July 13th dawned on a rainy, cloudy Sunday. It turned out to be the day our baby decided to start the long and exciting journey into this world. My first toilet visit at 8.40 had me wondering about the large amount of liquid trickling into the bowl. When I finally stood up, there was another gush of fluid, this time hitting the floor. 

 “My God, this is it!”, I thought and could not summon any other feeling than happiness and elation. I waddled my way into the bedroom where my husband awoke to the sound of more amniotic fluid gushing down on the floor. His eyes wide open, he asked: ‘Is this it?”  

Smiling, I nodded, upon which he jumped out of bed. Soon enough my parents were up and milling about excitedly, while I lay down with some towels between my legs. Unhurriedly, I had breakfast in bed, instructed my husband to pack the rest of my hospital bag, polished my nails and put on some lucky-charm jewellery. I’m going to have a baby today!  

The cup of raspberry leaf tea I had did its job: I had to go to the toilet again and was wondering whether it was safe for me to walk there, as I had been told to lie down immediately should the waters break with the baby in breech position. I risked it, since the ambulance car took some time to arrive. When the two friendly men finally came, I had to get up and walk to the entrance door where the stretcher lay, anyway. My husband got into the ambulance with me, while my parents followed us with their own car some time later.  

At the obstetrics ward, I was told that the baby was high up in the womb and quite small, around 3100 grams. I was also told that I was already having contractions. Funny, I had not noticed them yet. The nurse pointed out the curve on the monitor: no doubt, light contractions every 10 to 15 minutes. I had just felt a constant pulling sensation, nothing else. I was asked if I still wanted to deliver the natural way or preferred a C-section. I opted for natural and the doctor said it looked like the conditions made my choice possible.  

We were lucky: that day at that time, there was only one other delivery in progress. I didn’t have to see my worst fears of having to deliver in a cleaning cabinet come true. Instead, we were ushered into a very pleasant delivery room where we started to unpack our stuff: homeopathic medicine, scented-steam lamp-machine, CDs and other personal things. A friendly young midwife came to introduce herself, saying that she would most probably not be the one to help our baby to this world since her shift ended in 3 hours time. My parents and mother-in-law came, received permission to have a look at the delivery room and went to the cafeteria. We joined them there with my husband, since I was told I could walk without the danger of the umbilical cord getting stuck somewhere, thus cutting off the blood and oxygen supply to the baby. Now the only task we had was to wait. I barely sat down to drink my glass of water when I started having a strong contraction. I hurried to the next toilet and breathed through the first painful contraction. When it was over, I thought it best to return to the ward.  

There, we were introduced to our next midwife, a very friendly and talkative lady who had spent a part of her career as a nurse in Saudi Arabia. She explained that the doctor had instructed her to put me on an oxitocine-IV, since usually during breech-deliveries contractions become stronger fast enough and the risk of infections after the waters break increases with every passing hour. Oxitocine strengthens contractions and increases the delivery speed. Our midwife had understood from the birth plan I had given to her that I wanted the delivery to be natural, with as little as possible chemistry involved. She winked at me and said that she would stall the doctor’s order for some more time if we wanted to try out “more traditional ways of speeding up the process”.  

“I am sure you can find an empty room in this hospital”, she grinned. Laughing, I told her I was not in the state to get romantic anymore and would rather try walking up and down the stairs, a strategy I had heard helped a friend. My husband and I spent the next hour outside in misty rain, walking up and down the stairs. I had a couple of stronger contractions, but the intervals between them did not get shorter. At 6 pm, after the midwife had brought me some soup and bread, she told me that she could not resist the doctor’s order any longer: she put me on the Oxitocine IV. I spent the next hours sitting on a training ball, breathing through contractions while my husband pushed the acupressure points on my lower back and feet. At 9 pm I started taking a hot shower recommended by the midwife, dragging the IV-rack along. The hot water strengthened my contractions up to very close to unbearable, but I managed to breathe properly and retain my positive attitude.  

Yet another change of shifts brought us a new midwife, an elderly, very friendly lady who was specialized in acupressure and -puncture. She put magnets and small needles on my back, ears and legs and pushed them whenever my legs started trembling in between contractions. I found them very helpful. My husband pushed the spots on my heels with all his might throughout the contractions. I must admit that the point came when I could not concentrate on breathing any more, because all my strength went into trying to escape from the pain. My husband gave me homeopathic medicines from time to time and made sure I drank enough, a mixture of lemon juice, water, salt and sugar that replenished my strengths as well as killed my thirst. After everything was over, he told me that I had completely switched to speaking Hungarian, my mother tongue – a fact I don’t remember myself at all.  

During the day, we were told several times that it was more than likely for the baby to be born only the next day. Around 11 pm I felt a pang of despair: how long was this pain going to last? The contractions were very painful by now. Luckily, I remembered that I had read that a feeling of not being able to cope any longer might signalize the beginning of the transition period between the dilation and the pushing phase. This means that all will be over quite soon – and this I was hoping for myself.  Not long after I had had these thoughts, three doctors and two nurses entered the room. It is normal procedure to have obstetricians and other staff present at unusual deliveries. We had an international team: a Ukrainian obstetrician and an Estonian pediatrician. The obstetrician examined my cervix and uttered the long-awaited words: “Actually, if you feel the urge to push, don’t resist it anymore.”  

Oh yes, I had been feeling like pushing for some time now. The first two pushing contractions were great. I had a surge of energy and felt it was great to push the baby out. My husband could already see the butt of our baby! The midwife made the cut for the episiotomy – also normal procedure during a breech birth, since the most critical part of the baby, the head, emerges last and the doctor has to help it out and see what he is doing.  

Suddenly, muscular pain was converted into the pain of a wide object pushing against a small outlet: Our baby’s butt was outside, the legs folded upwards like a little tulip, and the doctor turned the baby inside me to get the head into a safe position. Not the most pleasant sensation of my life… Three more contractions with two to three pushes each, and the head was ready to come out. The midwife explained exactly how I should breathe, hold my shoulders, and push – that was of amazing help, as well as the fact that the rest of the staff was cheering me on.

At 23.25, I felt a relieving last push and the baby was out! “A girl!” said somebody and showed me a dark-haired, red little bundle that looked at me with dark-blue eyes wide open. “We have a daughter!” I said to my husband, and we just gazed, amazed. The little one was immediately put on my upper body and I could not take my eyes off this beautiful little creature.  

Then she was whisked off again to be weighed and bathed with my husband’s help: 48 cm at 3190 grams. When I next saw her, she was tightly swaddled in a white cloth and looked like a little larva. My husband took her out of the room and showed her to the proud grandparents waiting outside. I was going through the aftermath of the delivery: placenta delivery, stitching,  IV, because I had lost a good amount of blood – not very pleasant, but I was just longing for my baby being returned to me and did not care about any pain or discomfort. Finally, I was ready and she was put on my breast. There she was: tiny, perfect, looking at me and knowing exactly what to do. Her strong suction surprised and delighted me at the same time.  

The grandparents were allowed to come in and hold their beautiful grand-daughter who was very lively, looking around through huge eyes. Our midwife congratulated me on my positive attitude towards giving birth and asked if she could take our little daughter to show her to her colleagues outside. Rarely had she seen such a vivid newborn – most probably because most Oulu mothers deliver their babies with epidurals or other painkillers that make the baby sleepy, she said. I was so happy! I had managed to give birth the way I had wanted: as close to natural as possible.

And I had a little heroine to take home soon, a tiny daughter whose name we decided there and then: Alma Ottilia Abigél Sohlo.

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