My first birth

"Is this it?" That question kept circling back to me all afternoon. My bump kept tightening and I had no idea whether labour was beginning. It was bewildering like few things before. And it wasn't it, not yet.

And yet I had prepared for the birth conscientiously. I read books about natural birth, paid for an online birth-preparation course and wrote into my birth plan that I wished to give birth without medication. I was preparing for a painless birth. I tell the story of my whole first pregnancy in My first pregnancy: what I wish I had known back then. Here I want to tell you what happened next.

You won’t find any scare stories here, or tales of how awful it all was for poor me. Among women it can often turn into a kind of contest: the moment they spot a pregnant woman, they try to outdo each other with stories of who had the worse birth. You won’t find that here. I actually had a beautiful, uncomplicated birth – I just made it longer and harder for myself. In this article you’ll find tips on what to do and what to avoid so you don’t drag out your birth unnecessarily the way I did.

What would have helped me to know: When labour truly begins, you won't be in any doubt. Regular contractions will come, and with them a great force that keeps building.

Starting at home

First I lost my mucus plug, a larger bit of mucus in my knickers. Then nothing happened for several hours. After that came irregular tightenings of my belly, as if it were squeezing inwards from the sides. Those were contractions. I felt best soaking in the bath. Otherwise my husband and I just rested – back then we were watching Friends – and waited for it to get more regular and stronger.

Everyone advised me not to go to the hospital too early. But what on earth does too early even mean? To this day I remember how lost I felt.

I stayed at home from about six in the evening until eleven, when we set off. My waters broke on the way, while we were still in the car.

What would have helped me to know: As long as you can comfortably bear that force and the contractions are more than five minutes apart or irregular, there's no need to go anywhere. If your waters break, put on a pad and don't throw it away. At the hospital they'll test whether it really is amniotic fluid.

Arriving at the hospital

I gave birth at Thomayer Hospital in Prague. It is one of the smaller Prague maternity hospitals, yet it was bustling and there wasn't much individual, warm care. What awaited me was an examination by the doctor, an internal examination – truly nothing pleasant during contractions – the monitor, waiting in the corridor, and finally they sent us to a room. Nobody was in any hurry. It was evening, so they threatened to send my husband away. In the end we talked them round.

Today it surely looks different there, hopefully better. But back then it didn't leave me with a good feeling. I simply don't like hospitals; as a child I spent far too much time in them.

When we arrived, I was looking forward to it. Fear only crept in once we were in the room, when my husband was supposed to leave or when they checked me on the monitor and something didn't look right to them. Then, mid-contractions, they hurried me to the delivery room. Luck was on my side and I got the one with a shower. The birthing ball was my support.

Long hours in the shower

I spent long hours there. Again and again I hid from the pain in the warm shower with the ball. For several hours not much happened at the regular checks. I was suffering a great deal. My birth plan asked for no medication, so they didn't even offer it.

It hurt like nothing I had ever known. Panic took hold of me and for a while I refused to become a mum.

The sentence that changed everything

At eight in the morning the doctors were changing shifts, and the doctor wanted to deal with my stalled labour with some medication. But the midwife persuaded him to wait a little longer. That was the turning point. They strapped me to the monitor because they didn't like that labour wasn't progressing. That pulled me out of the shower, where I had been running to and battling the pain.

Then I suffered terribly. I was strapped to the birthing chair with the baby monitor on and my husband was holding my hand, which I crushed with every contraction. And that was when he said: "Try to accept the pain."

That sentence changed everything. Within an hour I was giving birth, and just before half past nine our daughter came into the world.

What would have helped me to know: Even feelings like these are okay. It is good to know your skeletons in the closet, not to avoid them, and to try to accept them. During birth it helps to relax and let the pain pass through you, not fight it. Painless birth really does exist; I know women who have experienced it. But if it doesn't happen for you, don't blame yourself.

The cord and the red towel

We wished to let the umbilical cord stop pulsing. They more or less respected that, though my husband had to hold them back. Then he cut the cord himself.

They laid my daughter on me and we covered her with the red towel we had brought. But they didn't like her breathing, so after a while they carried her to the examination couch next to me and watched her breathing there. It was probably only a short time, but to me it felt agonising and endlessly long. Then they laid her back on me.

What would have helped me to know: You can let the cord stop pulsing before it is cut. Your partner can keep an eye on your wishes during the birth.

The placenta

Then it was the placenta's turn. Suddenly I felt a great, unpleasant pressure in the birth canal. A gentle push was enough and it was out. Unfortunately I couldn't see it or keep it. I don't think it even occurred to me back then to ask.

What would have helped me to know: Don't let anyone pull on the umbilical cord. Try waiting and breastfeeding; the placenta should come away on its own. And today I know you can ask them to show you the placenta or let you keep it.

When they gave her back

Relief washed over me, a beautiful feeling and contentment. And yet I didn't know how to take her in my arms. I was afraid to touch her and afraid to help her to the breast.

What would have helped me to know: Rub your baby with your hands on your body. Wipe their little mouth and nose with your hand. You can hold your baby with their head tilted slightly down so the rest of the amniotic fluid can drain out. If your baby hasn't found their way to the breast on their own after a while, help them. Rest, cuddle, don't let the staff disturb you, and wrap up snugly together.

What I would tell myself today

If I could speak to my younger self, I would say what I say to you today:

"Let it happen, let go of control, let it hurt, you can do this, you are strong enough."

This content is for information only and does not replace individual care from a midwife or doctor. If you have any problems, always seek professional care.