We sit down with beautiful new mum, Kirra, and hear about her birth story and how the unexpected, comes from the expected.
On a quiet Saturday evening, I found myself in the early stages of labour. Living just a few doors away from the hospital, I laboured at home as long as I could. I took a walk down by the lake (with my trusty heat pack in tow) and enjoyed the last sunset with my husband, Shannon, and our dog, Otto. It was pure bliss.
My birth plan had always consisted of as natural as possible, but of course, I was happy with interventions when and if required. It turned out bub's heart rate was quite high, so I needed to be hooked up to machines to allow constant monitoring throughout.
Things were moving relatively quick, and before I knew it, my midwife let me know that it was time to push. Being a 'first-timer' - I listened and pushed. Pushing for over an hour was exhausting. I remember thinking to myself, babies in the movie scenes just pop out effortlessly! (ha ha).
The obstetrician made a visit and did some checks. Immediately, he instructed me to stop pushing. What do you mean, stop pushing? I wondered. Unbeknownst to both myself, and the midwives - I was not yet fully dilated. Fast forward to the moment of my body actually being ready to push, I realised, ok, this is how it is meant to feel when your body is ready to push. This feels natural, this feels right.
My beautiful baby boy, Kip John, finally arrived, but he did not cry. You know that anticipated first cry? It did not come. Kip was placed on my chest for about two seconds, before he was rushed away for breathing support. Born in meconium and facing distress, Kip's little lungs were filled with mucus. As a nurse myself, I found comfort in recognising the machine, and knew he was receiving the best care possible. Luckily, Kip only required breathing support for an hour or so. He was a little trooper, just like his Dad!
Somewhere, in the midst of the moments before Kip was rushed away, Shannon announced that Kip was a boy. I had waited nine whole months to know who my baby was, and all along it was the little boy I had always dreamt of.
Reflecting back on my birth experience, I had really envisioned holding Kip on my chest for as long as I wanted, and watching the moment Shannon would cut the umbilical cord. Although these expectations did not happen, I am forever grateful for Kip's safety and the high-quality care he received. It stands as a testament to the strength that came from the unexpected, and has cemented our bond even tighter.
My birth plan had always consisted of as natural as possible, but of course, I was happy with interventions when and if required. It turned out bub's heart rate was quite high, so I needed to be hooked up to machines to allow constant monitoring throughout.
Things were moving relatively quick, and before I knew it, my midwife let me know that it was time to push. Being a 'first-timer' - I listened and pushed. Pushing for over an hour was exhausting. I remember thinking to myself, babies in the movie scenes just pop out effortlessly! (ha ha).
The obstetrician made a visit and did some checks. Immediately, he instructed me to stop pushing. What do you mean, stop pushing? I wondered. Unbeknownst to both myself, and the midwives - I was not yet fully dilated. Fast forward to the moment of my body actually being ready to push, I realised, ok, this is how it is meant to feel when your body is ready to push. This feels natural, this feels right.
My beautiful baby boy, Kip John, finally arrived, but he did not cry. You know that anticipated first cry? It did not come. Kip was placed on my chest for about two seconds, before he was rushed away for breathing support. Born in meconium and facing distress, Kip's little lungs were filled with mucus. As a nurse myself, I found comfort in recognising the machine, and knew he was receiving the best care possible. Luckily, Kip only required breathing support for an hour or so. He was a little trooper, just like his Dad!
Somewhere, in the midst of the moments before Kip was rushed away, Shannon announced that Kip was a boy. I had waited nine whole months to know who my baby was, and all along it was the little boy I had always dreamt of.
Reflecting back on my birth experience, I had really envisioned holding Kip on my chest for as long as I wanted, and watching the moment Shannon would cut the umbilical cord. Although these expectations did not happen, I am forever grateful for Kip's safety and the high-quality care he received. It stands as a testament to the strength that came from the unexpected, and has cemented our bond even tighter.
