My Birth Story!!!!!

If you would have told the Sammy Summers that was found sitting on the loo holding a stick with a blue line on it in July 2019…. that by March 2020 she would of had to endure around 20 blood tests during pregnancy, a ridiculously dramatic labour which involved being induced, second degree tears and a three hour stitch up session, a four day staycation on a cramped ward with a cute lil eight hour blood transfusion for the finale … oh wait…and don’t forget to throw in a world wide lockdown once you arrive home for the fun…. she would have spat her strawberry gin out all over your face. (Um where’s your manners Samantha?) Or run far far away. Most likely to the Maldives. Pre corona yaaa knowwwwww. 

But that Sammy Summers didn’t get the memo… oh no. And on March 8th her world was turned completely upside down and there was noooo going back.

(You know how the saying goes… what goes up must come down…. what goes in must come out…. okayyyyyy moving on……) 

Screenshot 2020-03-27 at 12.45.57

EEK!!!!… Here we are… the blog we have allllll been waiting for!!!! I’ve been soooo desperate to finally get my birth story down on paper for you guys!!!! I mean… I’m still not sure if it’s all a joke/dream … because I honestly can’t believe I did it!!!

Sammy Summers actually pushed a baby out and is still here to tell the tale… just about!!!!

But before we dive in can I just start by saying that I’m very very aware that there are thousands and thousands of brave, strong, amazing women out there who give birth daily, with many brushing it all off as no big deal. And for that I will forever respect you. But for me, unfortunately it was one of the most traumatic experiences of my life (i’m sorry I honestly don’t want to scare any of you, and if your new around here you will soon realise that I’m a total wimp when it comes to hospitals) and it honestly took me a good six weeks to get over the trauma of birth. So to be four months on the other side of that whole horrendous experience now feels like a BIG DEAL and writing this blog has honestly been like therapy for me.

I still vividly remember looking my traumatised husband in the eyes after Teddy was born and screaming to him through spluttering sobs ‘NEVER. EVER. LET. ME. GO. THROUGH. THAT. AGAIN. OKAYYYYYYYYYY?????!!!!!!!’ But it’s bloody true what they say…. the pain and fear does fade away, and now I have delicious dreams of going through that all over again one day so Teddy can PG be a big brother. The thought of it makes my insides hurt. (Honestly what mush have I turned into?!?!?!)

So it can’t have been thatttttt bad right? WRONG. OH SO VERY VERY WRONG.

So WOW. Where to even begin? I mean I can’t lie.. its all about to get a bitttttt ridiculous… and spoiler alert…you might (will definitely) need a lie down after reading this! But please remember when reading this that that every birth is entirely different. And although I found my experience very traumatic, and a whole load of dramatic.

(Who me? Never!)

I know loads of people who have given birth and have walked out of hospital the next day with big smiles on their face. (Including my warrior hero sis who made the whole thing look like a breeze). So please, please don’t let this blog scare you! In fact, just spend this time laughing at me… the girl with a major hospital phobia… who wanted a calm tranquil water birth… but instead became the main character in a Christmas Day vibe episode of Eastenders…..

Ladies and Gentleman……I finally give you… MY BIRTH STORY!!!!!!

Disclaimer: This blog is not going to spare any details. So if you’re a bit funny with gory stuff it’s best to do as Will Young says and just leave right now. And for anyone that’s about to read on, I can only apologise for what you are about to witness.

Disclaimer x 2: I am so ridiculously nervous to send this blog out into the big wide world that once I press send I might throw my laptop and phone into the bin and disappear for a  little while. So see ya all in a bit its been nice knowing you all!

Disclaimer x 3: This blog has been written in a very silly and humorous way to try and make light of everything that happened. Because however horrendous it was, look at what I got at the end of it. My little Teddy Bear. The love of my entire life. Plus you know it’s not like me to be all serious and factual no matter what’s going on around me.

Screenshot 2020-05-02 at 18.33.30

Right shall we bloody get on with it then…..


Date- Wednesday 26th Feb- 37 weeks and 2 days.

Okay lets rewind and set the scene. It’s February. It’s dark, raining and cold. It’s been two days since my baby shower. I’m the size of Violet from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

Me and the hubs are off out to our fave local Italian and on the way out I just quickly go to do a one more final panic wee. You know, because the journey is all of ten mins away and the panic of needing the loo in that time is enough to send me over the actual edge. (Pregnancy problems, if you know you know.)


But in the bathroom I am stopped dead in my tracks.

“OOOHHHHHHH MYYYYYYYYYY BLOOOOOOOODY GOD. (And please excuse my french) …. WHAT THE F******* IS THAT?!?!?!??….”

