Here's my birth story if anyone's interested: I certainly had the full gamut of experiences.
Things kicked off on Tuesday 27th October at 3am when I began having contractions roughly 10 minutes apart. I woke Nicky, eventually, to get out the TENS machine and then tried to go back to sleep.
The contractions slowed a bit during the day, allowing us to go for a long walk and have lunch in a cafe, and then speeded up in the evening. The hospital told us not to come in until the contractions were less than 4 minutes apart for at least 3 hours. We called the doula, who suggested a bath.
The next morning Nicky and I again went for a walk to a cafe for lunch. I was walking much more slowly now and became tired very easily. I managed to have very discreet contractions in the cafe - it apparently looked as if I were concentrating very hard on an article in the Daily Mail.
That night was difficult as the contractions were becoming more powerful and I had to turn onto my hands and knees and bury my head in the pillow each time. Eventually I became a bit upset and the doula came out to see me. She organised a dark nest for me on the sofa, reset the TENS machine and calmed me down.
Thursday and Friday dissolved into a blur of contractions in darkened rooms, massages ith clary sage and whispered conversations between Nicky and the doula. Finally, late on Saturday night, a cab was called and I was taken to hospital.
We were sent home again due to insufficient cervical dilation. Fortunately, I was given some painkillers to allow me the prospect of a night's sleep. The doula made a nest for herself on the floor beside me, and I was amazed that I could doze between the contractions.
Unfortunately the painkillers slowed the contraction rate down and they did not pick up again until Saturday evening, around the time of X-Factor. I was half watching, half hanging off the mantelpiece throughout.
Again, after what seemed like ages, another cab was called and we returned to the hospital. I was examined and, finally, was admitted to the midwife-led Bloomsbury Birthing Centre (3am) as I was in established labour. The pool was filled and I was handed the gas and air. Swimming about in the pool with the gas and air was sheer bliss. I was checked every 15 minutes or so for blood pressure and Marigold's heartbeat, and basically left to it.
Gradually it became clear that I wasn't progressing in the expected way. The dilation hadn't increased at all over the day and eventually after some debate it was decided to give me a dose of diamorphine to allow me some proper rest, and then to break the membranes if no further progress had been had.
The diamorphine was wonderful. I spent five hours floating on a golden cloud, but sadly had made no further progress and my waters were broken. About half an hour after this, menconium was found in the fluid and we were moved immediately down to the labour ward for foetal monitoring prior to induction to speed up labour. I was asked to put on a hospital gown but quite reasonably pointed out that I had on a perfectly suitable front opening nightie. The baby's position was scanned, and it was agreed that stronger syntocin induced contractions would correct it. An epidural was offered but turned down in favour of another dose of diamorphine.
A cannula was inserted ready for the syntocin, and I was wired up to the monitors. The doula was about to pop home, as nothing much was likely to happen for six hours or so but then the baby's heart rate vanished from the monitor, lots of people rushed in, and the drama started to happen. A foetal scalp electrode was attached to Marigold's head and it soon became clear that the original monitor was faulty and the baby was fine.
Nick was taken away by the doula for a calming walk and to get some food; I was left alone with a midwife who said nothing apart from "don't worry" and wrote copious notes. I explained that it was impossible not to worry when I didn't know what was going on, so she elaborated. Usually the foetal heart rate drops when a contraction happens, but there were some odd dips which were causing concern. Induction of labour can increase foetal distress, and they did not want to proceed with that until they were sure the baby could cope.
A blood sample was to be taken from Marigold's scalp. This procedure involved having about five people turning me onto my side, hoicking one of my legs up and rootling around with what looked like a cardboard shuttlecock. Unfortunately, after 2 goes, it was determined that I was not dilated enough for a decent sample and I was told I needed to have a c-section now. I signed the form and was wheeled off to theatre.
I had a spinal block and a saline drip which together made me shiver. As the spinal block did its work, the shivering stopped up to my chest but I could not keep my arms still. I was attached to an automatic blood pressure cuff but it could not take a reading because of the tremors. The anesthetist pleaded with me to try and stay still. As it was, my arm was covered in bruises afterwards from the constantly pinching cuff.
The surgeons were affable and pleasant, turning to rehearsed and focused as the procedure began. The anesthetist hovered over my shoulder, peering over the sheet they'd put up in front of me and explaining what was going on. After a couple of minutes of rummaging and tugging, I felt as if an overloaded handbag had been removed from my tummy, and I heard a furious bleating noise.
"Oh, that explains it," the surgeon said. The umbilical cord was barely a foot long. That, combined with a high placenta (which is usually a good thing) had meant that no matter how long I'd had contractions, Marigold could never move low enough to begin the birth process properly. Had we been left to it, we would both, eventually, have died.
Afterwards I was wheeled to recovery and, still shaking, was told by a bossy midwife that I could not hold, let alone feed my baby, because of the shakes. I ignored her because Marigold was trying to feed from Nicky and not succeeding.
It was lovely waking up in bed with the baby on top of me (my nipple in her eye) the following day.