Thursday, 2 May 2013

Sages VBAC at Home (with a fathers view)


Sage Catherine was blissfully home birthed on the 6th of December 08. She weighed 4.2kg, 53cm long and is cute as a button!


Learning to trust...

Sage’s birth story begins in June 05 when I had my first ectopic pregnancy. I was distraught to have lost my first baby, and even more so when only three months later I lost my second baby to a cornual ectopic pregnancy, which ruptured and damaged the top left hand side of my uterus.

When I fell pregnant with Jedd I was absolutely overjoyed that he was in the right place! However, this joy was short-lived and I was shattered to be told by my obstetrician that both myself and my baby could die if I went ahead with a natural birth – that a caesarean was my only option. Because of the ectopic pregnancies I had already lost faith in my bodies ability to function ‘normally’, so I accepted the caesarean.

Jedd was born safely into the world in May 07 – but I constantly questioned the necessity of his unnatural birth. Sure, he was healthy and alive – that’s all a mother can ask for, right? No. There was something missing – something very important.

I then stumbled across the film ‘Business of Being Born’ and my hopes and dreams of having a natural water birth came flooding back. I began doing some long over-due research into the realities of having a natural birth post cornual ectopic, and was surprised to find that there was no medical research indicating that it’s unsafe. Why then, did my obstetrician encourage me to have a caesarean for Jedd?

I had heard about VBAC’s (vaginal birth after caesarean) and when we discovered that I was pregnant I decided that I would try again for the natural birth that I longed for. Knowing full well that my best chances of having a successful VBAC were to stay at home, I began searching for a midwife. Once I met our Midwife I knew that I had found the midwife for me, and we began meeting regularly for check-ups. It was so lovely to be able to stay at home for her visits – I could plan our visits around Jedds nap times, and he could get to know her a bit better as well. The thought of taking a young toddler into a hospital for ante-natal visits made my blood pressure rise!

Despite preparing myself for a 42-43 week pregnancy, I secretly hoped that my baby would make her debut soon. I had an acupuncture treatment on Tuesday, two days before my due date. I then had another treatment on the following Monday and then an induction treatment on Friday. Thursday night my mucous plug had began falling out, and by the end of the induction treatment on Friday my instincts told me that I would be meeting my baby very shortly.

The Birth

Grant and I were enjoying some quiet time together on Friday night when I first realised that I was having surges. At about 9pm I thought that it would be wise to head to bed, then at 10pm I dragged Grant and myself to bed so we could get some sleep before things heated up. I slept for two hours with a heat pack strapped to my back, then Grant heated it up for me again at midnight and I slept for another two hours. At 2am I could no longer sleep through the surges and decided to get up out of bed and begin preparing to meet my baby.

I sat, I stood, I swayed, I walked and I waddled for the next few hours. As the surges came, I envisioned them as waves. I would watch the waves roll into the shore, stand in the cold sea water momentarily and then felt the water recede from my feet as the wave rolled back out to sea. This visualisation made the surges much easier to deal with, and calmed me immensely. It made the surges easier to breathe through as I could pinpoint the moment that the cold water would reach my feet and make me quickly catch my breath.

My doula arrived in the midst of my breathing and settled herself in the lounge. As Doula continued to assure me that I was progressing beautifully, I found her presence to be calming and soothing. Her and Grant tag-teamed with my neighbour to babysit Jedd, and they continually kept My Midwife and Mum up-to-date throughout the birth; they did such a great job of it that I was oblivious to the majority of what was happening around me as I was able to focus on bringing my daughter earthside. Grant’s encouragement through the whole birth was incredible, as he offered me water, powerade, natural lollies and food to keep my energy up.

As my lower-back began to ache, and the surges became stronger, longer and closer together, Grant began to fill the birth pool for me. Once I lowered my body into the warm water I felt instant relief and was able to relax into the surges once again. My doula gave me a pillow to rest on and lean over on the edge of the birth pool which helped me balance comfortably.

Tiredness began take its toll, so my doula suggested that I lay down in bed for a little while and see if I’m able to rest easier in between the surges. So off I trundled and surprisingly was able to get about an hour of sleep, waking periodically to rock my body gently through the surges, then napping again until the next one arrived. When I woke up I had a shower to refresh and re-energise myself and the surges returned with much more intensity and regularity.

I began to baby dance my way around the lounge room once again, keeping upright and rocking my body with the surges. I moved regularly between the birth pool and the lounge, swinging and swaying all the while. Soon after I began to feel the urge to push, but since we weren’t sure if it was simply the positioning of the baby pushing against my bowel, or the baby telling me that it was ready to join us, I held off for my midwife to arrive.

By early afternoon my midwife arrived and confirmed that I was 8cm dilated. I glowed in the achievement of my progress so far. We were almost there! Well – we THOUGHT I was almost there... turns out I still had quite a few hours of work ahead of me.

As the urge to push became stronger, I listened to my body and went with the flow. After pushing for an hour with no result, Betty checked bub to find that she had turned posterior. No wonder this pushing caper was taking so long!

I never felt disturbed or upset about bub being posterior. I knew that I still had the ability to birth her naturally – but there were definitely moments of sheer exhaustion that I felt ready to give up and let ‘someone else’ take over. My pride, determination and sheer stubbornness drove me to push on though – and the knowledge that I was so close to meeting my baby encouraged me to push even harder.

The surges continued coming regularly, and Sage’s heart rate remained constant and steady. I continued keeping active in between surges, but always found myself bearing down on all fours against the lounge when the urge to push arose.

After four hours of pushing, my midwife suggested that laying down on the lounge would help bub to manoeuvre her way through my pelvis, given her posterior position. And much to my surprise – it worked! As bub began to crown, the sheer excitement in Grant’s voice motivated me to push on through the burning sensation. “She’s almost here babe, you’re so close!” I reached down and felt her soft head covered in hair and was inspired immediately – I knew I could do this!

Another hour and a half later, I finally birthed Sage. Grant reached down and caught his daughter, lifting her straight up onto my chest. Love instantly swept over me as I held my baby. The pride of achieving the ‘impossible’ empowered me. And relief that the past 24 and a half hours of birthing was over!

She opened her eyes and gazed up at me with such intensity. I introduced myself to her as her Mummy, and within twenty minutes or so, Sage instinctively found her way to the breast and attached perfectly!

Trust Restored!

I now realise that THIS is what birth is all about. Women trusting their bodies to do what we’re designed to do. Babies being born when they’re ready, and being allowed to bond with their mothers straight away rather than being whisked off to cold sterile rooms to be poked and prodded. I feel sad that Jedd missed out on so much – but I thank him every day for enlightening me that his sister might be born the way that nature intended.

Rivis Unassisted VBAC at Home

I have no idea how to begin writing this birth story – the birth itself was so incredibly fast that there isn’t really much to recount; but the pregnancy was a different story!
The whole way through the pregnancy I had felt uncomfortable.  I truly believed that something was going to go wrong.  After having two previously uneventful pregnancies, I really had no reason to feel this way – but I couldn’t shake it.  Then at 34wks pregnant I began itching.  Blood tests indicated that I may have obstetric cholestasis, a disease which I was not prepared to battle with in order to gain my second HBAC (Home Birth After Caesarean).  I began preparing to meet my belly babe by 37wks.  Even so, in the hopes that I may somehow beat the disease, I changed my diet, began acupuncture and chiropractic care, and within three weeks my blood tests had returned back to perfectly normal levels!  I continued having blood tests every week and still, they were back to normal.  My plans for HBAC were back on the table!