Well it’s safe to say the hubs practically knocked the entire bathroom door down in fear that I had just given birth whilst I sat on the loo holding the wiped loo roll out to him in disgust/fear. We’ve been together for 13 years. There’s no secrets anymore. (And girlies before you judge.. let me tell you something… once they see you give birth there truly is no going back. Ever. They will never un see the shit fest horror show that is labour.)

We both took one look at the toilet paper and burst out laughing. Then I sobbed.

I’d only gone and lost THE SHOW!!!! THREE WEEKS before my due date!! Ummm say WHATTTTTTTT this was notttttttt part of the plan????!!!!

(For those of you right now who are… ‘The Show’ is the first sign that labour is coming your way. Don’t make me explain what it is to you. Just have a quick google and then pretend those last two seconds never happened).

Now after losing the show… most normal people would calmly get on with their life after this happens, but not me, I literally thought the baby was about to fall out of me into the toilet that very second. We quickly called the labour ward, described what had happened, for them to confirm- yes you’ve lost your show, and labour can begin anywhere from a few hours to a few weeks.


So after this very unhelpful chat with the labour ward, and still feeling extremely shaky, my next plan of action was to call my mum.. who of course was not answering her phone. After ten misscalls she finally picks up in a proper mood.

‘I’M TRYING TO HAVE A BATH’ she cried out to me in a huff.

“Well I’m sorry to ruin your evening Susan but I’ve just lost my show and thought you might be keen to know seeing as I am your DAUGHTER. YOUR FIRST BORN. HEIR TO THE THRONE.’…..


‘Oh S*** it’s not happening tonight is it? I’m really bloody tired and haven’t washed my hair’.

Ladies and gentleman. I give you my mother. My second birth partner. 

Well. Half an hour passed and I felt NOTHING. Apart from a rumbling belly. It was now 9pm and we hadn’t eaten. I was a hangry pregnant bear.

‘Shall we just go to the Belsit and if the baby comes at least it’s a funny story?’.

Well you didn’t need to tell me twice. I shuffled out of the flat wondering if I was going to give birth in a car park. And little did we know, but it actually was our last ever date night, which was romantically spent by my hubby asking if I had lost any more plug every ten mins, and if the baby was coming every ten seconds. And googling photos of other plugs (spoiler alert its a low moment of our relationship) so we could compare and contrast. (Don’t judge, we’ve all been there). 

So with our bellies full, and the anticipation and excitement building up we lived happily ever after. Until five days later.


Date- Monday 2nd March- 38 weeks.

For any of my pregnant huns or beautiful mummas reading this, I’m sure you will, like me, probably have wasted hundreds of pounds on stretch mark creams and oils, would have spent two hours applying it carefully over your sacred bump each night, and be super smug that you had smooth skin throughout pregnancy. Only to wake up on the morning of week thirty five resembling the Frosties Tiger. Sound familiar?Greeeeeeeaaaattttt!!!

This was the story of my life, and gradually day by day my new best frenemies were causing me a ridiculous amount of grief. They were dry, sore and incredibly itchy to the point I would be in floods of tears over the pain. When I went to my 38 week appointment I was told by my midwife that my stretch marks had actually developed into a skin condition/rash which is common in late pregnant called PUPPS. Oh BRILLIANT. STUNNING. WONDERFUL. This is just what every ‘about to drop pregnant girl’ needs to deal with on top of a what feels like 20 stone baby kicking their insides apart and the fear of labour. And the best thing about PUPPS… ‘There is no cure. Or treatment. It will just disappear on its own’ the midwife calmly told me while I listened on smiling and nodding whilst inside wanting to scream from the rooftops.

The next morning the pain became out of control and my bump was now red raw. I was a sobbing mess so we went straight to the hospital to get it checked over (Guys please never neglect any symptom in pregnancy, especially in late pregnancy, even if you think its something silly.) I had to endure a day of yucky tests to check that everything was okay with my bloods and my liver and all of a sudden everything stopped being fun and silly and it all became very real and scary.

A very vivid memory for me was when I went into tho hospital corridor to buy some chocolate (lol, of course) from the hospital vending machine and then out of nowhere burst out into uncontrollable sobs on my hubby. The fear and panic over everything was just getting on top of me and being in hospital was sending me over the edge. ’I don’t think I can do this’ I cried in hysterics, whilst my hubby tried to console me. ‘Sammy, you’re already doing it. You’ve been doing this for nine months’ he said. ‘Were going to meet our little baby so so soon and you are doing incredible’.

