A drug-free natural birth in Singapore is rarely talked about except in the case of “accidental” drug-free births, where the mother is too far along in labour for an epidural to be administered and ends up delivering the baby before drugs can be used. But why do we plan to be drugged up for one of the most amazing and natural biological processes that our bodies were made for? Why are inductions common? Why do so many births in Singapore end up in emergency c-sections? Why do we get scans by default at every doctor’s visit (if you visit a private doctor)?
These are questions I explored for myself while I was pregnant with my first, and my exploration led me to decide to try for an unmedicated labour and delivery. God had other plans, and after 48h of unmedicated labour, I took an epidural and 24h later, delivered my firstborn. It’s a story for another day that I’ll get to penning here sometime. But this story, to mark the second anniversary of the delivery of my second-born, is of my experience of the wonder that is childbirth in all its rawness and its glory. Here is my positive birth story of my unmedicated, drug-free labour and delivery of my second child.
I write this in hopes that it would encourage a mum-to-be seeking hope and encouragement for a labour to come. During both my pregnancies, I searched for positive birth stories and stories of unmedicated natural birth in Singapore, but they were far and few in between. May this story encourage and inspire you to believe that it is possible! And that it is the most amazing biological process to witness happening in your own body that you’d ever be privileged to experience.
Saturday morning, 6.30 am
I was 39 weeks pregnant, and we had just moved house one week earlier. I started my maternity leave at 38 weeks, to quickly settle the house move and hoping to be able to settle into our new home before the baby arrived. My first labour had started at 38 weeks and 5 days, and I wondered when the second would arrive.
Preparing for the second labour and delivery, I worked with my doula to process all that had happened during my first labour, and strategised how I would tackle this one. I hadn’t been able to have the unmedicated birth I wanted the first time, and there was definitely fear that my second labour would be as long and protracted as the first. We knew, however, that some of my weaknesses were my tendency to become overly cerebral, analytical and to overthink things, which does not help in labour. During my first, I had incessantly timed the contractions, thought deeply about how I was feeling, and worked myself into a frenzied state of anxiety and worry, which probably stalled labour.
So, on her encouragement, I decided that in this labour, I wouldn’t time nor count contractions, but instead lean in to what my body was doing. I would make the call as to when I wanted to go to the hospital, not dictated by X number of contractions in X minutes, but rather, by when my body felt that it needed to be in the hospital environment or when I wanted to see my doctor. I also decided that I would not overthink things, and if I were to suspect I was in labour, that I would distract myself and keep myself busy with other things for as long as possible.
On that morning, I awoke at 6.30 am to a painful cramp in my abdomen. I had been having random contractions and lots of Braxton Hicks contractions throughout the week before, so I did not want to place too much emphasis on this. We had plans for friends to come over that morning for a playdate, and I texted my friend to let her know that I might be in labour, but that I would still want her family to come over since it was unlikely to progress very quickly. Having friends around would also help in keeping me distracted.
Our friends had spent the morning with us, and I had been having contractions on and off, but I couldn’t tell you how often they were coming or for how long. I was still able to talk and move while having them. Our friends generously and lovingly decided to help us order lunch delivery, so we wouldn’t have to think about that. They also stayed in our home to keep me distracted with their wonderful presence and conversations.
Mid-day – 12 noon
By lunchtime, I had to stop talking each time I felt a contraction come, and focus on breathing through it. They were not particularly painful, but they were getting intense.
I quickly ate some lunch, half thinking that it might be my last meal for a while, then excused myself to take a hot shower and lie down. I felt that my body needed to rest in preparation for what might come next.
After a shower, I lay down for about half an hour, listening to birth affirmations and relaxing my body and mind, preparing myself for what I thought would be a marathon ahead.
3.45 pm
I felt that I couldn’t lie down for much longer, and asked Ben if he could help set up the kiddy pool in the bathroom for me to soak in. Ben had put our son down for his nap by this time, and our friends had left, so the house was quiet and calm.
He filled the pool with warm water, and I sat in it, leaning over my birthing ball and allowing my body to do what it needed. I kept my earbuds plugged in and drifted off into the zone. An hour passed without me being aware of it, and I felt a strong urge to take a dump. I moved myself to the toilet bowl and immediately felt immense pressure to bear down. I remember it feeling so intense I wondered if I would poop out my insides. Without too much gory detail, my body was clearing the system to prepare itself for the final stage of labour (as it usually does when labour progresses naturally). I also saw a lot of blood and mucus, the first show of blood that day. It was at this time that my mind finally acknowledged that I was really in labour.
5 pm
The bloody show had jolted me out of the twilight zone my mind had been in, and I suddenly became aware that my son, who had been napping for longer than usual, would soon awaken. In hindsight, I now see how God had shown grace to me by extending my then-2 year old son’s nap so that I would be able to labour quietly with my husband fully present to support me.
I remember telling my husband to check that the hospital bag was ready, and to call my mother to come so that she could watch our son while we went to the hospital. Now, prior to this day, we had briefed my mum that I did not want her to panic or be anxious around me while I was in labour, as this would affect me. She was to relax and take her time. Taking these instructions seriously, after receiving our call for help and checking that we were not in a big rush, she decided to make some detours and took almost 45 minutes to make the usual 15-20 minute trip to our house.