In those 3 short weeks that I had began preparing to meet my baby before my EDD, I had completely lost focus on allowing my belly babe to arrive in her own time, as I had began using natural induction techniques in a vain attempt to bring on labour.  Needless to say, they didn’t work!  Hundreds of dollars spent on acupuncture, naturopathy, herbs, tinctures and tonics… but my baby came when it suited her best.  And I’m so thankful that she did!

By the time 41wks rolled around I gave in.  I gave it to the gods, completely surrendered and stopped all induction techniques.  Those final 5 days of pregnancy were bliss!  My head didn’t feel so foggy, I didn’t feel any pressure to meet an expiry date, and I spent quality time with Grant and the kids.  I can honestly say that by forgetting about WHEN I was going to meet my baby, I allowed myself to relax enough for her to make her perfect debut.

When labour did finally kick in at 41+5, I was completely ready for it.  Grant had began his leave from work and I felt supported and assured.  Jedd and Sage had unfortunately had gastro two nights previously and Grant woke up in the early hours of the morning with vomiting and diarrhoea.  I woke up a few hours later with a little bit of vomiting, but mostly diarrhoea.  Thankfully Jedd and Sage had recovered well and were booked into daycare that day.  So after dropping them off early, we hopped into bed for a couple of hours of catch-up sleep.  This is when my surges began – as soon as I laid down!  They came every 10-15 minutes, and I would wake and rock my body through it, then lay back down for some more sleep.  After 2hrs of rest I had a hot shower and the surges became a bit more intense – so I did what anyone does when they’re expecting to have a baby and went straight back to bed for another 2hrs!  I kept this pattern up all day and finally got out of bed at 4pm.

I called my friend to come around to hang out with me while Grant went to collect Jedd and Sage from daycare and grab some take away for them all for dinner.  My friend arrived at around 5:30pm and we chatted away in the kitchen for an hour.  I had to stop chatting when the surges hit, lean on the kitchen bench and rock my body through them.  Whenever we stopped talking, my friends 5 month old son would gabble away – it was so sweet!  Almost like he was talking to my unborn babe, and it reminded me what this was all about; meeting my baby!  In that hour my surges picked up quite a bit.  When my friend arrived they were still 9-12 minutes apart, but by the time she left at 6:20pm they were coming every 2-4 minutes and lasting for about a minute each.

Because Sages birth had gone on for 24hrs, I still felt like I had a long way to go and so texted my midwife to let her know where I was at.  She asked if I wanted her to come over yet – I ummed and ahhed and finally said that she should have some dinner first and take her time, but to head over when she was ready.  I texted my photographer at the same time and she arrived first.  Just as well really – I’m glad she got some photos of me in labour at all!

My photographer arrived just after 7pm and I was well and truly in labourland.  My candles were lit, my birth affirmation posters were on the wall and the birth pool was being filled.  None of it meant anything at the time though – my body had a job to do and my focus was on bringing baby earthside.  I swayed my body through each surge and after a few more rushes went to sit down on the toilet.

Squatting down was the most amazing feeling – I rocked my body forwards and backwards through the surges, feeling every motion and movement within.  Then the most incredible thing happened – I felt my body pushing!  I had never felt this before, the intense urge to bear down.  There was no fighting it, my scarred uterus was pushing my baby earthside.  The very same uterus that had been sliced open for a caesarean; the uterus that had ruptured from a cornual ectopic pregnancy…  this uterus was so strong and powerful that it hugged and squeezed my belly babe earthside.

I went back to the floor beside the birth pool and got down on all fours – this pushing felt so good!  I could hear my voice rising and my face tensing, so focused on relaxing my jaw and lowering my voice.  I reached down and could feel my babies head.  The pool was too hot to get in, so whilst Grant bucketed hot water out and put cold water in I kept on all fours, rocking and feeling my body gently embracing my belly babe.

Finally I couldn’t stand it any longer – I NEEDED to be in that birth pool!  It felt close enough to being the right temperature so I just hopped straight in and discovered that it was perfect.  Time to meet my baby!

Grant took his shirt off and hopped in the pool with me.  Sage sat on the bed, watching on in anticipation.  Jedd slept soundly.  Three or four more pushes and Rivi made her way earthside into Daddies waiting hands!  He lifted her straight up to my chest and I closed my arms around her little body.  Love.

Five minutes later my midwife came running in, and ten minutes after that I birthed the placenta.  Everything was perfect and exactly as it should be.  I felt empowered, amazed that I had achieved my second VBAC and in awe of it happening so quickly!  I had never expected to have such a short labour and birth – it really took me by surprise.  Rivi weighed 9lb 11oz, measured 57cm long and had a head circumference of 34cm.  She was far too long for the 0000 outfits that I bought her and went straight into 000!

Rivis birth taught me how important it is for women to be able to continue birthing at home assisted by a midwife.  Even though Rivi arrived before my midwife did, homebirth needs to remain an option for women to choose when deciding where they wish to give birth.  My daughters deserve the right to choose birth at home with a midwife and I will continue to write my letters, rally and protest for their maternal rights to be protected.  If I don’t, who will.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A Fathers View 

I asked my husband to write his version of our homebirths in order to share with other fathers out there.  A partners point of view in a birth is quite often significantly different to that of his birthing partner and I feel it is very important to create an awareness and understanding of this difference.  This recognition allows fathers to learn how to best support his partner during childbirth and the immediate post-partum period.  Enjoy the following birth stories :)

Sages VBAC at Home

“Oh Sh#t”. This is how my birth story began. Alicia, my wife’s birth story began about 20 seconds earlier when she read the home pregnancy test, telling her we were about to have our second child. I don’t swear often, so after Alicia told me the news those two words summed up my temporary shock and fear quite well. The news was unexpected but very welcome. Indescribably it also felt meant to be.

To be honest we both wanted a larger gap between children, but we saw the benefits of having our children younger and closer together. Jedd our first child, who was just rudely awoken by a new word, was only ten months old at the time.

We very soon began talking about the type of birth we wanted to have. It was less about baby names, buying new clothes and toys but about preparing for the birthing experience. This desire was strongly felt by Alicia. Her birth experience with Jedd was less than perfect. We both love Jedd more than the world and wouldn’t change a thing about him. But if this was going to be our last child the birth has to be more meaningful, more empowering and more spiritual. It has to be our birth, done our way.

When Alicia sets her mind to something she can’t be deterred. It may be called stubbiness, but in this case it was a stubbiness backed up with thorough education, knowledge and a clear minded conviction. We had been told after two ectopic pregnancies that a caesarean was our only safe option. We ignorantly accepted that verdict. For our next birth Alicia wanted a natural birth at home with our choice of midwife and with our choice attendees. We now knew we could do this safely and I felt it was my job to do everything I could to assist her to have the birthing experience she wanted.

My inspiration to support my wife wasn’t just to please her but because of the knowledge that there was no medical reason why we couldn’t have a VBAC at home. I believed in the benefits that a natural birth has on mother and child. Not just during the experience but long after. The risks involved were no greater at home than in a hospital, especially with the wealth of experience we were to have with our midwife and doula present. I believed that listening to the needs of my wife would ensure a better outcome for her and child and increase our chances of a successful birth.

