my birth story...

For the last few weeks of my pregnancy I was convinced that my labour would start at 3am. On September 10th, and 3am I woke with surges. I tried to sleep through them but they soon where coming along strong enough that I needed to get up. About 4am I woke David and we paced and discussed whether to call people or not. About 5am we decided it was time to make some calls. One of these was to Belle, our photographer. She had just been called by another mama in labour! The back up photographer was put on standby, my doula Aurelia came and my dear friend and ex-midwife Laura came, as I was wanting to walk but was worried about eliza who was still sleeping. My mama tribe was notified and were lighting their candles as they woke to the news that my baby was coming.

As the sun rose about 5:30, the air was warm and inviting, there was a breeze and a storm brewing. Little droplets kissed my skin as I walked up and down my street, and as my surges started calming. I was devastated and frustrated. I had had weeks of pre labour every evening. I wanted to meet my baby! Eliza woke to the excitement of visitors and that was the end of my surges. The atmosphere was lost for me. My baby was staying put for now. Even though I know all too well that it is the nature of birth, I felt embarrassed and sad to again have my mama tribe contacted, this time to tell them to blow out their candles.
As the day progressed the stormy weather came and went. With every surge of wild wind, my womb responded with waves of intense surges too – strong but not regular. The sun would come out and my womb would calm. I tried to rest however my body made it too difficult to sleep. My midwife visited to check me out. Despite my best efforts, my baby was laying posterior. I had now accepted that I would be again experiencing back labour. This was my journey. I watched some daytime tv (my guilty pleasure), I tidied up and put the last preparations to my birth space. As I felt deeply into my body, I knew that it was opening and ‘real’ labour wasn’t too far away. I happily assumed that when my daughter went to bed at 7pm, it would all kick off strongly. Again I was hopeful, knowing my baby wasn’t too far away.

At precisely 5pm, I quietly noticed my body beginning to get some gentle but regular sensations. Much like my daily prelabour ritual it happened exactly during dinner-prep time and dinner. I ate my dinner while rocking gently, something that had become somewhat normal. I insisted on seconds – a mistake I would later regret! By the time Eliza was being put to bed at 7pm, I was on all fours under the warm shower moaning, my surges strong and regular, under 5 minutes apart. David made the decision to call Aurelia and Belle, who had left the previous birth only a few hours before. Aurelia arrived to me rocking and moaning very loudly in the shower still. It was happening. She greeted me with such love and calm happiness, I felt engulfed and safe. I was on the brink of letting go to my conscious mind and entering the zone, and with her by my side I did. The *me* of everyday life was now gone. I was now the embodiment of the primal birthing woman.

As I laboured the rest of my team arrived one by one, not that I was overtly conscious of their arrivals, I just felt their presence. My husband David, my son Josh, my sons girlfriend Katie, my doula and soul-sister Aurelia, my midwife Norafiah, my dear friend (who is also a midwife) Laura, my photographer Belle and the back-up midwife Linda. I had a large team. This was by design, not coincidence. Every person invited had a role and had an energetic quality that I knew I would need.

My surges were intense but manageable, until they weren’t. Over a period of hours the intensity increased and increased. I found myself having some interesting thoughts and saying some interesting things. At one point I called out “I’m too old for this shit!” In reference to a friend who had birthed her baby unassisted in the shower earlier in the year I yelled “how the fuck do women do this accidentally in the shower?” I was less than impressed when the room responded with laughter! I was pretty angry at the time. As I reached a point where I felt like I couldn’t cope anymore my mind created a diversion for me, I decided I needed to go to hospital but given the amazing and supportive team I had I knew I had to have a complete plan to present to them or they just wouldn’t buy it. During surges I was vocalising loudly and crying out “no more, I can’t do it” and as a surge eased I would go back to formulating my plan of escape to hospital. Fortunately I couldn’t even figure out how to get to the car as it would involve getting out of the pool so on I went with my labour. I also had thoughts of self-judgement “none of my clients have ever behaved this badly in labour” as I was in disbelief that it could be *this* hard. I had not anticipated this level of challenge. It felt like the place I was in was endless and unchanging for the longest time, and then suddenly when I had almost lost the notion of birthing, something changed – “I need to poo!” Being a doula, I knew this was an exciting moment. It meant my baby was getting closer. Off I ran (did I really run? It felt like running) to the toilet. I was given a pillow to lean on as I sat backwards. If things had been intense before I had no idea. I felt an extreme pain – yes, the P word! – PAIN tear through my body as the surge overtook me. With support I escaped the toilet, going again to the shower. Some relief came from the water but the cries of desperation were loud and real. I couldn’t possibly go on. And then I was given the delightful gift of meeting my dinner once again. As my vomit washed over my hands and knees in its rush to the drain I had the realisation that I didn’t care, I honestly didn’t care that I was wearing my own vomit. It was merely an unimportant transient experience. It was a part of birth. What I cared about was getting back to my beloved pool.