And he was right, I needed to be brave and strong for our little darling. So I squeezed his hand tightly and we spent the rest of the afternoon in hospital getting the checks we needed. And thank goodness all the results came back clear. It was such a relief to know the pupps wasn’t doing any damage inside, but I seriously didn’t think I could endure another few weeks of the pain. It was relentless and there was not a second that went by it wasn’t throbbing and burning me from head to toe….

Well you know what they say… careful what you wish for…….



Date- Friday 6th March- 38 weeks and 5 days.

So for the last two months of my life sleep was not a thing. I would get an hour here an hour there. Have to endure freezing-cold and never ending dark nights listening to the hubby snore like he was in a zoo and me needing the loo every 15 mins but taking an hour to get out the bed. It was a serious struggle.

I remember that Thursday evening feeling a bit OFF. Theres no other way to describe it apart from something just not feeling right in me. I then remember Wayne kissing me goodbye on the cheek at 8am on the Friday morning whilst I laid in bed with grey bags and see through skin in a comatose state and grunted goodbye to him whilst he went off to work.

Well.. I must of fallen into a light sleep because I started to dream a vivid montage of a tranquil river, soft lapping waves on a beach, rain trickling down onto a window sill, a dripping tap …. Oh wait I’ve woken up now…. And hold on a bloody second…

WHY AM I SOAKING WET?????????????

I shot up in sheer panic, took one look down at my sopping wet pyjama trousers, took a quick piccy for the mems and actually burst out laughing to myself.

Only I would break my waters alone. HERE WE BLOODY GO.

Right. Keep calm. Whats the first thing to do?… Call hubs. 

‘Ummmmm morning. Okay, DONT PANIC. HONESTLY NO BIGGIE AT ALL. BUT, UMMMMMM MY WATERS HAVE KINDA MAYBE BROKE’, I cried to my hubby on the phone. I could already hear him legging it out of the office before I even had time to scream to him to drive home safe.

For the next twenty minutes whilst I waited for him to come home I just sat in the same position on my soaking wet carpet in my soaking wet pyjama bottoms, not moving, staring into space and remember feeling really calm, happy and peaceful. Sorry who am I? Once Wayne got back we called the hospital together who told us to come and get checked out as soon as I could. So I called my number one hun Sue Summers to let her know that yes, this is actually happening and I hope your ready this time darling….Whatsapped a whole load of hilarious piccies of my destroyed carpet and pjs to the family to let them know what was going on. (I have no shame) and off we went to the hospital.

Everything felt very calm and surreal. I felt totally fine. It was a bright sunny day, and I weirdly felt very excited and ready to go into labour. (LOL if only I knew what was ahead)..

Once we got to the birth centre I was taken straight into a bed on one of their wards, and made to strip off downstairs. Essentially this was the start of me having to leave my dignity in the carpark because a lot, and I mean A LOT of people were going to spend the weekend seeing my bits and bobs. Girlies I was totally weirded out by this too at first and cringed and wanted to die inside at the thought of it, but trust me, by the time that baby is out you would happily go to the hospital canteen with no bloody clothes on you will be THAT OVER IT AND ZERO SHITS GIVEN ANYMORE.

So where was I? Oh yes. You know when you go to get your smear test done and you catch a glimpse of that horrifying silver contraption thing that they put inside you? *Shudders*. Well imagine that, but longer, bigger and scarier. And now imagine getting that shoved in you, having a little wriggle around, a bit of a poke here, a bit of a poke there, a scraping of the sides, sweat pouring through your body, and then the worst bit of all….the pulling out UGH….it actually turned my stomach over… to then hear the midwife utter the words…. ‘Sorry lovely, I’m afraid to say, your waters haven’t broke, you’ve just wet yourself’.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you? It sounded like you just said…. Ive…. wet….. myself… LOLLLLLL. Sorry my hearings gone all funny’….

‘No Sammy, that’s exactly what we said. We’ve just done the check, that wasn’t your water, you must of wet yourself in your sleep’.

OH. MY. F***ING. GOD. I. WANT. TO. DIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The end. Goodbye.

Well if I wasn’t a nine month preggers heffalump I honestly would have run out the hospital doors quicker than Usain Bolt and got on a plane to Australia I was that embarrassed. Also please bear in mind that my hubby earlier had made the dramatic exit from his work office when I called him saying my waters had broke. Essex gossip spreads quickly. The whole country thought I was in labour by now. But there I was, with my hubby and mum sitting next to me in a cramped ward whilst I had no knickers on being told I had wet myself. At 30 years old. I. JUST. CANT. COPE.