The lead up to the big moment was fairly relaxed. I had been granted leave two weeks prior to the due date and had the peace of mind knowing that I didn’t have to be at work again until almost two months after our due date. Not that the due date meant much to us. The baby was going to come when baby was ready.

It was Friday the 5th of December at around 10.30pm when Alicia said, “Grant I think we should get some sleep, I think this is the night”. I had grown a little complacent. We were almost two weeks over due and thought this was just another fleeting bout of Braxton hicks. I did what I was told and went to bed. At 2am Alicia woke me and said, “It’s time to get up, were having a baby”.

We gave our midwife a call and told her how the contractions were going. She didn’t seem too alarmed with our progress, but we felt things were beginning to happen very quickly. Without too much discussion we decided to call our doula and she came over almost instantly.

This is where in retrospect I clicked and took on the role of protector of Ally’s birth place and provider for all her needs. I wanted to play a pivotal role in the birth experience and be a pillar of strength and support.

As Alicia began to focus and become in tuned with the rhythms of her birthing body I carried on with the job I had to do. I set up the birth pool, the lounge room with towels and sheets, candles were lit. I was constantly on hand with a cold drink the supply of a fresh heat pack a lower back massage or positive words of encouragement.

What struck me early on with the ebb and flow of the obviously painful contractions was Alicia’s innate poise and coping abilities. Watching her was extremely natural and amazing. She knew exactly what to do. She described the earlier stages of the birth as a dance. In many ways that was true. She was always on the move and she did it in such a graceful smooth way. It was stirring to see her trust her body after all the doubts and negativity she had experienced over the past couple years.

As midday approached the contractions continued as strong as ever and the first signs of exhaustion were setting in. Our doula suggested that Alicia lie down in bed for a while, have a shower, which should revitalise her for the final stretch home. During this time I updated Alicia’s nervous mother on her fantastic progress. I had at least half a dozen missed calls and messages but she needn’t have worried. I also called our midwife and strongly suggested that time was nigh and her presence would be needed soon.

After Alicia’s rest she had increased vitality, which was matched by the surges. An urge to push was developing and I had renewed urgency for the midwife to arrive. Our doula had the same feelings of anxiety, yet we made sure our emotions were hidden from Alicia. It was of priority to protect Alicia from any negativity or stress.

A point was reached where Alicia knew she was ready to push. Again I called the midwife and thankfully she was already on her way. When she arrived Alicia was at 8cm. All the pain and exertion up until this point was validated when we believed we were almost there. Well so we thought.....

What happened over the next 6 hours was the most intense, challenging and emotional event in my life so far. Although in the moment time didn’t exist. Alicia was transferring from position to position slowly making good progress. The baby’s heart beat was constantly monitored and not once did she falter. It was great to hear her, but what was truly amazing was when I saw her for the first time. Again that was another moment where Alicia’s energy and determination re-energized.

At this stage Alicia found an inner strength that will inspire me for the rest of my life. The baby was discovered to be posterior which stalled her progress down the birth canal. There were moments where morale waned and tempers frayed. Bub at times just didn’t seem like she could move any further and it seemed the effort put in wasn’t providing considerable progress. Transferring to hospital was on all our minds but I didn’t want to accept that. Having this baby at home meant too much to us. There were serious concerns for the baby in this stalled state but her heart rate remained strong and constant.

Eventually Alicia settled in a position on our couch and the progress took an exciting turn. Baby’s head began to crown. Slowing but gradually our little girl moved closer to our world. Alicia pushed with every reserve of determination she could muster, reached down and touched her daughters head and mixed tears of pain with joy. Not long after our girl was finally here. I nervously caught her and passed her to the loving arms of her mother. Nothing could be more beautiful. The child’s eyes intensely gazed upon her mum.

I felt so overjoyed for Alicia. She had fought for so long and so hard and in the end she achieved everything she wanted. I love my wife and respect her, but now I was also in total awe.

We named our gorgeous girl Sage Catherine, which we thought was a beautiful name. But what we didn’t realise at the time was that Sage also means to heal. It was a profound discovery because that’s exactly what she did. She healed the old wounds of self doubt that Alicia had about her body. Having Sage naturally, proved that she could trust her body to do what it was meant to. It gave Alicia the fulfilment she yearned and the loving natural start in life that Sage deserved.

Rivis Unassisted VBAC at Home

My wife asked me, “When did Rivis birth story start for you?”

The answer to the question wasn't totally clear. It could have began when we first learned of her growing presence; or when we first met our midwife and began discussing the birth. Or even the morning of the birth, lying in bed with my wife when the first signs of labour were dawning. Yet the question sparked a whole different train of thought about time itself, specifically our obsession with time, and our compulsion for a linear start and end to lifes experience.

Our choice to have a homebirth was in part a rebellion against the bureaucracy of birth in our society, and its incessant need to be on the clock during birth. Having to set a date, make inflexible hospital appointments, and being under pressure to 'pump out' a baby before the obstetricians planned round of golf.

We wanted the birth to be on our terms, our time. Or more accurately, birth when our baby was naturally ready to arrive, Rivis Time. Escaping a linear time schedule and having a birth in synchronisation with the true 'cyclic' nature of time, that is, no beginning and no end. In the days leading up to the birth both our elder children had severe gastro; and on the before mentioned morning, lying in bed with my wife, I too was suffering from the same bug. The day progressed very uneventfully – I dropped our children off to daycare and answered the carers question for the millionth time, “No, we still haven't had the baby.”

Ally and I spent a wonderful day relaxing timelessly in bed, resting, recovering and preparing for the birth of our new family member. By the early afternoon the signs of birth began to escalate. I collected our children from daycare whilst a close friend stayed with Ally. On arriving home, her contractions had strengthened and labour was well established. Everything was now occuring in fast-forward and I jumped aboard this ride and into a time-warp.

I was cooking dinner, bathing children, dressing children, talking to Ally, setting up the birth space, filling the birth pool, reading stories, putting children to bed, checking in on Ally, emptying the pool, refilling again, settling the children, hosting our photographer... “Grant! The baby is coming!”

At this stage our midwife had not yet arrived but was on her way. Fortunately, not aboard the Millennium Falcon, but her reliable birth-mobile. Yet our new baby was not waiting for the stage to be set – she was ready! She was 41+4 at this stage, overdue by most medical definitions but perfectly on time according to her biological time-piece, biding her time until the precise moment and then blasting her way into our world; hence her temporary nickname of Rivi-Rocket!

So with our 3yo daughter Sage standing on the bed, our wonderful photographer silently and skillfully observing the moments of our birth, Ally and I entered the pool. In between the penultimate and ultimate contractions, I leapt from the pool and unlocked the front door so our midwife could enter when she arrived. An urgent call to “Hurry Up!” came from the pool and without hesitation or thought I was guiding my new daughter into the waiting hands of her mother. A breath was now required. And then a brief reflection of what just happened in the last one and a half hours. Another breath, and then momentous feelings of joy and accomplishment, watching my perfect child cradled in her mothers arms.

Our midwife arrived shortly later and I gratefully let her calmly assist Ally with the next stages of birthing the placenta and checking Rivis vital signs. During this respite I woke our son so he could meet his new sister. Again we enter pure timelessness. Our family and invited guests totally enthralled by the experience of the birth, meeting this new pure and natural celebration of life manifested in a newly born baby.

