Tokophobia - The Fear

Tokophobia is a fear of childbirth or labour.

I have 'The fear'
Big time.

 As the weeks tick by in this, our second pregnancy, I am becoming increasingly anxious at the thought of the 'final exam'. With our first there was an element of worry, obviously, but it was a fear of the unknown. It could only build to a certain level and nothing more as I didn't fully understand what there was to be afraid of. How could I? I'd never done this before. I did what I could and armed myself with as much knowledge as possible. I knew I had a pretty high pain threshold going in and I read up on all the options available to me with regards to relieving some of that pain. What more could I do?

My birth, on paper, looks like every first-time-mum's dream. No interventions, no issues, no problems of any kind really. A quick 'Achoo!' and out she popped! I barely even made a sound.

Unfortunately, what the midwives (and my husband) failed to realise at the time was that I was quiet for a very different reason to what they may have expected. Yes, my birth plan (HA!) alluded to the use of hypnobirthing techniques and maintaining a relaxed (HA HA!) atmosphere. Yes, between contractions I 'rested' as my body took over and suddenly learned how to 'power nap'. But it was not Zen I was experiencing. It was trauma.

I was quiet because I knew the only sound I could make would be an all-consuming, blood-curdling scream, and I was frightened if I started I wouldn't be able to stop.
I was still because I was trying desperately to disconnect with what was happening, to leave my body behind.
I was drifting in and out of consciousness because I was honestly, genuinely, willing myself  to die.

I wasn't pushing. I knew that. My body was contracting and the urge was there, but I ignored it for as long as I possibly could. Having never done this before in my life, I knew EXACTLY what was happening, and what would happen next. I remember saying 'I'll try a push now'. The midwives didn't even have their gloves on when she arrived, all of 2.5 seconds later.

I had pushed once.

Sounds great right?
My body didn't think so. It was too fast. She tore her way out of me before I'd even registered what was happening and 'exploded' onto my socks. I didn't even see it happening. I was facing the wrong way (on my hands and knees). Apparently she was born still inside her bag of water. There was just enough of a pause for my husband to describe the scene before him as 'weird' and 'wet' before she was in the world and sprawled across my feet.

Afterwards one of the girls commented that she was sure the only reason I hadn't fainted from shock was that I was already lying down. I fully agreed.


So as I say, on paper, one push = lovely jubbly, job done.
Reality never quite matches our expectations though, does it.