But, however embarrassed and confused I was, I also knew my own body, and knew what I experienced that morning wasn’t wee for goodness sake. (And can I just point out that this moment is one of many times I really really had to follow my gut during labour… more on that later..) But however much I protested that the water felt different, it was clear, didn’t smell, I would know if I wet myself considering I go to the loo every thirty minutes, they were adamant. But I was truly that confident that I knew the way the water had trickled out my body that it was different to doing a wee, I demanded a re-test. So they told me to walk around the carpark for half an hour and they would test me again soon.  (Again girlies I can’t stress enough, the reality is you are just a number to them,  please please don’t be afraid to use your voice in a time like this. You know your body better than anyone in the world).

Half an hour passed, which was spent with my mum and Wayne in hysterics taking the mick out of me, and me crying that it was a mistake. To then having to endure that hell of a test all of again… and yes you’ve guessed it…… nothing new came back from the results.

So off we went home, with my tail in between my legs feeling utterly devastated, mortified, upset and oh so very confused. I sat in silence for the hour journey home just going through everything in my mind and processing the thought that actually this baby could still be three weeks away from coming.

It was now 5pm. What a long afternoon. Realising we hadn’t got any food in the fridge Wayne announced he was going to go to Tescos to do the week food shop for us. But I insisted on making him a quick cuppa and some toast before he set off. It was the least I could do to make up for the embarrassment and shame.

It was now 5.06pm. We we’re both sat on the couch munching away on toast when all of a sudden……







‘DOOOO SOMEEETHINGGGGG. IT WONT STOPPPPPPPP’ I screamed to Wayne, who was running around the flat like a lunatic trying to call the hospital.


One minute I was eating peanut butter toast. The next- a gallon of water was pouring out of me. I’ve never felt a sensation like it.

I sat on the loo for about twenty minutes whilst the water was just falling out of me, there was no stopping it. It didn’t hurt one bit, but felt extremely strange and different to doing a wee.

I knew that whatever had happened to me earlier was clearly the beginning of my waters going, ready for the big event that afternoon. And I also knew there and then that I would always continue to follow my gut throughout the whole process of labour.

So what happened next? Another hour drive to the hospital. But this time I was wearing Waynes boxing shorts, and had three towels covering the car seat. We were in hysterics. What a crazy crazy day. I tried to put on a maternity pad but within around three seconds they were soaking wet so it was pointless. When I got into the ward I was soaked to the skin and the nurse took one look at me and knew my waters had gone. No test was needed. I was told that I had 24 hours to start contractions otherwise I needed to come back exactly at this time tomorrow to be induced due to the risk of infection after this.


And so begins our next part of the story….


Date- Saturday 7th March- 38 weeks and 6 days.

It was the strangest feeling in the world knowing that I would be in labour by Saturday evening, and that essentially, I was on a ticking time bomb with the big jackpot question being- would I go into labour naturally or not? That Friday evening, after the craziness of the day had calmed down, we got home and realised that no matter what, this was the last night of our lives that it would just be the two of us again. Woah!!!! We have been together for thirteen years so naturally this felt very strange, scary, terrifying and beyond exciting. You literally go through allll the feels when your pregnant!

It was a very lovely but uneventful twenty four hours. We got a takeaway. I bounced on my ball. My family popped in to check in on us and laugh at my gigantic bump. I bounced on my ball. We went for a walk. I bounced on my ball. Watched Beauty and The Beast. I bounced on my ball. Repacked my bag for the 10000th time. Oh and guess what I did then…. I bounced on my ball.




Even though I tried not to put any pressure on myself, naturally as the hours passed by and I felt not one ounce of pain I started to really work myself up. You all know I have a ridiculous out of control phobia of hospitals and the thought of being induced was literally my worst nightmare. 

But it sadly wasn’t to be. 3pm the next day soon arrived and I knew that my deadline had come. It was time to go to the hospital to be induced.

Oh my god. I felt sick…..

(Right. If you are still reading this (and if you are, I love you and thank you) this is where it all gets a bit WOAH. Hold on tight kids, its about to get a bitttttttt crazy in here…..)


Date- Saturday 7th March- Time- 4pm.

So here we are. With our four suitcases. (Click here to see what I packed). It’s 4pm. Me and the hubs have just checked ourselves in. (Hun are you okay? This isn’t a five star spa retreat holiday?!). 

This was actually happening. The next time I was to see day light I would please god have a baby. What the actual????

So before we jump right in can I just let you know that underneath my pile of never to be worn fresh clothes in my suitcase was my freshly printed and laminated birth plan. LOL. And that said birth plan read beautiful words of a tranquil vision where I would lay in a bubbly pool of warm water, splashing around whilst my baby calmly entered the world.

Awwww that’s a cute dream hunny, but better luck next time?

Knowing that I had no choice but to be induced was a huge huge bitter pill to swallow for me. It was the exact opposite of how I envisioned my birth to be. But of course nothing ever goes to plan in labour and all that mattered was that Teddy arrived safely. But its safe to say my anxiety was firmly in over drive and I was doing everything in my power to stay calm and to not have a severe panic attack.