This birth reminded me of how we should more often try to live our lives. Without so many measurements and expectations. To allow things to be self-willed and not overly controlled. To embrace the natural and wild aspects of our humanity. Letting time take care of itself. Rivis birth was a revelation and experience I hope more people can enjoy and value.


Alicia runs the nurtured bebe and does placenta encapsulation and baby massage: 
You can find her here:  http://www.thenurturedbebe.com.au 

Tor’s birth (and Inside Baby) story


My son’s birth was so simple.

He was conceived in late summer, some months after another little soul decided not to
stay, six weeks into its pregnancy.

This loss, of a pregnancy that felt tentative and out of time from the beginning,
nevertheless floored me, mired me in unexpectedly powerful grief, left me wading
through thick purple sadness. I fumed at the four decades old body that had, in fairness
produced and nurtured my perfect little daughter (one out of two ain’t bad, surely).
Several months dragged on while my poor old body healed and re-calibrated itself, and I
became dark with the hopeless tangled certainty that it wouldn’t give me another baby.

Then came January. Midsummer month, bright and yellow, and I just opened clenched
hands and let it all go.
I enjoyed January.

Early February, hothot time. Sandcastle season.

A day spent digging in the warmwet sand with Finna. Her little paws piled the stuff high
as rhythmical water licked at it, building lumpy sodden sandcastles that the ceaselessly
hungry tide ate. And I knew. There was another there with us, watching us build, feeling
that tide, those slipping waves that ate sand. That other made me nauseated, turned
the usually enticing odour of an Indian restaurant into a repellent fume, and flipped
breastfeeding my girl into a strangely prickly thing.

I knew he was there. Just not that he was he (although a dear friend, nearest I have to
family, somehow knew this all along).

Two thick lines.

The next few months were hard going and beautiful, miraculous, jubilant, scary
exhausting and hopeful. By gods I was sick. We moved to a house on a remote 400 acre
farm, a move that was belly scrapingly slow, and my daughter and I ate tree apples, most
of which I threw up again. My partner did the hard yakka of moving mostly on his own
because I couldn’t stand the feel of anything and those long car journeys might as well
have been on heaving oceans. Recently my daughter watched a video about a fluffy
golden retriever puppy, one I used to keep her happy on those awful moving trips, and the
sound of the title music knocked a wave of powerful nauseous revulsion though me, even
now, so many months after my son’s birth.

My belly grew, (and grew and GREW like something out of a children’s story book, the
kind that has the child wondering how big this can get and what could possibly be in

there!) and the nausea slowly receded to a tolerable background nag at about 19 weeks. It
never left completely. I lived again.

I slept with my Finna in a corner bedroom of our new house, all yellowlight in summer
and dankly cold in winter, and listened to my inside baby. He was envisioning coming
into the world under a tree in the yard, apparently. Some work to do, then, on making that
happen!
I dreamed of a big strong baby boy, spread out asleep in the bed with his sister and I.

I’d had no medical anythings this time. After what happened to my first birth it seemed
fairer to this baby. I didn’t want Inside baby hearing the scream of ultrasound, or being
kicked out of me by Syntocinon, pulled at the last from my utterly empty unfueled, cut
pulled and tethered self by a doctor who Meant Well.

My partner and I drove by the local hospital. ”Oh you can’t have it there.” Excellent, my
thoughts exactly. No independent birth centres in our entire state either.

I was 22 weeks pregnant when we met the woman who would support me to have a
powerful, simple, life changing birth. At home. We chatted on the wide long slatted porch
of our home, with its tangled vast garden and cows in the background pacing and eating
and birthing their own children. When she left my partner and I agreed. She was perfect.
We just trusted her, and Finna, all two and a half years of her, thought she was the bees
darn knees, although the blood pressure cuff sent my sensitive child running to daddy in
fear of what was being done to me.

Our lovely midwife confirmed it. ‘Yep, there’s a baby in there!. Good, the other option
was really large tapeworm. Not as nice.

Weeks wore on, I ground them slowly out, walking and stretching until stabbing pelvic
pain and swollen legs, the skin stretched and creased with pressure, stopped me well into
my eighth month. I looked forward to birth, feared it, worried about how my sensitive
and very connected little daughter would cope with seeing her mum in pain, hear
her ‘vocalising’ (which in my first birth translated to keening high screams, something I
felt might disturb her!).

So we prepared.

We watched videos of gentle water births, and Finna said. ‘Want to watch babies –come-
out!”
We talked about the baby in mum’s tummy, and she watched the little limb bits wave
across my belly more than anyone else.
She made friends with our midwife Mary but never could stand that blood pressure cuff
or the belly checking. ‘Baby’s fine…’ a tiny worried voice.
We found, at 36 weeks, a perfect doula, the wonderful Kate who came armed with paints
and bubbles and a willingness to look for frogs and pick green plums. Our dear friend and
her daughters were on standby too. Finna’s Distraction Team.

We did turns of the sodden warming garden with me on hands and knees, swiggling my
pelvis for Inside Baby’s benefit, although the little guy’s head had been firmly engaged
since 33 weeks, making elephant noises for Fin as she rode around in childjoy on my
swaying back.

And at 38 weeks we had a blessingway, a warm beautiful thing that painted my belly
with stunning swirls of inspiration and love, and my soul with hope and joy and
footprints beside mine. I read Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth, the most stunningly positive
and sensible thing I could possibly have imbibed at the time.

The birth pool arrived, its room, the yellow corner one, draped with Blessingway candles
and beads and wordflags.

A darknight peaceful birth filled the eye in my mind.

We waited. And I got on with things, so the waiting wouldn’t swallow me whole.

At 40 weeks Finna mouse nibbled a mushroom from the garden, then threw up fiercely in
the kitchen, a torrent of reddish lumpen stuff that left her cowering and sobbing. Terror
for my girl jolted at me, and Inside Baby jumped up to lie under my ribs. The illness
passed and finally Finna slept beside me, cleaned and tired. Inside Baby descended again
the next day, head jammed firmly back in place, his sister safe, and this time the pressing
feet scrimbled my right side rather than the traditionally favoured left.

At 41 weeks I took my Finna to a playgroup, batting off the ‘Oh, you’re overdue’s (with
much dramatic widening of eyes) and the ‘you poor thing’s and the ‘where are you
having it’s and the ‘do you know what you’re having’s.
Why offer sympathy? Bizarre, I felt, in my waiting space.

The fears that dogged me were these; that I would not be able to go into labour myself,
that my body would fail me and I would feel the strangeness of another blankly painful
birth that belonged to others, that somewhere in all this I might lose my precious baby.

So I read Ina May again, walked some more in that tangly sunny stormy green past our
back door, held the blessingway beads, heavy with love and the colours of birth.

The next day, the day before the third anniversary of Finna’s birth, my partner went off
on a trip to a town several hours drive away. The day was warm, and a young local girl
came to babysit in our home for a few hours. Finna played, showed her trees and seeds
and things, and I found a red flag of impending birth on one of my frequent toilet visits.

A text to midwife, a text to doula; it could still be days or weeks. I got on with my quiet
lumbering day, feeling regular tummy grumblings of anxiety, or excitement. Baz called,
we chatted, I suggested perhaps labour might be not far off but also perhaps not for
weeks yet.

