Waiting For Baby

Writer Lottie Lewis takes us through her emotional home stretch of pregnancy and how she waited for the ‘biggest, most exciting’ event of her life.

Photo: Tom Vaughan for Surfline

I was absolutely convinced I’d be early. Lots of my friends gave birth before their due date, and I’d talked myself into thinking I’d be part of the 37 weeks club too. However, I’m notoriously late for everything in life, and I don’t know why I thought the arrival of my baby would be any different.

It didn’t help that I’d had a pretty rough ride with pregnancy. I was plagued with sickness in the first trimester, throwing up multiple times a day if I dared to venture out of bed. My partner and I were living in a van at the time with my dog, during the hottest August I’d ever experienced. With the back doors open wide, even the smallest breath of wind offered relief, and I spent the hours that filled the long hot days trying to stomach a banana in minuscule bites and watching Selling Sunset on my smashed phone screen when the signal allowed. The hazy days turned into sweaty nights and, even though I was incredibly grateful and happy to be growing my baby, I couldn’t understand why no one warned me that pregnancy symptoms were so challenging. The smell of Charlie’s dinner cooking turned my stomach so badly that I ended up going to live with my mum.

I was so fortunate to have a healthy pregnancy, but I was plagued with anxiety, which is pretty unlike me. I like to think of myself as mostly easy going and unflustered, but pregnancy kicked my anxiety into overdrive. I was constantly worrying about my baby’s health, losing myself down Google holes when I was meant to be working, boring Charlie to tears with my fears and questions, texting my wonderful midwife every other day about some new scenario that I needed her to reassure me about.

For these reasons, amongst a bunch of other uncomfortable pregnancy symptoms, and whilst I loved my bump and growing my baby, I couldn’t wait for pregnancy to be over and birth just couldn’t come fast enough. So I got to work. As a dog owner, I already walked every day, but I upped the miles and made sure to include steep hills and soft sand. I was turning my daily dog walks into mini marathons, knowing it could promote the optimal position for birth. My midwife advised me to start eating dates at 36 weeks, so off I waddled to the shops and began drinking date smoothies, eating date and dark chocolate energy balls, choosing dates for dessert. And I really don’t like dates. Raspberry leaf tea became my go-to drink of choice, morning and night, and the smell of clary sage oil filled our home. I attended pregnancy yoga, plus researched stretches I could do at home that might induce labour. A friend who birthed both her babies early told me I should be hanging upside-down off the sofa. Another recommended I drove down really pot-holed bumpy lanes. I ran up and down the stairs. With a belly the size of an exercise ball, I had very uncomfortable sex. I even booked myself in for acupuncture, hoping that eastern medicine was the answer. But nothing. No Braxton Hicks. No gushing waters. Not the faintest hint that my baby was in any hurry to join us earthside.

In the weeks leading up to my due date I went to bed hopeful every night. Imagining that I’d wake up in the early hours and the contractions would have started. But every morning I opened my eyes a little more disheartened. But I didn’t give up. I stretched out the dog walking miles, I drank more tea, I had more sex, I did more yoga. On the 31st of March I went out for tea and (date) cake with another pregnant friend. “She may not have been early, but she’s due today!” I remember telling her.

But my baby had no interest in the algorithm. My due date came and went, and my positive attitude began to decline. 40+1, another long walk. 40+2, this could be the last bump photo! 40+3, acupuncture that resulted in me passing out. A week overdue I gave up. I didn’t want to leave my house or see my friends. My best friend who was due 2 days after me had given birth at 38 weeks and I was, whilst incredibly happy for her, very jealous. Where was my baby?

I spent my days in a haze. I had done all the planning and organising and preparing I could. Now I was waiting for the biggest, most exciting, scariest, life changing event I was ever going to experience, and I had no idea when it was going to happen.

I had spoken with my lovely midwife about induction, as I was aware I’d be offered the option to have it at 40+5 and 40+12. Amy knew I was anxious about being induced, and that I was hoping for a natural birth, preferably in water at the local midwife led unit. She calmly and kindly reminded me that “babies come when they are ready” and I could try a sweep first. I accepted her advice, keen to give birth but not eager enough to opt for induction. I had high hopes, but even after the uncomfortable membrane sweep, nothing really happened.

It was a super sunny start to spring, and I gave up on the dates, the raspberry leaf tea, the clary sage oil, the sex, the walks, the yoga. I lay in bed for hours every morning, scrolling on my phone, ignoring the copious messages from family and friends asking how I was feeling and if there had been any movement. The afternoon would roll around and I’d go and sit outside in the garden, resting a bowl of cereal on my enormous bump and feeling sorry for myself.

Fed up and desperate to still get my water birth, I discussed my options with Amy. Once I went over 40+12 my choices would rapidly decline, and I would be more likely to have a hospital birth. On Easter Sunday, I had one last sweep to try and kick things off, but I was booked in to be induced at 10am on the 12th of March. In the shower I had a word with my baby, “You really need to make a move in the next 48 hours my love, or someones going to come in and get you.”

The next day I joined an online women’s circle that included guided meditation. We were encouraged to lie down somewhere super comfy where we felt relaxed and safe. I snuggled up in bed on my side and followed the breathing exercises and the prompts to move our bodies intuitively. I drifted in and out sleep, feeling the weight lift from my shoulders and belly. A sense of what will be, will be, descended. I let go of the pressure I’d been piling on myself and felt my anxieties melt away. I finally accepted that the baby would come when she was ready, and no amount of dates, Chinese medicine or herbal remedies was going to coax her out.

At midnight, the day before I was due to be induced, I went into labour. 23 hours later I became a mum.

Lottie finally meets her beautiful baby, Bonnie.