Jess from My Moo and Roo shares her incredible birth story below, she’s such an amazing woman! If you would like to contribute just fill in the contact form here.
You can visit Jess’ blog here and follow her on Instagram.
Wednesday, December 6th. 39 weeks pregnant and waddling in to the clinic for my checkup. Everything
was good. My OB offered to give me a sweep, but I declined. Off I went on my merry way, to finish the
last of the Christmas shopping. Home to my toddler, Max. 18 months old and the most lovable rogue I
have ever met. He has one of those laughs that’s good for your soul. A typical day in our house, loading
and unloading washing machine too many times for my liking, ironing, cleaning. Oh did I mention
packing? Yeah we just received word that our mortgage was accepted and we were now officially home
owners. Lucky for me I don’t stress easy, or at all. We had dinner that evening, pork. Baby was super
active. We were in bed by 10:30. Tossing and turning. 11:01 – POP! I will never forget the sound of my
waters breaking. No heads up – nothing. Up I sprung and ran straight to the bathroom, you know, just to
make sure. I came out of the bathroom and gently have the nod to Matt, of course while I stood their,
the rest of my waters decided to leak. I asked Matt to give my Mam a call. She was on stand by to look
after Max. It was a particularly horrible night, lashing and cold. So I sat on the edge of our super king bed
trying to decide what to wear and throwing some makeup into my hospital bag. I had an urge to go to
the bathroom. 11:20 – Uh-Oh I mutter. “Matt, we don’t have time. You may call an ambulance.” Mam
and Dad walk through the front door. I had made it downstairs to the bathroom. The little bathroom
was no bigger than 4 X 4. I couldn’t have found a smaller space to labour in. I was pushing. My poor
Mum. I’ll never forget her face. “Jess, love. You need to get off the toilet, you can’t have the baby in the
toilet.” Where I found the strength to hoist myself in one swoosh, up and down, I will never know. Dad
was on the phone to the operator. Frantically answering all of her questions and relaying the
information to mammy. He got more than he bargained for that night. I was in a world of my own,
knowing our baby girl was on her way. What was the point in panicking? It was happening. One arm
around the toilet, one arm up on the sink. Push. It’s all a bit of a blur but I remember the operator telling
my dad to get a shoe lace and safety pin. I opened my eyes in a rather “what the f**k do we need those
for” kind of way. Her head was out and we needed those to clamp the cord. My mum and I both looking
at another for reassurance. Yes I had given birth before, mam had given birth 6 times. But neither of us
have ever been on the business end. 00:07 – Baby Robyn entered the world. Screaming. Thank God! The
relief. I had managed to take off my top through all of this so mam could pop her up on my chest for skin
to skin. I was completely naked. Freezing as the front door had been open the entire time waiting on the
paramedics. Max had woken up during all of the drama. I’m sure Matt was delighted he had something
to distract him. We left the cord. The paramedics arrived shortly after. Thankfully my Mam wrapped us
both up in blankets. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a scissors like it. It took 7 attempts for that lady to cut
the cord. Can you imagine it? I’m laying on the floor, draped around the toilet and sink pedestal. My
mum at my feet and the paramedic hanging halfway in the door frame. Like I said, I couldn’t have picked
a smaller place to give birth. We delivered the placenta there. Up I got, threw on a dressing gown and
out I walked to the ambulance.
All the while I’m worried. At 36 weeks pregnant I was told I was carrying group b strep bacteria. It was
discovered when a sample of urine was sent for testing due to a kidney infection. I’d never heard of it. I
kept hearing conflicting information on the subject but the one thing everyone was in agreement with
was “the minute your waters break, go to the hospital immediately where I would begin an IV antibiotic
to reduce the risk to baby. Obviously there was no antibiotic. The minute we arrived in to the hospital,
they had taken Robyn to make sure she was ok. I quickly divulged all to the midwives and they promptly
called the pediatrician. They took swabs and drew blood. I remembering looking at Matt and saying
“she’s not crying” as they stuck the needle into her tiny hand.
She too was carrying the bacteria. I had passed it onto her. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Every twinge, every cry, every time she felt a little warm, every time her breathing felt a little fast. Every time she
fussed at the boob. Worry. Panic. They kept us for 3 days, closely monitoring Robyn. She seemed good.
Once you pass the 3 month mark there really is no further risk.
As we’re almost at the 4 month mark now, I definitely feel that I am very protective of her. You can’t
help but think “what if?” The nightmares and flashbacks. It’s only now really sinking in.
Mum Tribe Ireland 