We smiled, Finna and I, we played, we went out to that long porch and she sifted
horsefood and the anxious digestive pangs continued and it stormed, mightily. Long
rolling strokes of grey thunder drove us inside, squealing. We hid together in the corner
under the window.

I was overcome with hunger, ate, packed in food, a huge grainy sandwich, fruit, honey.
I was starting to have my suspicions about these tummy grumblings, timed them. Every
two or three minutes. Couldn’t be labour. Too mild, too kind with only minutes between
them.
Gentle whisperings.

We were weary, my girl and I, so we lay down for a rest. She had some boobs, and the
pains changed; grew, took on more of the tugging quality of a period. I got up, we got up,
Finna played, a growing need for movement pushed at me.
I paced.

These tugs at my belly were about a minute apart.

A text to Kate, wondering if she might pop by as she lived locally, and just ‘tell me what
she thought’. A limp feeling of not wanting to be alone crept in, I followed Finna to the
porch, the waves of pulling grew and I walked through them.
Phone, Kate. Please come, thanks, ten minutes, have you called Mary?
Mary, sorry to bother you, probably a false alarm, pacing the long green feathered porch,
do you think it’s a false alarm?
NO.

Pacing. Driven, pushed, up and down, there and back, tromping the porch. Waves now of
tightening, pain, pulling.

Kate arrives just as I can no longer focus on taking care of my tomorrowthree birthday
girl. She shows Kate the horse food, she’s safe, I pace, I breathe. I’m swimming now,
floating smiling in the clear water between the tugs, swaying and humming across the
tops of the increasingly powerful waves.
Mary is here, smiling strong gentle. I’ll talk to you once that one’s past. Oh, is that
another one already? They’re pretty close together aren’t they?

Smile, ride another one, humming hip circling now, I have a favourite place on this
porch, a safe corner of doorframe that hangs me from it by my strong hands, feels the
centre of me as these waves crash in growing and heaving.
Now all of me must be there to ride each one.
So they don’t swamp me.
I am singing, hhooooaaahhhhhe-e-e-eyyyy…… and the breath keeps me surfing, not
drowning.

This bub might be born on Finna’s birthday! Oh, Idon’t think she’s going to make it to
midnight.

A fistclench of excitement. This is happening?

More waves, another and another, more and more powerful, but each one is only one.
Each one I can do.

Then the timbre changes. There are still those crashing tightening pains, but I’m
transported. Smiling, lolling, shaking. I’m in a loose place, a steaming jubilant ecstatic
place. Are you ok? Oh yes. Where do you think you’re at? Oh, I’m in transition, but not
that hellish burn of terror and agony of last time. This is intense, it holds me tight, but it’s
blissful too, a rush of soft bliss, and I’m somewhere else.

I cruise there for a while, then the thing I’m riding changes again, hot drawing up pain.
It’s a pain I don’t like now, it’s not so friendly now I’m feeling it now it’s here.
I want the pool now, cool wet holding. Too late.
Huffing grunting pushpain and a swollen gush of lifeliquid, the sea my baby has grown
in, leaves me in a shocking tidal wave.
NOW I know what the urge to push, so empty and absent from my first birth, feels like!

I’m down, a huffing dog still in my friendly doorpost corner.

Stretching burning pains, reaching down the insides of my legs, red hard pain. B comes
home, somewhere behind me.
His face, felt, you’re doing so well, hun!
Mary spreads towels under me, do you want to go inside?
Go?
Inside?
Foolish talk!

The unkind pains shear me, push me apart, splay me, and as each crescendos (slow it
down a bit Tine) there are harsher sounds pulled from me, fearful sweeps. Mary checks
that strong pulsing heartbeat again, and it’s all I can do to let her.

Kind hand on my back, relax your bottom. I do.

Hot! Towels! My. Back!

Mary brings them, they are joy on me, and Finna, my littlebig nearlythree girl, finds a
little facewasher and places it gently over my back too.
I am swamped with love, nuzzle her, lean my head on her little body for a few suspended
warm moments.

The lulls in between the pains, those shrieks as the solid head pushes its way down me,
are even now calm, painless.

The peaks push me to the very very top, the lowest highest furthest bits of me, stretch
every part of my being, pull sounds from me; shitfuckshitfuck!! Those are good shit

fucks! Laughter brings me back in, gratitude for this warm sensible woman just letting
me be what I am, do what I can do.
That head is shoving at me, pushing my body apart, coyly advancing, slidingback.

Only a few more pushes now.
It’s a little blondie!

A few more? Of those?!

I’m on knees, body snaked up along that doorframe, my stronghands holding it holding
me.
Another tidal wave and I grab that pain, push that head, hold it and gruntshove again
HUNH! I hold the painforce, use it’s ripping power, push and it slips from me, the whole
long body warmfalls from me and Mary catches my child lays him on the towels and I
laughcry out in a surge of the hugest mountain of triumph and relief.

‘I’ve had a baby!!’ I’ve had it!
Me. It’s done and I did it!
Stunned for a suspended moment.

Pick up your baby Tine, we need to go inside it’s getting cold out here, and my hands are
on the warm slippery body, the little thing held firmly to me, towels wrapping us, I’m
shaking and high and in love already and I hold the person to my chest, the tiny wetwhite
new person, mewing quietly, bluish under the white, and sitdown on something, a chair
that someone puts under me, and Mary passes me some oxygen to wave in the tiny face.

I love you, we all love you and want you here with us SO much.
My first words to him.

And the life comes in, the limbs move firmly, definitely, he has made his decision to stay.
He breathes, and Mary says ‘him’ and I look.
And Baz and I, Finna beside him, look.

We have a son.

The rest is all warm and jumbly, and really there is no ‘the rest’ because birth is not the
beginning or end of a living person’s story, it’s a profound transition. He lived before
that, inside me and right now he snuggles warm on my lap, breathing in sleep and
warming my breast with his strong joyful little warmhands.
Even deep in sleep he’s always checking that I’m there.

My dear friend and her three precious daughters arrived as we sat in that chair, just inside
the door where our son was born. I shakystood to birth a huge placenta with the longest
cord that Mary had ever seen (the cord that was wrapped several times around his neck
when he slid out of me), and our son’s father cut the strong rubbery lifeline a while after
that. We made our way, my son and I supported on each side by one dad arm and one

Mary arm into the living room where I sank onto the couch to smile and smile, warm in
the support of Baz and a curious Finna, our friends and Mary and Kate, and where our
newborn son found that source of safety and warmth and nutrition that newborns are so
completely primed to find. Breasts that filled with milk the second day after his birth, and
fed him so well that he gained half a kilo in his first ten days.

He was born at 7.05pm (24 hours almost to the minute before his sister’s third birthday),
and that first red flag show had happened at 10.30 am, with real labour that I could
recognize as such from about 3 – 4 pm.

He was born amid rolling latespring thunderstorms, on the porch of our home, and Baz,
newly the father of a son as well as of our perfect daughter, described the scene he came
home to, with me in the 20 minute or so long second stage, as ‘Wagnerian’. Our son is
named for the Norse god of thunder, and that was to be his name if he was a boy, from
before he was conceived.