The first stage of being induced meant I needed a pessary inserted into me. And cor blimey I can’t lie, it was sore as hell! After laying on the bed and being attached to a machine that was checking mine and the babies heart rate for an hour I was then told that I had another five hours for the pessary to kick in and hopefully start bringing on the contractions. 


Just like Cinderella, I had until midnight to go into labour, other wise as the clock struck twelve I was being taken into the labour ward where they would have to put me on a fake hormone drip. I had done so much research on labour and knew that the drip could be a very painful un natural experience so I wanted to do everything and I mean EVERYTHING in my power to avoid it. 

It’s extremely strange but I was basically praying for my body to feel pain.

But I still had five hours to go and knew I had to keep positive. Anything could happen in that time.

Luckily visiting hours at the hospital was between 7-8pm, so my mum and dad arrived with a pile of Mcdonalds, what legends! The four of us sat around my bed whilst we devoured big macs and chicken nuggets, chatted and laughed and everything felt strangely normal. It’s exactly what I needed to take my mind away from the reality of the ticking timer that I was on. And guess what guys… there was still no pain. Yikes!

When the clock hit 8pm I begged my dad not to leave. The four of us were having such a fun night and it was amazing being distracted by the hubble and bubble of my family causing chaos around me. I remember giggling in hysterics and telling my parents to run into the bathroom and hide if the midwife came into our room. Honestly how old are we? But actually we struck gold because it was Saturday night, the hospital seemed weirdly calm, the midwifes were chilled AF, and they didn’t chuck my parents out. So the next few hours passed by in a blur of fun. We watched Netflix, pigged out and just chatted a whole load of nonsense.

I really will forever feel SO beyond grateful that the new hospital visiting rules with Covid 19 had not changed at this point and that I was allowed to have that experience with my family because I will remember those few hours forever. 

Screenshot 2020-05-02 at 18.39.32

But mean while… ermmm guys when’s this baby coming out?????…….


It was now 11pm and I started to have slight, and I mean slight tummy ache. I WAS BUZZING. The midwife came in to do a check and said that I was 1cm dilated!!!!

HELL TO THE YEAH. Wow this whole labour mallarky was a piece of cake- BRING IT ON!!!!! 

But then when I told her that I was in bit of pain and surely I was having contractions now?? She kindly laughed in my face and said- ‘Oh. Those aren’t contractions… just you wait!!’ She also told me to start preparing for the fact that I would be making my way down to the labour ward at midnight to get on the drip.

Oh my god I felt sick to my stomach.


Please don’t make me go on that drip. Time was running out.

What was I gonna do?

I bounced and I bounced and I bounced. The seconds became minutes and the minutes became hours. My tummy was getting slightly more uncomfortable but I was sure that was the anticipation and nerves.

It was now 11:45pm. Mum, dad and Wayne had done all the pep talking they could possibly do, but it was no good. I felt ill with nerves and could have burst into hysterics at the thought of going on a drip. Anything to do with needles is honestly my worst nightmare and I knew I wouldn’t be able to cope.

11.55pm arrived. It was time. 

In approximately 3000 seconds I would do the walk of shame to the ward, and what was in my eyes, the start of the labour from hell that I would have done anything in my power to avoid.

11:56pm– ‘Guys I really don’t OW feel well. I feel really OW really bad. OWWWWWWW’.

Oh my god what was happening? I couldn’t breathe. Out of total nowhere I felt like I was being stabbed from my insides. 





11:57pm– I’m still in absolute agony. What should have been a twenty second walk across the corridor to the labour ward took five minutes, with me being held upright by my dad and hubby the whole time while I tried to breathe. I seriously did not understand how my body could feel pain that had gone from zero to hundred in the space of minutes and I started to panic that something was seriously wrong. I knew contractions would hurt, but I always thought they would start slow and then gradually get worse. And not feel like a full on stabbing attack. This was NOT what the book warned me!!!

The clock strikes midnight- I’m now in a scary room with a midwife and a team of strangers who are talking to me about the process of the drip they are about to insert in me whilst I am totally zoned out and doubled over in pain. The agony I was in wasn’t normal and I honestly felt the most horrendous I have ever experienced in my life. But fifteen minutes ago I was laughing away on my exercise ball eating hairdo. What the actual f****?

It was at that moment that my inner voice was screaming out to me to do something. I knew these midwifes had seen a million and one girls not coping with contractions and it probably meant nothing to them so if I didn’t speak out now I would forever regret it.

