Birth in Suburbia by Carol Falaki (top 50 books to read .txt) 📕
Excerpt from the book:
A fictional account of modern childbirth and a romantic novel rolled into one.
Birth in Suburbia follows the experiences of three heavily pregnant women, Debbie, Helen and Liz, taking the reader through the final weeks of their pregnancies.
It is filled with information about pregnancy and labour with strategically placed helpful tidbits of information throughout the story, although the story drives the novel so that it doesn’t feel like a data-laden textbook on pregnancy.
The story slowly builds and culminates with all three women going into labour within a 48 hour period, tied together by the midwifery student Gemma traveling to each birth and learning new things along the way. Each pregnancy and labour is very different and described in detail: a caesarean section in a hospital bed, a natural home birth on a futon, and an uncomplicated hospital delivery in an alternative position.
Expectant mothers may find plenty of information on what to expect in childbirth by reading this novel, while feeling entertained rather than slogging through a more straight-forward nonfiction text.
Birth in Suburbia follows the experiences of three heavily pregnant women, Debbie, Helen and Liz, taking the reader through the final weeks of their pregnancies.
It is filled with information about pregnancy and labour with strategically placed helpful tidbits of information throughout the story, although the story drives the novel so that it doesn’t feel like a data-laden textbook on pregnancy.
The story slowly builds and culminates with all three women going into labour within a 48 hour period, tied together by the midwifery student Gemma traveling to each birth and learning new things along the way. Each pregnancy and labour is very different and described in detail: a caesarean section in a hospital bed, a natural home birth on a futon, and an uncomplicated hospital delivery in an alternative position.
Expectant mothers may find plenty of information on what to expect in childbirth by reading this novel, while feeling entertained rather than slogging through a more straight-forward nonfiction text.
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- Author: Carol Falaki
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though she
knew it was her baby’s head she could feel pressing on her back passage.
She found that she needed to focus on allowing her baby to come and not hold back. She could feel her baby coming down, stretching, burning and stretching, and then for two contractions there was no movement.
“Aaahh, dear God.”
Ed helped her to lie on her left side. “Pant, Debbie pant,” Debbie did it. Her eyes watered and her perineum burned- how it burned- then, incredible relief.
“The head is out,” Sean told her, excitement and fear in his voice. They waited. Sean watched his infant child’s head rotate. Restitution allowed its shoulders to settle in the wider diameter of the outlet of Debbie’s pelvis. Their baby’s face was now facing her right thigh.
Ed guided Gemma’s hands to the warm head of the infant, who was poised for life, waiting, for the last contraction, the one that would push his body into the world. The contraction seemed to take an age. The baby’s mouth, wet with mucous, moved in a grimace, without breath,
“Come on, Debbie,” Ed said, “You can’t go to Asda like that.”
Debbie always said, afterwards, that Christopher was such a happy child because he was born into the world with laughter.
“I laughed him out,” she would say.
“We were all laughing, it was brilliant. The pain, it
went out like a light; that was the amazing thing, how it just stopped.”
The best thing was Christopher, being put on my bare chest straight after he was born. Sean cut the cord and I couldn’t resist trying to breast-feed him. It just seemed the thing to do. I hadn’t planned it, he was there and then he was sucking my nipple and gazing into my face like he knew me. I think he did know me already. I’d been talking to him enough, when he was inside me. He knew everything.”
Debbie had decided to have the syntometrine for the third stage of labour. This would speed up the delivery of the placenta and help prevent bleeding. Her placenta was delivered after ten minutes. Although she was sick afterwards, her blood loss was minimal.
Ed told her she would have a vaginal blood loss, which would gradually fade during the next few weeks.
Debbie was disappointed that she needed some stitches, just when she thought it was all over, there was still that to go through. Lying there, with her legs in stirrups, she felt exposed and helpless, but it needed to be done and she was really too tired to care at that moment.
Sean took the opportunity to telephone the office, before anyone had arrived.
“Won’t be in, had a baby boy, taking paternity leave,” was all he said to the answer machine.
He felt relieved, and very happy. He would find another job. Michael had said he had some contacts. Sean felt confident, things would work out.
“Superb timing, Debs,” he said, when he came back from the phone. Debbie was having her legs put down on the bed. “I won’t need to go in until this is all out and sorted, if the firm is still up and running.”
She smiled at him; there were tears in her eyes. “My mum was here, Sean, I think I had one of those out of body experiences, I saw my mum, and she wasn’t alone.” Sean nodded, and kissed her on the forehead.
It was Sandra, she thought, Jonathan’s mum who was with her.
Debbie couldn’t tell Sean, not now, that she had seen the photograph in Michael's house, this was not the time or place for that discussion, but Debbie was sure, she recognised her from the photograph. Sandra was there, with her mum, and she had come to thank her. Then she recalled the words of the old woman. The retired midwife she met outside the bistro. It seemed like so long ago. “Mothers never leave their children.”
Debbie’s thoughts turned to Helen, to Liz, and to Chrissy.
“We are all mothers now,” she said, smiling down at the baby in her arms.
Ed and Gemma handed Debbie’s care over to a midwife from the day shift, to complete the
documentation and see Debbie safely up to the post-natal ward.
