I wanted to share my pregnancy and birth story with you lovely women in yoga. It may be a real long read, but it's hard to describe the miracle of life in just a few words.
Pregnancy
After trying to get pregnant for a year, my fiancé and I, impatient, sought help at Sunna Fertility. All our tests came back normal, and the conclusion was that we were simply unlucky and were advised to keep trying. After 20 months of ovulation tests, negative pregnancy tests and disappointment, we began planning IVF.
I was to start injecting medication on the second day of my period, and egg retrieval was to take place a few days later. On the day my period was due, I took my monthly pregnancy test, prepared to see just one line, but lo and behold, there were two. A miracle. The IVF was cancelled. A few weeks later we saw a tiny heartbeat on an early scan, and we were given a due date of 22 September 2025. Now my little heartbeat is three months old, sleeping outside in her pram.
The pregnancy went fairly well. I was diagnosed early with carpal tunnel syndrome (numbness in the hands) and slept with wrist splints for months. At 26 weeks I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes, but with a good diet I managed to keep it under control. I have every sympathy for those who know these pregnancy ailments, it wasn't always easy. Especially in 36-degree heat in Croatia, when you couldn't even have an ice cream!
I'm a police officer, and in the summer I started coming to pregnancy yoga with Auður with other pregnant police officers, which is a bit out of character for a group of cops, but we absolutely loved the classes. We also went to the "Yes, darling" couples course, which was a fun evening (we were the second couple to bring our own yoga ball, if you remember, Auður). The pregnancy went on and our little girl thrived. I loved my bump and never felt cuter than when I was heavily pregnant, sun-kissed and freckled after a sunny summer of swimming.
Birth
On 21 September I went to a friend's baby shower on the third floor of a building with no elevator. I felt good, and people's eyes went wide when I said my due date was tomorrow. When I got home I recorded a short video talking to my little girl in my belly, telling her there was no news even though the due date was tomorrow. I highly recommend this, I treasure that video today.
Around 6 pm that same day I started getting pains low in my belly that went down into my bottom, and I began noting them down and timing them in Notes. I didn't dare hope that labor was starting, so I named the note "Pains" instead of "Contractions", which it really should have been called. My fiancé came home around 7 pm after a 12-hour shift as a police officer, and I told him, though doubtful, that I suspected I was in active labor.
From 6 pm to midnight the pains came closer together. I breathed through them with a kind of ocean breath and moaning. I sent my fiancé to lie down because I wanted him rested for what was ahead. He protested but made me promise to wake him if anything happened. I recorded another video talking to my little girl, telling her what was going on and how excited I was for the task ahead.
Around 1 am, when the pains were 4–5 minutes apart, I called the maternity ward and was told to come when the contractions were 3 minutes apart. I was advised to take painkillers and have a shower or bath to make the pains more bearable. I followed that advice, but when the pains, which I now knew were contractions, washed over me, I got down on all fours and mooed like a cow in the shower. Luckily it's a roomy shower.
I also had something to eat, bouncing on a yoga ball, because I'd heard women often aren't allowed to eat once they're at the hospital and in labor. When the contractions got so bad that I wanted to scream, I called the maternity ward again and was told to come, even though the contractions were still 4 minutes apart. I woke my fiancé and he sprang to his feet. He took our long-packed bags out to the car and also packed homemade ham croissants and date bars, which were a lifesaver after the birth.
Auður is right, you feel every pothole on the way to the hospital, like the princess and the pea. We arrived at the hospital around 3 am. I was examined and told I was 8–9 cm dilated, which was quite remarkable for a first-time mother. 8–9 cm! I could have gone to the hospital long before, but oh how happy I was to be so far along. I was whisked into a birth room and a bath was run for me, as I had wished to be in the bath.
I was given gas, which eased the pain and carried me through the rest of dilation in the bath. My fiancé played Icelandic pop songs, as I had wished. I was on my knees in the bath, mooing deep into the gas mask as each contraction came and went. Between contractions I lay back in the bath and tried to relax, while my fiancé misted me with Lavender-Lime water as if I were a thirsty plant in a sunny living room window. I pushed for three long hours on my knees in the bath, and at 09:03 on my due date, six hours after we arrived at the hospital, our daughter came into the world. A screaming miracle.
Our girl weighed 15 merkur and was 53 centimeters, with dark hair, chubby cheeks and a big voice. I was surprised by all the activity after the birth. Then came uterine massage, heavy bleeding, checks and stitches for three hours. By noon it was finally all over and we were left in peace, just the three of us. Everything was perfect. Two days later I told my fiancé I'd happily do it again. A few weeks later we held a naming party, and by then our little lady had become a blue-eyed little blonde who was named Alma, a name that means warm-hearted, gentle and generous, which we think suits her well.
