True stories about birth and giving birth

Day 378. It’s lunch-time (my son, Máté’s birth)

Day 378. It’s lunch-time (my son, Máté’s birth)

After my miscarriage with Tiny I soon became expectant again. I was over the moon about having a new life inside me, but we only told the great news to our immediate families before the third month was over.

A went to the third, fourth, fifth and sixth day of the preparatory course again. I listened to the speeches about the upkeep of the newborn, breastfeeding, “Giving birth from the point of view of a midwife”, and the “Waiting room talks”.

At 7.15 one morning I was awakened by contractions, which were regular immediately. My husband left with my son Szabi, to the accountant at eight and they returned at half past, and during this period I had six contractions. They were about five minutes apart.

We rang the midwife and discussed the situation. I phoned my parents to take the eighteen-month-old. My father came and took him to the playground.

The midwife got to our place by 10, listened to the heart of the baby during contractions and between them, and then took my blood pressure. Everything was just fine. The doula arrived, too, they massaged me together, gave me poultices – all of which were relaxing. I was hovering between the big bed and the toilet. The labour proceeded well, but at a quarter to 12 it started to slow down and almost stopped because I started to worry about my big boy. It was lunchtime and he couldn’t eat!

We phoned Granddad who was already on the staircase. He told us he would take him over to their place. I was very happy about it, because I didn’t have to worry about him anymore. So the labour started again.

During pushing my husband supported me from behind and in this position, half-crouching I gave birth to Máté at quarter to 2. He cried out, but only because I accidentally got on the cord. I put him on my breast and there he became relaxed.

Later I had to go out for a moment, so he was left there and by the time I got back he had pooped himself. We had forgotten to put a diaper on him! That was the time when Szabi and my parents got there. His first words to his brother were: “Baby! Doody!”

Sz. I.

Szabi > > >
Lackó > > >
Attila > > >

Véletlenül kiválasztott mesék.

This post is also available in: Hungarian