Gemma was tired but happy, her weekend had been very busy and she had a lot of sleep to catch up on, especially after having worked a night shift on Friday, with an emergency caesarean section with Helen, then being called out of her bed on Saturday afternoon for the last couple of hours of Liz’s home birth. She didn’t mind, it was an opportunity she had not wanted to miss.
Now with Ed she had witnessed a hospital birth just how it should be. A hospital birth which had left the power where it belonged, with the woman in labour; and she had learned so much. She would sleep all day, and all night if she could. There was so much to think about.
She said goodbye to Debbie, Sean and Christopher, who was now sleeping in his father’s arms, and thanked Ed, hoping she would have the opportunity to work with her again.
Ed said her goodbyes. Tired and stressed, still, she had to admit to herself, there was something about this job that was deeply satisfying at times. As if embroiled in the ups and downs of a tumultuous love affair, she was hooked and ready for her next encounter.
“See you tomorrow, seven-thirty,” she called as she walked down the corridor and off the labour ward.
Imprint
knew it was her baby’s head she could feel pressing on her back passage.
She found that she needed to focus on allowing her baby to come and not hold back. She could feel her baby coming down, stretching, burning and stretching, and then for two contractions there was no movement.
“Aaahh, dear God.”
Ed helped her to lie on her left side. “Pant, Debbie pant,” Debbie did it. Her eyes watered and her perineum burned- how it burned- then, incredible relief.
“The head is out,” Sean told her, excitement and fear in his voice. They waited. Sean watched his infant child’s head rotate. Restitution allowed its shoulders to settle in the wider diameter of the outlet of Debbie’s pelvis. Their baby’s face was now facing her right thigh.
Ed guided Gemma’s hands to the warm head of the infant, who was poised for life, waiting, for the last contraction, the one that would push his body into the world. The contraction seemed to take an age. The baby’s mouth, wet with mucous, moved in a grimace, without breath,
“Come on, Debbie,” Ed said, “You can’t go to Asda like that.”
Debbie always said, afterwards, that Christopher was such a happy child because he was born into the world with laughter.
“I laughed him out,” she would say.
“We were all laughing, it was brilliant. The pain, it
went out like a light; that was the amazing thing, how it just stopped.”
The best thing was Christopher, being put on my bare chest straight after he was born. Sean cut the cord and I couldn’t resist trying to breast-feed him. It just seemed the thing to do. I hadn’t planned it, he was there and then he was sucking my nipple and gazing into my face like he knew me. I think he did know me already. I’d been talking to him enough, when he was inside me. He knew everything.”
Debbie had decided to have the syntometrine for the third stage of labour. This would speed up the delivery of the placenta and help prevent bleeding. Her placenta was delivered after ten minutes. Although she was sick afterwards, her blood loss was minimal.
Ed told her she would have a vaginal blood loss, which would gradually fade during the next few weeks.
Debbie was disappointed that she needed some stitches, just when she thought it was all over, there was still that to go through. Lying there, with her legs in stirrups, she felt exposed and helpless, but it needed to be done and she was really too tired to care at that moment.
Sean took the opportunity to telephone the office, before anyone had arrived.
“Won’t be in, had a baby boy, taking paternity leave,” was all he said to the answer machine.
He felt relieved, and very happy. He would find another job. Michael had said he had some contacts. Sean felt confident, things would work out.
“Superb timing, Debs,” he said, when he came back from the phone. Debbie was having her legs put down on the bed. “I won’t need to go in until this is all out and sorted, if the firm is still up and running.”
She smiled at him; there were tears in her eyes. “My mum was here, Sean, I think I had one of those out of body experiences, I saw my mum, and she wasn’t alone.” Sean nodded, and kissed her on the forehead.
It was Sandra, she thought, Jonathan’s mum who was with her.
Debbie couldn’t tell Sean, not now, that she had seen the photograph in Michael's house, this was not the time or place for that discussion, but Debbie was sure, she recognised her from the photograph. Sandra was there, with her mum, and she had come to thank her. Then she recalled the words of the old woman. The retired midwife she met outside the bistro. It seemed like so long ago. “Mothers never leave their children.”
Debbie’s thoughts turned to Helen, to Liz, and to Chrissy.
“We are all mothers now,” she said, smiling down at the baby in her arms.
Ed and Gemma handed Debbie’s care over to a midwife from the day shift, to complete the
documentation and see Debbie safely up to the post-natal ward.
Gemma was tired but happy, her weekend had been very busy and she had a lot of sleep to catch up on, especially after having worked a night shift on Friday, with an emergency caesarean section with Helen, then being called out of her bed on Saturday afternoon for the last couple of hours of Liz’s home birth. She didn’t mind, it was an opportunity she had not wanted to miss.
Now with Ed she had witnessed a hospital birth just how it should be. A hospital birth which had left the power where it belonged, with the woman in labour; and she had learned so much. She would sleep all day, and all night if she could. There was so much to think about.
She said goodbye to Debbie, Sean and Christopher, who was now sleeping in his father’s arms, and thanked Ed, hoping she would have the opportunity to work with her again.
Ed said her goodbyes. Tired and stressed, still, she had to admit to herself, there was something about this job that was deeply satisfying at times. As if embroiled in the ups and downs of a tumultuous love affair, she was hooked and ready for her next encounter.
“See you tomorrow, seven-thirty,” she called as she walked down the corridor and off the labour ward.
Imprint
Publication Date: 12-08-2008
All Rights Reserved
Dedication:
To my mum Jo
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