In the meantime, things were progressing and my mind slipped from being involved in the going-ons at home to being hyper focused on what was happening in my body. I moved from the bathroom back into our bedroom, using the birth ball and leaning over the bed for support to help me through the surges. I also asked my husband to help apply counterpressure, and use some of the techniques we had learnt to help with the surges.
My son woke shortly, and joined me in the bedroom. I felt comforted by his presence, and his cute little antics kept the mood light and my feelings positive. Yet soon, I felt like giving up. My doula, who had been communicating with my husband over the phone throughout the day, asked whether I was keen to go to the hospital then, to which I said yes.
5.45 pm
My mother finally arrived. I was unable to participate in the conversations by this point, and it was decided that all of us (my mum, my son, my husband, and my sister who had come along) would go to the hospital in my mum’s car, and she would drive back with our son after dropping us off.
My son held my hand and led me out of the house, into the lift, and to the car driveway. I had my eyes shut and was clutching a pillow with my other hand. Looking back, I now realise that the contractions must have been very close together by this point, as I was not able to hold a proper conversation with anyone.
The car ride was intense. It was without a doubt the worst part of labour, as I couldn’t shift positions to ride the waves of each surge. I clutched the handle above the car window tightly, and pulled myself up to cope each time a surge came. I could hear my breathing getting louder.
6.10 pm
After what felt like an eternity, we arrived at the hospital. I said a quick goodbye to my son and got out of the car with the help of my doula, who had been waiting for me. Later, I would find out that based on what my husband was telling her earlier in the day, she suspected that I would be coming in in the evening and she went to the labour ward earlier to prepare it for me. She gently led me by the hand to walk straight up to the labour ward while my husband had to get an ART done before he was allowed to follow.
Declining the wheelchair, we walked up the flight of stairs to the labour ward, where I had to pause a few times to get through surges before we reached the room she had already prepared for me.
I remember standing there, not very keen on getting onto the bed and getting a cervix check, especially with the bad memories of the slow progress of my first labour. I didn’t want to be checked and found to be only 1 cm along (as it happened the first time). I was praying that it would be at least 5 cm along, as that was the minimum before I would be allowed to use the tub for hydrotherapy.
“8 to 9 cm, waters intact. The head is just here.”
I felt tears run down my face and a huge relief as I was much further along than I’d ever have dared imagine. The room suddenly became a frenzy of activity, and between that and the surges I was working through, I had no idea what was going on. I was told to keep still and focus on my breathing, and not to worry as the doctor was on his way.
I was so confused, because in my first labour, I had taken hours to progress each centimetre, and being only 8 to 9 cm along, I thought I still had hours to go. Later on, I found out that I was in a situation whereby if my waters broke, the baby could arrive the very next minute as the only thing keeping her in was the pressure from my unbroken waters. I heard the nurse call my husband on the phone, telling him that he should hurry over to the labour ward. He was still waiting for his ART results and was not allowed to leave the area until it was covid-negative.
6.30 pm – ish
Both my doctor and my husband walked through the doors together. Without exchanging pleasantries, everyone set to work. This was the complete opposite of my first labour, where my husband spent 24 hours lounging in the armchair in the labour ward, watching anime. This time around, there was no sitting to be had.
My doctor asked if I would be okay with him breaking my waters. I agreed, knowing that in my first labour, I was stuck at 9 cm with unbroken waters for more than an hour, before we decided to artificially rupture it to help labour to progress. I was feeling the intensity of the labour and wanted it to end as quickly as possible. I felt my waters break, and a warm gush of fluid.
Then the pushing started. My body took over, and I tried my best to focus and follow what my body was trying to do. I was still wearing my own clothes, hugging my pillow I brought from home. Someone gently removed the pillow and told me I would need space to receive my baby.
It felt like I had hardly started pushing, when my doctor told me to stop pushing, and focus on breathing baby down and out. I felt the urge, as if constipated, to push with all my might. But his calm, assuring voice, reminded me that gently does it better. Minutes later, I heard her first wail and she was placed on my body. She had arrived.
6.39 pm
Barely 20 minutes after we arrived at the hospital, our daughter was here. I busked in the oxytocin surge and felt immensely high and satiated. After delivery, I felt much better than I did while pregnant. The discomfort in my pelvis was gone. The contractions were gone. And after delivering the placenta, my doctor announced, “no tear!”.
We waited for the cord to stop pulsating, and then had it clamped and my husband cut it. We were given the next hour to spend together in the labour ward, enjoying the first moments of skin to skin and learning to nurse before I would be transferred to the maternity ward. We video-called our son, who had just reached home and had barely started eating his dinner. It was pure bliss, and I was overwhelmed with gratitude for being able to have had the experience.
Postpartum recovery
Recovery was miles apart from what I experienced the first time. Since I didn’t have an epidural, I was allowed to move around freely, and I felt so free and devoid of pain. In the days that followed, I had the usual postpartum cramps as my uterus returned to its usual size, but apart from that, there was no pain and I had no need to take painkillers (or any medicines for that matter).
My birth plan was for a calm, unmedicated birth. I had wanted to labour at home for as long as possible, and reach the hospital just in time to push baby out. I was not sure if I could do it. But by the grace of God, and with my amazing birth support team, I was able to experience the miracle of birth in this very special way.
