Karen tells her story of giving birth in the US in the seventies. A call to Ireland and a steady grandmother solved a worry that had nurses puzzled.
My first child was born on March 21, 1971. I don't think any mother is prepared for the birth of a first child, but being only 20 years of age, I was also very immature.
I went into labour on a Saturday afternoon and my son was born on Sunday Morning.
I remember having pains all day Saturday and into the night and feeling very sorry for myself.
The delivery was quick, I did not have an epidural, but did have gas to inhale for the pain.
I must have forgotten all I learned in antinatal class because I had to have stitches.
My husband was ten minutes late for the big event, but I did not notice, I did not expect to have him there. Things have changed since then and he was there for the birth of my last child 16 years later.
She was breech and a much harder delivery but I was an old pro by then.
I expected to breast feed, but things went against that plan. I started to run a temperature of unknown origin and my stitches were investigated for infection-boy did that hurt!
They started to give my newborn bottle feeds and the nurses reported his hands and feet were bluish. They thought he might have a heart problem, they wanted to check this out. My husband called his mother in Ireland and she said "ask them if it only happends during feeding" and call me back. Yes, was their reply, and she said to tell the doctors he's just very excited about getting his feed, and that was the end of that scare. In the meanwhile, I asked when could I have my baby back and I heard one nurse tell the other outside the door "that baby is very ill" thats when worry made me grow up quick.
But, all ended well and my baby was healthy. I had a 8lb 2oz beautiful baby boy, born on the first day of Spring. He brought with him all the joys of life.
Karen, Co. Galway.
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