I entered the warm calm water as the crystal bowl played in the background. The bowl ‘singing’ gave me my best anchor. My team then broke into my world to offer me sterile water injections as a form of drug-free pain relief. Despite spending hours looking for an escape, this idea seemed ludicrous to me – why would I choose to have a home birth and then use pain relief that I perceived as not natural?! At this point my conscious birth-worker mind kicked in and I began to think about where I was at in my labour. I questioned “If I have been saying I can’t go on, and I’ve poo’d and I’ve vomited I MUST be in transition, that means I am dilated and I can push. I had NO urge to push at all but decided to give it a go. A small test push and I felt my baby nudge the opening of my cervix but best of all the pain stopped! This was such a revelation to me. On all fours, I pulled together all of the strength I could muster and pushed as hard as I could – I felt my baby turn a corner and descend a very long way through the birth canal. I made noises I had never heard from myself before, like a wild animal breaking free

My baby is coming, my baby is coming I thought excitedly, this crazy painful endurance race will soon be over. My midwife encouraged me to feel for membranes which were intact and bulging. I pushed hard on them but couldn’t feel my baby yet. Another push and I could feel the membranes bulging out further and my baby’s head about an inch or two behind them. “I’m going to break in two” I yelled out as my pelvis opened. I heard in reply “no, you wont”.  That was all the encouragement I needed to be able to steel myself for a massive push – I felt a POP! as my membranes broke. Through my grunting I yelled “GET ELIZA!” I wanted her at the birth. I kept on pushing and felt my baby’s head crown, my vagina stretch and stretch, I wondered if I would tear my perineum and decided I didn’t care as my baby’s head emerged out of my body completely. PHEW! I rolled onto my bottom and rested a moment. I didn’t realise at the time that I was the only one who knew my baby’s head had been born. The water now murky from my membranes breaking obscured the view for everyone. It was our secret. I reached down and felt my baby’s ear, took a deep breath and as I grunted I felt my baby’s shoulders applying more and more pressure on my perineum. Suddenly my baby shot out of me and across the pool under the murky water. I felt instant relief and complete exhaustion in that moment. Soon after I heard “pick up your baby”. I didn’t feel like I could even lift my arms, I had no strength left. I soon realised though that no one else would and it was my baby to collect. I pulled him to my chest in disbelief in what I had done, what I had achieved. I had survived and conquered the single most difficult challenge in my life - I had birthed my baby! My daughter had made it there just in time, though not she nor anyone else in the room had actually witnessed his birth. My team only realised he had been born when his little hand appeared on the surface of the pool. I am very lucky to have an image of this moment.

My baby boy was born at 12:20am on September 11, 2015, into water and surrounded by love. In my disbelief I exclaimed "Oh my God, Its a baby!"  The little boy we didn't know we needed had arrived. Our family was complete.

In the moments following birth I thought that I needed to find a new career; that I could never ask another woman to go through what I had been through. It was too awful and difficult. It was too big a task to expect of anyone. One of the blessings of my large birth team was having many people to debrief with, and many versions of the experience to hear. Those conversations, along with the amazing birth photography, helped me to see that what I had accomplished was both extreme and incredible, while also being completely normal. I was not superhuman. I was a woman and I know now from the inside what women can achieve. I thoroughly look forward to supporting women through birth again. I have more passion to do this than I did before. I know through experience now that we can do this. We are born to do this - to be supported and loved, to endure and surrender, and to conquer and emerge as powerful lionesses.