The photos from that night show tumbles of people on the couch; me and our son at the
centre with Baz and Finna, our amazing doula Kate and fabulous midwife Mary, and our
dear friends, who had driven three hours to arrive to see our son for the first time, ten
minutes old.

The team, and our ordinary miracle.

Baz describes our little boy as ‘a joyful presence’, and so he is.

The next day we all celebrated Finna’s third birthday with messy chocolate cake, little
presents and the presence of my brilliant friend and her family, the first people to see my
boy after his magnificent birth.

Tor’s birth was simple, inexorable, awe inspiring, and left me stronger, bigger, more. It
gave me back some of what that stolen first hospital birth drained away. I can’t begin to
express my gratitude to the fabulous warm people who made it possible for me to do it, to
be and do what my body, and nature, always knew I could do.

That four decades old body did, does, pretty well after all.

Keira's Birth

" After suffering from PTSD following completely unnecessary interventions of my first labour which ended in a traumatic forceps delivery of my eldest daughter by a private OB I gave birth at home in water 14 months later with the support of two gorgeous independent midwives to our second baby girl. It was the most amazing and beautiful experience and we will cherish the memory of those precious moments of Keira's peaceful and calm birth forever in our family."


Tanja xx










"There is power that comes to women when they give birth. They don't ask for it, it simply invades them. Accumulates like clouds on the horizon and passes through, carrying the child with it." Sheryl Feldman
Welcome Earthside
 Keira!

The birth of Holly





On Thursday the 9th of Feb 2012 at 1am I started to feel what I believed were mild contractions.

By 4am they were slowly getting more intense but I managed to fall asleep. I woke at 8:30 am and they had gone! Come 11ish am they were back!! Yay! We had an appointment at the birthing centre with my midwife and also a scan booked in as I was 5 days overdue and our midwife wanted to check all was well in utero. Which it was. I then went on the ctg and I was in the early stages of labour, contractions were every 5-8 minutes lasting about 40 seconds. The pain was mostly in my back.

After our appointment we decided to go and stock up the house with food so we wouldn't need to go shopping for a while. Not long after we got home at 3:30 pm my waters broke, they were murky green, at first I didnt think anything of it but then I remembered watching an episode of 16 and Pregnant where one of the babys had poo'd and got meconium aspiration so I called our midwife and she came to our house to check bubs heart beat. We were given the option to birth at the main hospital rather than the birthing centre due to possible complications if bub had swallowed meconium. Seeing as the scan was fine and the heartbeat was good we decided to continue our plan to birth at the birthing centre and our midwife was happy and confident that this was safe to do. We made plans to meet at the birthing suite at 8pm for ctg monitoring to check and to work out if I would still be able to deliver at the birthing suite or if I would need to go to the main hospital.

By 6:30 pm my contractions were getting very uncomfortable and I had run out of hot water by having hot showers (which worked really well for pain relief) so Michael called our midwife and told her I needed to come in earlier.

We arrived at the birthing suite at 7:20 pm and had an internal and I was 5cm's dilated and our midwife pushed me to 6cm. I then had 2 sterile water injections in my back and jumped in the bath. The hot water was amazing but it wasn't long and I wanted something else for pain so got the gas and air. For an hour or so I was apparently 'as high as a kite' but it didn't last long and I started begging for an epidural, of course I couldn't have one as I was at a birthing suite so our midwife told me to get out of the bath and she would take me to the hospital knowing I wouldn't be bothered to get out of the bath! So after a few hours of screaming, swearing, kicking, thrashing around, begging for an epidural and throwing the wet washers Michael kept putting on my forehead our midwife suggested I get out of the bath and sit on the toilet to help me push. I wasn't on the toilet long when our midwife said I needed to either get back in the bath or go on the birthing stool as my baby was on her way! I got on the stool (it was closer!) with Michael supporting my back and 15 minutes later and 2 pushes my beautiful daughter Holly was in my arms. Michael was crying, I was just in shock and loosing a fair bit of blood so I got an oxytocin injection to get the placenta out of me and then Holly and I jumped into bed for cuddles and a feed. I was feeling really weak and cold but the feeling soon passed and Holly started to breastfeed.

Holly Grace was born at 11:06 pm after 12 hours of labour. She was 3.1kg, 33.5 cm HC and 49cm long and absolutely beautiful. 1st degree tear and a graze that didn't require sutures. Pain relief was sterile water injections (9 in total) and gas.

"Looking back I am really happy with how Holly's birth went. I was able to do it in the birthing centre without an epidural which was something I was really hoping to avoid. I do have a few things I want to change for number two and that is how agitated I got. I remember feeling really scared and alone despite having wonderful support. I didn't trust my body and desperately wanted an epidural. I know that if I had decided to go to the main hospital I would have definitely had one! I plan to read up on calm birthing and hypnobirthing techniques for next time. I have also decided that I would love a home water birth. I want to be surrounded by candles, my belongings,peaceful music and my amazing husband. I also want a lot of photos of the labour and birth as I have absolutely none of Holly's until we got into bed together. Next time I will hopefully have faith in my body's ability to naturally birth seeing as I have now experienced it". 

Beautiful new bubba holding mum's hand - mum is blissed out! 

First beautiful breastfeed

"I did it!" 

The birth pool

The bathroom



Welcome to the world little Holly!! 


The birth of Jethro Micah




Born February 18, 2011, 1:50am. 8" 3 oz

Sat night - February 12, 2011.

Mum, Mitch & I talked about how I might have the baby the next day. My parents hoped that maybe I’d have the baby on the 13th as that is my brother’s birthday. There was no pressure though. I felt extremely nervous about going into labour that night. I realised I wasn’t ready. That night I barely slept at all, I was so worked up about possibly going into labour and not being ready. The fact that I’d barely slept upset me as I didn’t want to be tired before I went into labour. I wanted to be well rested and ready. That first night of barely any sleep was a real challenge for me. I got up the next day feeling very tense and stressed. During the night I had worried about going into labour and all these things had come up. I realised I wasn’t ready. The fact that I’d had trouble sleeping and managing the pain of labour worried me. I did not want to be tired before labour. I had this idea in my head that I needed to be well rested. I had to let this go and face whatever happened.

For the next four nights from Saturday night till Tuesday night I felt I barely slept at all. I’d go to bed relaxed having had an epsom salts bath, done relaxation exercises to help me sleep and then the tension, worry and anxiety would come. My mind would become overactive and I couldn't stop thinking. I think I read a couple of books during those nights I couldn’t sleep.

