swaying with the wind.”
“I can’t do this,” she said finally. “It’s too hard. I’ve had enough, and Mum, that bloody bubble of yours has burst.”
“Why don’t you try a warm bath?” Rachel suggested. Liz nodded. She would try anything.
Maggie went up to run the bath, while Leo continued to massage her sacrum and hips; Liz wouldn’t let him stop.
“I’ll examine you when you are in the water,” Rachel said. “That way you will be lying down already and you might feel more comfortable. The water will help you to relax.”
Leo helped Liz up the stairs, and into the bathroom. She had two powerful contractions on the way.
“I’ll give Tom a ring, and then I’ll put the kettle on,” he said, and left Rachel and Maggie to help Liz undress and climb into the bath.
Ten minutes passed before Maggie came downstairs with the news. “Eight centimetres, she is eight centimetres; she’s doing well, isn’t she? Touch wood.
“Eight centimetres,” Leo relayed to Tom down the phone, and then said to Maggie: “Tom wants to know is that good?”
“Nearly there,” Maggie replied.
“Nearly there, Tom,” Leo said, the phone under his chin while he poured hot water into the coffee pot. The smell of fresh coffee and the knowledge that Liz was progressing well infused him with hope, but caution held him back from saying more.
“I’ll keep you informed, bye Tom,” Leo replaced the receiver thoughtfully, and looked at Maggie.
“Is she going to be okay?” he asked. “Are they
going to be okay?” Despite his tanned complexion Leo’s cheeks were flushed. His eyes held hers with all the concern Maggie would have hoped to have seen from the father of her grandchild. The baby’s father would not be around, but they would all make sure this baby lacked nothing else.
“So far so good; let’s hope so,” she said. “I’ll make something to eat and then go and relieve Rachel so she can have a break.”
“I’ll cook,” Leo offered. “Or we could have a takeaway. I’m not hungry just yet, are you?”
“I’m not, but Harry will be home soon and he will be ravenous.”
“You look after Liz and let me sort out the hunter-gatherer,” Leo said. So Maggie returned to the bathroom where Rachel was pouring warm water from a jug over Liz’s stomach.
Liz was lying in the bath with the water up to her neck. Her stomach and breasts an archipelago in a small calm sea. She appeared more relaxed. She looked at her mum and nodded, but said nothing. Maggie recognised the signs. Liz was drawing into herself, using all of her reserves and her concentration to focus on the job in hand. There would be no more conversation, until her baby was born. From now on, Liz would only talk when she wanted to state her needs, and she and Rachel were to be guided by Liz; unless any problems arose.
Maggie took over the pouring of the warm water, while Rachel listened in to the baby’s heart, and
jotted down some notes.
“Go and get a coffee. Leo will look after you - and have something to eat,” Maggie said to her, and Rachel went willingly, she was in need of a break. She took Gemma downstairs with her.
Leo made her and Gemma a sandwich, and poured some coffee.
“You look tired,” he said to Rachel.
“I only came off night duty yesterday morning. We get one sleep day and then back to it the following morning. Your body clock gets mixed up and it takes a bit of adjustment at first. And Gemma, she was on duty last night, and today should be her sleep day, but she didn’t want to miss the chance of a home birth.
I’ve some holidays coming up in a couple of weeks,” Rachel added, “Can’t wait.”
“Have you any got children?” he asked her.
“Two daughters, seven and four years old.”
“How do you manage?” Leo asked, “It must be tough sometimes.”
“Weekends aren’t too bad; their dad is home then, and I do have a weekend off every now and again. Today they went swimming. My mum helps too, collecting them from school, that sort of thing. It is difficult at times; perhaps I’ll win on the lottery.”
“Do you like being a midwife?”
“I do, I love it, but it can be frustrating at times, in the hospital especially, and of course it’s not all cute babies, like some people seem to think. Things
happen and many births are not straightforward. The responsibilities are huge, the job is hard work, and the hours are unsociable. You have to love it or you wouldn’t stick it.”
“I couldn’t do this everyday, I feel like a flea on a whale’s back.”
“Don’t, what you’re doing to support Liz is bigger than you think,” Rachel said.
“Liz is doing all the work,” Leo said, “all I can do is create a brief distraction, like an annoying itch. The worst part is, although you know what’s going to happen, you can’t be sure, can you? I mean I know she’s going to have her baby, but I’m not sure exactly when or how, and I’m not sure if I can handle it. It’s like being in the dentist’s chair all day.”
“Like I said, don’t underestimate the value of your support to her; I think you’re helping Liz a lot.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Yes, I do, but when it comes down to it, it’s her baby and no one can do it for her. Keep on doing what you’ve been doing. It will be worth it, and remember, this is just the start of it.