‘Please please please don’t put that drip in me. I’m begging you. I’m in so much pain this baby is coming out NOW’, I sobbed and sobbed.

The head doctor looked and me and my worried sick mum and hubby (who had no idea what was happening to me, when ten minutes ago I was totally fine) and calmly said ‘Oh sweetheart, you were only one CM dilated, I’m so sorry to tell you this, but this is only the beginning. Ive been in this industry for forty years and I’m afraid to say this baby is not coming out any time soon. I think you are in for a long night. This could take twenty four hours’.

Well that was that. I was an absolute sobbing mess. Guys I can’t even describe the intense pain I was feeling. I knew something wasn’t right. Surely it wasn’t normal to be in this excrutiating pain straight away to the point I couldn’t actually breathe? And if this WAS the case then how the actual hell would I get through the next minute let alone the next 24 hours????

But despite the chaos falling apart around me, I managed to still stand my ground and through the pain I begged and begged them to give me a bit more time because I knew that the way I was feeling wasn’t normal. I know my body inside out and knew that something wasn’t right, and the last thing I needed that moment was fake hormones being pumped in me.

The doctors sternly told me I had sixty more minutes and that was that. I knew they weren’t happy but it was my body and my decision. (You have a legal right to refuse anything you don’t want too FYI). They then looked at the way I was doubled over in pain and not properly breathing and warned me that not only would I probably be on the drip soon. But I would also not survive the night without an epidural. 

Wow. A double whammy of horrendous news.

A drip and a epidural. That just could not happen on my watch.

I can’t even describe how bad my phobia of needles is, and has always been. And right then I knew I would just have to deal with that pain, however bad it would continue to be through the night, because I couldn’t and wouldn’t be able to cope with an epidural. 

It’s so ironic because for the last few months I had spent hours upon hours trying to ‘hypnobirth’ and train my brain to release the happy hormone ‘Oxytocin’.

Oh Oxytocin. (By the way thats a word you will hear a LOT when you become pregnant). The books and classes will teach you that if you think happy, lovely thoughts, and make your labour surroundings peaceful, slowly breathe in and out, then you will breeze through labour. It’s a piece of cake. AND TO THINK I ACTUALLY BELIEVED THIS NONSENSE!!!!!

Well I’m sorry to report…but I can safely say that this all went to absolute … how do I put it politely… SHIT… the second I got into that labour ward.

You could have decorated the whole hospital with twinkling fairy lights, laid out a banquet of spaghetti bolognese and Nando’s.. have David Gandy serve it to me naked.


Between the hours of 12-1am, the pain intensified and it was all a gigantic blur of me sobbing, trying to get through the agony, not breathing properly no matter how hard Wayne or my mum helped me, and quite frankly just not coping at all. Every 20 minutes or so I would scream out that surely something was wrong, but the midwife just shrugged it off as a contraction, and told me to remember ‘I was only 1cm dilated’.

Kl thanks.

It was now the dreaded 1am deadline. At this moment I was in the bathroom toilet on my hands and knees on the floor. Doubled up in pain. Still sobbing. 

A fun and wild Saturday night some might say?!?

I could hear the team of doctors entering the room and at that moment I grabbed Wayne, looked him dead in the eye and screamed ‘GET ME THE EPIDURAL’.

Now for most people, that would be the normal sensible route to take. In fact I bet most of you reading this are screaming out to your computer and saying ‘FINALLLLLLYYYYYY’. DUHHHHH. IT’S A NO BRAINER.’

But I can’t even put into words how horrendously terrified I am of needles. I had spent nine months lecturing my husband to NEVER let me have an epidural, no matter what I said during labour. This is mostly because the whole procedure can take around twenty to thirty minutes whilst they insert the needle in your back and you have to keep SO STILL during the process, or else there can be utterly horrendous consequences from moving and it going wrong. I knew that was a risk I could never take with my phobia. Honestly you should see what I was like getting one small blood test, the performance I would always make was an utter joke, so I could never let myself be put in a scenario where I could risk causing serious damage to my body though moving. It was a known rule in our household. Sammy Summers and epidurals are the equivalent of Noel and Liam Gallagher. It just wasn’t gonna happen.

Whilst I begged him for it, I could see the sheer panic flash through his eyes.

Would he listen to his screaming wife who was on her hands and knees not breathing begging for a needle he knew she won’t be able to handle? Or did he listen to the Sammy Summers he knew an hour ago who warned him to never betray her and let her go through with it?

I remember the exact moment he grabbed me with tears in his eyes and said ‘Sammy I seriously don’t know what to do for you, I am so scared’, to which point I sobbed into his arms and screamed, ‘I THINK I AM GOING TO DIE’. (And I honestly meant it, I was that convinced something was wrong).