It was a time of surrender. Each morning I’d talk to Mum about what was going on for me and my fears. Mum’s a counselor majoring in narrative therapy. Talking about my fears with Mum really helped me to process them. By Tuesday morning I had completely surrendered to the fact that I had not been able to sleep and that I would probably go into labour tired. This was mainly due to the fact that I was so tired that I was forced to accept whatever happened.
I’d also surrendered to the fact that I had no control over what happened in my labour.
I did a lot of mental preparation in this time. It was very challenging for me. 
I had mentioned to Mum a few times over those few days if all my worries were holding my labour back.
 Sure enough Tuesday afternoon (after my moment of total surrender), I started getting some mild contractions. I kept this to myself. I started timing the contractions about 4pm and they were 10 min apart. They were only mildly painful, like period pain, but short-lived. Mum and I went for a walk that afternoon which I’m sure helped. 
I went to bed that night with my secret, only me, my baby & God knew.
By this time Mitch was sleeping in the spare room because I was having such sleepless   nights. He needed his sleep for whatever lay ahead. Throughout the night I kept noticing the contractions. They started getting a little more intense as the night wore on. Nothing I couldn't handle though. I didn’t sleep very well once again that night but had accepted that this was my journey.
I tried practicing directed breathing during the contractions and imagined my cervix opening just a little more.
I got up the next morning and told Mitch and Mum that I’d been having somewhat regular mild contractions throughout the night. We were all excited but not too excited as it was still early labour. I didn’t want to wear myself out just yet.
The contractions were still manageable, not too intense. Mum and I got on with the day. Mitch went to work as normal. I think we made patties and did some shopping. I can’t really remember.
The contractions started getting more intense as the day wore on, but not hard to manage. I took my doula friend Julie’s advice, to ignore labour as long as possible. I found out about Julie through Mitch’s work friends who’d used her as a doula and I’d also seen her flyer around town before I was pregnant.
We tried to watch a movie that night but didn’t get very far as I was getting tired. We went to bed around 11pm, I knew I wouldn’t sleep anyway. I just lay down and rested as much as I could.
The contractions were getting more intense and demanding more of my attention. I lay down for about an hour and tried to rest. The contractions were just getting to intense and I realised I had to use circular hip movements leaning over the bean bag to get through them. I also attempted to do directed breathing to help my uterus and cervix relax so they could do the work they needed to. I felt I failed miserably at this, particularly later on when my labour got more intense, I struggled to relax and direct my breath. Everyone else had gone to bed by this time.
I decided to get up and tell Mum that the contractions were getting more intense and that I wasn’t able to sleep at all. I was now having to move and breathe through contractions. It was very hard to lie down, only to have to get up again 5 minutes or so later. I could not be still during contractions at all. Being still made the pain worse and more difficult cope with. I started walking up and down the stairs to manage the contractions and vocalising. This really helped. It got more intense and I felt a tiny urge to push (in hindsight, I have no idea why I would have felt this as I was still in pre-labour, who knows). My contractions were 3-5 minutes apart, sometimes 2 mins. Throughout my entire labour my contractions were never regular. Sometimes they would be 5 minutes apart for four contractions and then a shorter break or a longer break.


Mitch had been sleeping up till this point. Mum and I decided to wake him. I laboured with Mitch and Mum for awhile. Then when I felt this unusual urge very slight urge to push. I decided to call Gaye and Anna. They arrived an hour or so later. My contractions then quieted down a bit, they went all shy on me. I was obviously not in full labour yet, it was still pre-labour. I got shy too, I had been quite vocal before my midwife Gaye and student midwife Anna arrived. Once they arrived I found it hard to vocalise without feeling self-conscious. They told me I was probably in pre-labour and for everyone else to go to sleep. They too went to sleep for the rest of the night.

I found it impossible to sleep and lie down by this point. Contractions demanded my attention too much. I did lie down between contractions and rest as much as possible.

I rocked and rotated my hips on the gym ball to get through each contraction. This really helped me to work through contractions. I continued to do this throughout the night till morning while everyone slept. I felt a bit silly for calling Gaye and Anna way too early. (This would have been when I would have likely gone to hospital if I was having a hospital birth, how different my story would have been, they would have likely sent me home as I’m guessing I was only 2-4cm dilated).
When morning came Gaye and Anna told me I was in pre-labour, which I knew already. They said that my contractions would either die down during the day or increase in intensity. They left soon after, saying to keep in touch if anything changed or if I needed them to come again.

I asked Mitch to stay home that day as I needed him with me to get through the contractions. They were now demanding my attention to get through them. I had to focus on my body and moving, breathing through them. They were roughly 5-10 minutes apart and varying in length. Mitch and I timed them on and off throughout the day. Throughout the day Mitch and I focused on getting through the contractions together, we were a team. I was practically on my gym ball all day, getting through one contraction at a time.I did this by rocking and rotating my hips. That was all I lived for at that time, one contraction to the next. It was a very intense day. I was very needy of Mitch, and wanted him there for every contraction. He wasn’t allowed to leave for long and if he did I got Mum to take over while he had a break. At some point we attempted to watch a movie (I can’t remember what movie) but we had to pause for every single contraction so we soon gave up watching it.
The rest of the day is really a blur to me. I just remember being on the gym ball for most of the day.

Towards the end of the day my contractions started to intensify and I felt I needed a change of scenery. I asked Mum if she could run me a bath which she did. I got into the bath but didn’t stay there long as I felt too restricted in the bath. It was extremely uncomfortable lying down and contractions were way more painful in such a restricted space. I ended up in the shower for a bit and found this really helpful and relaxing. I could stand, sway my hips and vocalise through contractions quite comfortably. I braced myself against the shower wall through each contraction. This worked for me for awhile but then I got edgy and wanted something else. I quickly got out, dried and dressed between contractions, I didn’t want to have a contraction while I wasn’t on my ball. I asked Mum and Mitch to put the TENS machine on my back. I sat on the ball, rotated my hips, used the boost on the TENS machine, had a wheat pack on my lower abdomen and vocalised. It was getting very difficult not to scream through contractions, they were that intense. Mum and Mitch constantly reminded me to keep the sounds low in my chest, rather than high pitched. I found it really difficult to relax my body and do directed breathing. The contractions were really starting to demand all my strength. I did this for awhile, maybe 30 minutes or so. Then I said to Mum I needed a change. I wanted to hop in the birth pool and I wanted Gaye my midwife here.

We had to ask my neighbour/doula friend Julie to come and help fill the pool as Mum had no idea how to do it and there was no way I was letting Mitch go do it. I needed him there to get through contractions.

The pool seemed to take forever to fill and I was desperate to get in it. I was struggling to get through contractions on the ball with the TENS machine. Finally it was filled and I could hop in. It was soooooo relaxing and really helped with the pain. My contractions did slow down though, to about 10 minutes or more apart. Mitch and I relaxed in the pool together and I worked through contractions. Gaye arrived about an hour or so later after I’d been in the pool. She saw that I was doing fine and just sat on the lounge and observed me labouring.

Mitch and Mum helped me get through contractions as I vocalised and rocked my hips in the pool. I did this for what seemed like a couple of hours, by this time I’d lost all sense of time, I was so in my body. Then I needed to pee, so I hopped out of the pool. Gaye and Mum helped me out of the pool, gave me a towel and helped me dry off. I hurried to the toilet, scared I would have a contraction on the way, peed and I had a bloody show. I hopped back into the pool and kept doing what I’d been doing previously. Mitch was amazing! He kept whispering wonderful words of encouragement in my ear. It was so lovely to hear and I felt so supported.

After maybe half an hour or so I wanted a change, so I hopped out of the pool, got dried and dressed into a nightie that said “I did it my way” - quite appropriate really. I also had to pee again and had a bit more of a bloody show. I felt hot and so I went outside for a bit in the cool night air. I didn’t stay long outside as I was scared of having a contraction outside. I went inside and that’s when the contractions really hit. These were the hardest and most intense contractions I’d ever experienced thus far. They were so long, intense and so close together. It took all of my strength to get through them. It was hard not to scream. Sometimes I did scream, when I did Mitch and Mum reminded to keep my vocalising low in my body. I had to lean forward over a chair to get through contractions, rock my hips, vocalise and squeeze Mitch’s hands. At some point I changed positions to fully lean over Mitch to work through contractions. They were so intense and demanding. I had a few where there were no breaks, with three in a row. I started saying things like “When will this stop? I just want to sleep. I’m tired. How much longer?” No one said anything but I’m sure they exchanged knowing looks. This was obviously transition.

