Make you feel my love

Just over a month ago I was stood in the dark, in the early hours of the morning at Kings College Hospital, cradling my tiny newborn child in my arms and singing this to him. He was wrapped up tightly, his eyes were opening ever so slightly and he looked up at me, his mother. A feeling ran through my body that I have never felt before. There are no words I can find to describe that feeling, but it was overwhelming and more strong and fulfilling than I could ever have imagined. Tears ran down my face as I sang softly to him, promising him my love. Here was this precious, beautiful little boy – Oscar, my son.

Something like this is really hard to write. I’ve been wanting to do it for the last five weeks, but said beautiful little boy has been keeping me otherwise entertained. I want to share my experience with you, and whilst I appreciate it may bore some of you, I’m going to totally indulge myself nonetheless, because this is the single most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me and I want to tell the world.

It’s fair to say that as labours go, mine was pretty long. Five days from my contractions starting on Sunday, and Oscar entering the world on Friday. It was a gruelling, tiring time – the most physically and emotionally demanding time of my life, but in such an incredible sense. At no point in that time did I want it to be over, or doubt my ability to carry on. I had total faith in myself, in Christian and in my unborn child, and I completely surrendered to the miracle that was unfolding through me.

During my pregnancy, Christian and I had been practicing something called HypnoBirthing. HypnoBirthing teaches self hypnosis, relaxation and breathing techniques for a comfortable birth. It allows you to experience birth in an atmosphere of calm relaxation, free from the fear or tension that facilitates the pain and panic so commonly associated with childbirth.

I cannot speak highly enough of HypnoBirthing and quite frankly I don’t know how I would have given birth without it, let alone got through five days of labour feeling wonderful. And wonderful I did feel. I can honestly say that I’ve never felt so loved and in love as I felt that week. The serene and peaceful environment that Christian and I had created allowed us to be completely together in our own world – totally united in birthing our baby. I have never felt so profoundly close to another human being, so safe and held and so able to trust in myself. I felt absolutely no fear, anxiety or pain. I felt nothing but love.

Early on in my pregnancy, Christian and I had decided we wanted to have our baby at home. We didn’t want any medical intervention and we wanted to enjoy being in our own environment. Because of the length of my labour, we didn’t end up getting our home birth, and headed to hospital on Thursday evening when an impending snow storm meant a midwife might not be able to get to us at home if we needed her. At this point, I was starting to get despondent and disappointed. I didn’t want to be in hospital and my dream of a quiet home birth had ended. For a moment I lost faith in my ability to get the birth I wanted, but within an hour we were in a lovely room with a huge birthing pool and a wonderful midwife who totally respected our wishes and what we’d been working towards. We dimmed the lights, put our own music on and I got in this lovely warm pool and totally relaxed on an even deeper level than before. It was incredible.

I was in the pool for a total of 18 hours or so, and that was a blissful time. Christian has since told me that I was moving like ‘a yoga-teaching ballet dancer’ – just doing what felt right for my body with each contraction, and using the water to move freely and naturally. Recalling it is a bit hazy – I just remember feeling really high and euphoric, I think I was singing to myself at one point and I was so deeply relaxed that I was actually nodding off between contractions now and again.

Despite the midwives’ concerns that I was not progressing quickly enough, Christian and I kept insisting that we wanted to let things happen at their own pace as the baby was showing no signs of distress, but after a further 12 hours at 8cm dilated and the realisation that the baby’s head was getting swollen and not budging, it was decided that a caesarean section was going to be the way our baby was delivered. By this point I was so exhausted and things became a bit of a blur. Everything seemed to happen very quickly and within an hour I was on an operating table with bright lights and lots of doctors looming over me. I felt a pang of momentary devastation that I wasn’t getting to complete the final stage of this mammoth week naturally. I felt cheated and sad, but when at 7.06pm the surgeon said “lower the screen” and I saw my son lifted from my body, umbilical cord still connecting us, those feelings were overridden with ecstasy and sheer joy – enormous amounts of sheer joy.

Whilst I was being sewn up, Christian had taken off his top and was holding our little baby’s naked frame against his chest. The pang of devastation came back – that I wasn’t holding him – but again was quick to disappear when I looked to see this incredible other half of me holding the magnificent product of our love. It moved me in a way I can’t describe.

Twenty minutes later I was back in recovery and could finally hold our son. I held him tightly, studying his amazing face (and thinking ‘oh no, he’s got his dad’s big hooter’) and stroking his long fragile fingers. I put him to my breast and he fed. It felt wonderful to have him attached to me again and to be nourishing him again – our first twenty minutes of separation in nine months had felt like a lifetime.

Oscar de Cruz, born on 3 December 2010 at 7.06pm, weighing 7lbs 14oz

Later that night, Christian went home and I was left with our sleeping little boy. Despite having had no sleep in five days, I couldn’t shut my eyes. I lay there staring at him all night long.

People keep asking me if I feel ‘back to normal’ yet, but I don’t really remember what that felt like. Life has changed – I have changed. Everything feels so much more wonderful. Yes, I now only sleep for two or three hours in a row; yes, there are nappies and muslins in every corner of our house; and yes we now have discussions about the colour of poo; but all of that seems okay because we have Oscar – this amazing boy.

And amazing he really is. Of course I think he is the most beautiful child ever born (but honestly, he really is). He’s so expressive, so calm (most of the time) and largely unphased by most of his encounters so far. In fact I think the only times he’s been phased in the last five weeks are those unfortunate instances where he’s managed to piss in his own face or poo up his own back. Other than that he is pretty happy to be eating about 90% of the time, sleeping in between or dancing around the lounge in daddy’s arms to disco records. There are then times when he sits in his rocker, hands folded, with a frown that suggests he’s planning world domination.

I can’t say the last five weeks have been easy. Having a child – a little person who is completely dependent on you for everything – is exhausting and truly relentless. There are times when he’s crying and I’m thinking “what do you want from me??”. Breastfeeding is bloody hard, as is the realisation that there is no going back. There is no end of day, no shutting down and leaving the office, it is FULL ON.

It is also the most wonderful. The love I feel for this child is unrivalled. I feel constantly overwhelmed with pride and joy, and just awe for this little person. He is phenomenal and I cannot, for one second, imagine life without him in it. Oscar I love you – you are my life, and there is nothing in the world I wouldn’t do for you.

And Christian, thank you. I love you.

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