Yeah I know. The oxytocin was really working a treat.

Well. It was a no brainer for him. He ran out to speak to the doctors and get the epidural sorted. I think no matter what I may have told him, when you have someone telling you they think they are going to die you just need to follow your gut and get immediate help.

(He has since told me he cried afterwards because he was so scared about me having to go through with it and not knowing if he had made the right decision, how cute).

The doctors rushed out to sort out the paperwork and get the epidural organised. (Who knew so much went into it?) and in around twenty minutes I was to have the procedure. Gulp.


Date- Sunday 8th March- Time- 2am.

Whilst the epidural was being organised, I continued to go through hell and back in the bathroom. I’m not actually sure why I spent so much time crouched on the loo, but it seemed to be the comfiest position for me.

At around 2.20am a few minutes before I was to have the needle inserted in me, I screamed out in horror.

All of a sudden blood was gushing out of me and I truly think that is the most scared I have ever felt in my entire life. The excruciating fear that something was wrong with the baby was a feeling I will never ever forget in my entire life and will haunt me forever. My hubby ran out to grab the midwife whilst I sat and sobbed on thee floor with my mum.

And then. Just like that. Something changed in me.

‘THE BABY’S COMING’. I Screamed.

‘I SAID THE BABY IS COMING’. I continued to scream as they were all lifting me onto the hospital bed.

I truly felt like a woman possessed, with no-one listening to me.

‘WHY DOES NO-ONE BELIEVE ME. THE BABY IS COMING’, I choked through sobs and agony.

My mum and Wayne looked on in horror whilst the midwife, again, tried to explain to me that it was impossible because an hour ago I was only 1cm dilated.

‘PLEASE BELIEVE ME, I KNOW WHAT I FEEL’, I sobbed, and I grabbed Wayne and my mums hand and gave them THE LOOK. 

Meanwhile the team of doctors had arrived ready to get the epidural in me. Wonderful.

Cor blimey, Anyone else feel like they need a lay down or is it just me?

It was at that moment my mum took action and shouted at the midwife to listen to me and check me over. THANK YOU SUE SUMMERS YA LEGEND.

(Hospitals don’t like to keep checking you in case you get an infection btw.)

The next thirty seconds felt like thirty hours, whilst she checked me in silence as I continued to squeeze Wayne’s hand to get through the pain. And could see blood everywhere. I really really did not feel well. And was living a real life nightmare.

‘Um. Shes right. I don’t know how but this baby is coming. I can see their head. LETS GET THIS BABY OUT NOW’ she cried.


In the space of sixty minutes I had dilated from one cm to ten cm. 

This was totally unheard of. And explains why I was in UTTER AGONY.

For first time mums this process usually takes between 24-48 hours. What on earth was going on? My gosh this child of mine was in one big rush to come out. (I mean now this all makes sense, have you met Teddy? His the funniest lunatic I know).

(Apparently the midwifes were all talking about what happened to me for weeks after because it was that rare. Crikey!)


Date- Sunday 8th March- Time- 2.30am.

The next two hours were a total blur. I pushed and I pushed and I felt drunker than drunk. The weirdest thing of all was that my pain had disapeared into thin air. I mean don’t get me wrong… pushing a gigantic egg head out of your nun aint no breezy chilled experience, but it wasn’t painful. Just totally and utterly exhausting.

Its very strange to describe the sensation of pushing a baby out. But your body just takes control and does it all for you. You just have to be ready to push your guts out every few minutes when the contraction comes. I honestly felt as though I had been possessed by an exorcist for those two hours and was having an out of body experience. I remember my mum and Wayne screaming encouragement to me throughout the process but I was honestly in my own zone. Anyone could have been in that room and I honestly wouldn’t have had a clue.

After two exhausting and surreal hours, my entire life changed in the blink of an eye when the absolute love of my life was born and placed into my arms. I was speechless and so in love it physically hurt me.


I didn’t even need to ask whether the baby was a boy or a girl, I knew from day one that I had a little boy growing inside my tummy. (I just had that gut from the very beginning).

And there he was. After all those months of waiting and dreaming about him. My darling Teddy was here. Life would never be the same again. I loved him with every inch of my heart, and knew there and then that nothing else now mattered apart from giving Teddy the best possible life that he deserved.



And then we all lived happily ever after and went home and life was a dream.


Theres no way in the world that after that ridiculously dramatic 48 hours things would end up calm and dreamy. Oh no. Not on Teddy’s watch.

You see this little munchkin of mine was in such a rush to get out, that during the whole abnormal ‘going from 1-10cm in an hour’ scenario… ummmm…how do I put this in the most un vommy way….okay I can’t….theres no nice way of saying this….