I think I went through transition for about 40 minutes, who knows, no one was watching the clock. Apparently between contractions I was laughing and joking with everyone. I have no memory of this. After seeing the videos of me in labour I was laughing between contractions. I think I said just before another contraction after having just been laughing about something “Ok, here goes, I’m ready for the next one”. Another thing I recall saying a number of times during my labour was “I have no idea how women in hospital do this. I can’t imagine going anywhere in a car at this point. That’s the last thing I want to do.”
At some point the contractions stopped and I really wanted to pee, so I went to the toilet. I sat on the toilet for ages and couldn’t pee. There was so much pressure. Eventually I peed, much to my relief.
As soon as I finished peeing I felt like I needed to do a poo. I announced to everyone, “I feel like I need to do a poo.” I started to get excited as I knew what this meant. Someone, I think it was Anna, “Why don’t you check yourself and see if you can feel your baby’s head?” I checked myself and could feel a bag of bulging waters and a baby’s hard head. I got a huge smile on my face and said “Now I get to push!”

I walked back to the pool and hopped in with Mitch and had my first pushing contraction. They were so much easier to manage than the opening contractions. I was leaning over the edge of the pool and squeezing my Mum’s hands. After that contraction I did my own vaginal exam to see if my baby had moved down. He had moved a bit. I was so excited! My pushing contractions were quite spaced apart, about 5-7 minutes apart, no one was timing, I’m just guessing the time. This gave me time to relax between each contraction. After each contraction my baby would slip back to where he’d been.

I pushed in the leaning forward position for quite awhile. After each contraction I would do my own V.Es to check my baby’s position and how far he had moved down. It was so empowering! After awhile I felt the leaning forward position wasn’t working for me. I felt my baby wasn’t moving fast enough. So I moved to a half kneeling crouching position and knelt between Mitch’s legs. He sat behind me against the pool wall. I had some more contractions in this position and I did V.Es each time. My baby was moving closer and faster in this position. It was getting exciting. I kept asking “How much longer?” No one answered, just encouraged me to keep going. 

I remember this music (it was the same CD repeating) being really annoying at some point while I was pushing and no one else noticing until I asked them to change it. I felt this interrupted the birthing zone I was in.

Also while I was pushing someone was asking how to use one of the cameras. I found this really distracting from the zone I was in too. However I soon got back into my zone again and I was able to continue birthing my son.

Sometimes while I was in the pushing stage my second midwife Karen arrived and sat quietly with the rest of the birth team as I worked towards birthing my son.

Soon I felt my baby’s head close to the entrance of my vagina. Not quite crowning but close. I knew there wasn’t long to go. It was amazing being able to feel his head. It was around this time that I felt a pop and my waters broke. I waited for the next contraction, this next one took quite awhile. Then suddenly the next contraction was upon me and I was pushing, pushing, pushing. The urge to push was so incredibly powerful. While I was pushing I could feel a burning sensation as his head started crowning. It was incredibly intense and painful. When the pushing contraction stopped I had to wait in intense agony with his head crowning and there was nothing I could do but wait. I breathed through it, but almost hyperventilated I was breathing so fast. Gaye reminded me to breathe deeply. It was a challenge to do this because all I wanted to do was make the burning stop. In the next couple of contractions his head moved back and forth slowly stretching my vagina. It was intense and it took a lot of strength to focus on breathing and not panic.

When the next contraction came I pushed and felt his head pop out towards the end of the contraction. Then I settled back to wait for the next one to push his body out.

Then I hear Gaye say, “Aren’t you going to pick up your baby?”
“What!? He’s here?” I say surprised.

I reach down and pick up a tiny floppy body and placed him on my chest. Suddenly I am overwhelmed with emotions. I am crying and saying “my baby’s here, I can’t believe it. Mum, he’s here!” I couldn’t stop crying and saying this kind of thing over and over. I hold him close and look at him. He is beautiful. I say “oh better check he’s a boy” so I lift him up and look between his legs, sure enough, he’s definitely a boy. I don’t remember much else after the birth, it’s all a bit of a blur. I remember him starting to cry, I got a bit worried and said something about it. Gaye just said to me, “He’s telling his birth story, let him cry.” I relaxed a bit after that. My baby was safe, I was safe. We’d done it together!


Then I started stressing about getting him to breastfeed. I offered him the breast a couple of times and he wasn’t interested yet, so I just waited. I think maybe half an hour or so after birth he started sucking. He sucked for ages and I just held him close, in awe at my beautiful baby and what I’d just accomplished. While he was feeding, I started experiencing some mildly painful after contractions, but no placenta yet.

No one but my husband and I held our son till the next day. My Mum read some Bible verses aloud that we had specifically chosen to read after the birth of our son.

Our new little family stayed in the birth pool for awhile and then we got out. I tried to birth the placenta but got a bit panicked and annoyed by it. I just wanted to get to know my baby. Gaye gave me some rescue remedy to take to help me calm down. So we all lay down together on this nest of blankets, a bean bag and mattress that the midwives had set up for us. I fed my son on the other breast. I had a little blister on the first side I’d fed him off from having him in-correctly latched. We had no problems after that though. I continued experiencing mild contractions. (The blister was incredibly painful for feeding in the following days though. I used lanacare wool breast pads and lansinoh and it healed up within a day).

I was so hungry after all that hard work of labour and birth. My lovely midwives made us some yummy toasted sandwiches to eat which I devoured.



After feeding my son and cleaning us up. He’d done his first poo all over me and himself. It was time to cut the cord. The cord was white as there was no blood left in it. I think it might have been 2 hours after birth when we finally cut it. Mitch did the honours. We tied my son’s cord with some lovely ties that I had made myself.

Then it was time to birth the placenta. I’d been drinking ‘After birth bliss tea’ by Blissful herbs so hoped the herbs had kicked in by now.

Mitch took our son and held him close while I concentrated on birthing the placenta. I could feel it was close but not out yet. I stood up and tried to push and nothing happened. I started panicking a bit and someone gave me some more rescue remedy to help me calm down. I tried again and got scared of the pain. (This after birthing a baby!?) Then Karen suggested blowing into a bottle with my mouth over the whole opening to help me push it out. I did this a few times and after a couple of attempts the placenta finally plopped out. Relief! 

After this Gaye checked my vagina for any tears or grazes, while Karen and Anna watched. Gaye told me I had a graze and one small tag tear which would heal naturally if I rested and kept my legs closed. Gaye also showed me what my vagina looked like in the mirror, I remember it looked so weird, stretched and bruised. 

The midwives started cleaning up a bit. Karen asked me what to do with the placenta. I said I’d like Gaye to make placenta prints (I’d talked to her about this previously). So Gaye and Anna set about doing the placenta prints on a few pieces of paper. I have them somewhere (still packed up after our move)  and it’s beautiful, it looks like a tree - the tree of life.





Then our little family went into the bedroom. Gaye helped us put a nappy on our new son. Then we all lay down together to have some much needed sleep. The midwives left and we finally slept.