I was ripped and torn to shreds.

Yeah thanks for that hun, love you too.

You know those text books that tell you to have that calm and peaceful ‘skin to skin hour’ to bond with your newborn..nah… unfortunately that didn’t happen for me. 

I had to casually give birth to my placenta. Kl. Oh and then SPEND THREE. YES THREE HOURS WITH MY LEGS IN STIRRUPS GETTING STITCHED UP due to second degree tears. (That took six weeks to recover).

Being a girl is just fabulous isn’t it?

I then had a rather hellish three days post labour where I had to stay in hospital and have an eight hour blood transfusion through the night because of all the blood I had lost. It was an extremely traumatic few days and its safe to say many a breakdown was had by me and I was not in a good way at all. But I don’t need to bore you with the details, cor blimey this blog is long and dramatic enough already.

It’s truly mad to think that I went into hospital with my waters breaking on the Friday and only was allowed home on the Tuesday night. What an experience. And the worst of all was that from Saturday morning until I checked out of hospital I didn’t have more than a five minute sleep. It was hell on earth. 

Screenshot 2020-03-27 at 12.46.06

Give birth they say. It’s really fun they say.

But look, at least I got home on the Tuesday night and have a decent night sleep then.

HAHAHAHA GOOD ONE. I was bringing home Teddy. The sweet, cute little munchkin who decided not to sleep until he was NINE WEEKS OLD. Fantastic. Just what I needed.

But joking aside. No matter what hell I went through, no matter how exhausted and in pain I was. I would do it all over again. One hundred times over. (Okay maybe 99) I know how extremely lucky I am to have Teddy and I don’t take one second of his life for granted. I have been truly blessed and he has changed me in every possible way for the better forever.


Do you guys believe in fate? I truly do. I have always believed that everything happens for a reason. And to this day I am choosing to believe that Teddy rushed out into the world ten days early because he knew that the world was going into lock down, and knew that I WOULD NOT COPE being induced in hospital alone and having to go through the hell of labour without my hubby or mum by my side. He also knew that I would not be able to cope if I would have had to have the epidural and hormone drip so thought what’s a few tears and rips if it means my mum won’t have any scary needles. I can’t even begin to say how truly inspired I am by how many brave and strong women there are that have had to go through that experience alone these last few months. You are all heroes. And I know just how lucky I was to be able to have two birth partners. I will never take that for granted. I know so much has changed now and I just feel so gutted for all the girls who are being denied that experience. My heart breaks for them because I know I would have felt broken! Teddy’s actual due date was the day the world went into lockdown. (Do you remember how terrifying that day was?) So my little best friend knew he had to hurry the hell up and get us home before the world went insane. I love you Teddy!

Screenshot 2020-03-24 at 12.31.49

And I think on that note, a whole 8000 words later I will love and leave you. Wow. I honestly can’t thank you all enough for reading my birth story and coming with me on this crazy ride. Its been extremely theraputic but nerve wracking taking you on my journey and I hope I’ve entertained you all with my ridiculous tale. It truly means the world to me that you care enough about me to read about my birth story and if there is one thing that I ask you to take from this blog (besides forever laughing at me) it is to please please please trust your body and gut, and to please please please always use your voice. You and your baby depend on it. If I would have been too afraid to speak out, at midnight they would have shoved a whole load of horrible fake hormones in me and I would have had an un neccasary epidural. So please always trust yourself. You and your baby are number one always and forever.

And remember. To anyone going though this or about to go through it, you are a super hero. Us girls, we rule the world!!!!!!!

Love you lots,

Sammy xxxxxx

Screenshot 2020-03-27 at 12.49.00

If you enjoyed this, please read some of my other baby blogs below.

What to Pack In Your Hospital Bag For Labour: A Complete Checklist!!!

The First Trimester Diaries!

The Second Trimester Diaries!

The Third Trimester Diaries!


  1. July 17, 2020 / 2:56 pm

    Wow what an incredible story. The most amazing highs and lows too!! I love that you can have a sense of humour about it afterwards! As you know I had a c-section so I didn’t go through any of this. I think you can request one if you suffer from birth trauma but then you do still have to have an epidural and stay in hospital. x

  2. Jade
    July 17, 2020 / 9:21 pm

    Amazing Sammy, thank you for sharing. You are a true brave hero and omg I am now reliving my own birth story and my back labour contractions!! I have had 2 epidurals and respect anyone who is brave enough to go without one because for me I wanted epidurals to ease pain and make my experience easier. You endured the pain instead so you were super brave!! Love that you wet yourself’. I NEED YOU TO WRITE A BOOK – love the humour.

Leave a Reply

Looking for Something?