My daughter’s birth around 3 years previously ended in an emergency c-section and through loads and loads of reading, becoming part of the Joyous Birth community and attending VBAC’s in hospital as a student midwife, I knew that a homebirth with an independent midwife was the only was I was going to push a babe out of my yoni.

As we started planning for a second child, I told my partner this is what I wanted and so began a long journey of trying to convince him that birthing at home was the safest option. He was still very affected by our daughter’s birth as they whisked me away to go under GA and he didn’t know for 45 mins what was happening. He was categorically against homebirth and nothing I could say would convince him otherwise. We reached an impasse where I said my body, so my choice.

Then as the political situation with independent midwifery flared up, there was so much more focus in the media. DP is doing a creative writing course and at that time he had to cover a current issue for an assignment. He heard me bang on and on about homebirth and decided to focus his assignment on it. Finally he read the research and one night admitted that although he was scared, he was also convinced that homebirth was safe. We were going to have a homebirth!

Skip to 39 weeks pregnant. There is a lot in between of course, but this is about the birth. My pregnancy was wonderful, I was surrounded by a community of loving women and I was never more in love with my family. I was convinced that I was going to go post dates as I was 10 days over with dd. I felt great and everyone was saying that I didn’t look ready. My mum was due to arrive in a couple of days to be there for my daughter during labour.

On the Friday night, about 8:30, I was laying down with my dd as she was going to sleep and I felt a slight trickle onto my undies. I have pretty strong pelvic floor muscles so was sure that it wasn’t wee leaking out. After a couple of more trickles, I decided to put a pad on and got a little nervous and excited. I kept the info to myself though as I was still in a little shock that this might be the beginning of something. My mum wasn’t here yet….yikes!

Around midnight I see blood when I wipe and decide that I can definitely smell amniotic fluid. Ok, yep, uh-huh, this is gotta be it. But calm down, cause pre-labour went for days with you last time and sometimes can go for longer. I go to bed and lie down, wondering whether or not to tell DP and realise I can’t bear to keep it to myself. He has been hoping I will go early as he is desperate to have a holiday from work. It takes a while for the info to seep in and then we are both up, him searching for his lucky hat and me sitting in the lounge room trying to come to terms with the beginning of this next step that I have been anticipating, scared of and curious about for such a long time. I call my midwife to get some reassurance and she tells me the things I need to hear.

I get myself some toast and a cuppa and eventually force myself to go to bed. I get some mild period pain cramps and my mind is racing at a mile a minute. Seven years ago I did a meditation retreat and I try to remember how to calm the mind as I know how essential it is for me to rest. It must have worked eventually as I woke up again in 3 hours then managed another hour before my daughter came in and asked me (after getting a tip off from dada) if I was having the baby today. Maybe a couple of more days I tell her and she takes it in. I call the birth team to give them the heads up…it could be a while but its started.

I always anticipated that at my first signs I would be super excited but it just wasn’t sinking in. I felt calm, that was great, but for such an anticipated event, it all seemed just a little too surreal and so feelings of excitement got replaced by a hot pot of other emotions.

I put on my divine blessingway necklace, got dressed and we went out to the shops and to vote. I loved doing such normal things as I knew my body was doing its thing. I wasn’t getting much pain and when they came they were very irregular and totally manageable. We came home, had some gourmet brekkie, played some backgammon and then I went and lay down for a nap. I can do this. I can’t believe it’s happening! The rest of the day and evening is up and down as I contemplate more and more of this pre-labour. I get some sleep through that night, moaning my way through the contractions when they come.

The next morning, Sunday, I wake up quite frustrated and get on the phone to my midwife. She comes over an hour or so later and observes that I seem to be fighting the contractions and thinking about it all too much. So right. I let go for the next couple and decide after her suggestion to go with my family to the markets instead of dwelling at home. What’s the worst that can happen at the markets my midwife asks? You have some contractions and your waters break? So what! Some more great advice. The concept of letting go visited me many times in my pregnancy and it becomes the thing I feel I must remind myself of constantly through this part of the journey.

It is a slow trip and I run into people I know which is bizarre and so normal at the same time. I have contractions in the middle of a crowded market place and lean on my shopping trolley while singing my song in my head. Then I have to go as they ramp up a bit. We get home and into the bath I go where I pass what I think is a huge clot and freak out a little bit. I then bleed a little after stepping out of the bath and this concerns me. I ask my midwife to come after she assures me everything is fine and she is on her way. I feel guilty that I ask her to leave a birth that isn’t one of her clients to come to me. An independent midwife truly is the gold standard of care.

When my midwife, L arrives we chat and again she assures me that everything is fine. Instinctively I felt that everything was ok, but it was nice to get the reassurance. I eat some amazing chicken and corn soup that a wonderful JB woman gave me and I feel energized with my new company and a full belly.

My partner helped my dd to get to sleep and then asked if I was ok with him going for a mountain bike ride with his mate. I am more than happy for him to go as he has been looking after me and dd so wonderfully for the last week or so and I want him to get some time to himself. I also thought that I was ages away from any action.

L and I watch a movie and I get into the groove. I discover that opening my palms wide and mouthing ‘open’ help me to understand and cope wonderfully with my contractions. Sure they hurt, but the simple act of opening my hands and mouth work wonders. I also manage to shut down in between each contraction (about 10 -20 mins apart I reckon). This in retrospect is me labouring and dilating, completely unhindered and on my own terms.

At some point I get a phone call from dp asking how I am going. I tell him all is going smoothly and dd is still asleep. Great he says, cause his mate has just fallen off the bike and has a suspected broken or dislocated finger and can he take him to the hospital. I think it is quite funny and tell him of course he can. Nothing much has changed, the contractions aren’t getting any closer together and dd is still asleep. Ten mins later dd wakes up and I ring dp to come and take her away, so he swings by on his way to the hospital and I try and find my groove again.

I admit to L that I am getting quite tired and need to find a place where I can really take advantage of the long space between contractions. She suggests the bed, lying on my side with pillows propping me up from all angles. I immediately think that lying down is wrong, but think that rest is more important. I am surprised that it’s not so bad and I am left alone, I again retreat into this labour place that I keep on finding. And so the passage of time is not normal, I don’t know if it is an hour or 10 mins that passes.

At the peak of a contraction I feel the most incredible sensation of my waters breaking and flooding the bottom half of my body. I shout out to L telling her what has happened and keep on saying over and over again how great it felt. Such a highlight of my labour! L gets on the phone to dp and my other support person, N, and tells them that it is time to come home.

After it was all over, and me and dp are sharing our experiences, he tells me about this moment. Never, in his wildest dreams did he think that this birth story would involve him dashing from hospital to home to attend the imminent birth of his child. We have come a long way…

Dp arrives, my other support person, N arrives, the birth pool gets filled up, my daughter comes in and gently asks me if my waters have broke and then goes away to watch her show. All of this activity finally makes me realise that this is the real thing and in fact, I am probably going to start pushing real soon. I am ready to go!

I get into the pool and get used to the feeling of pressure in my bum and what exactly the urge to push feels like. Things get a little hazy here, which again reinforces all I have learnt about birth. Leave em the hell alone and it just happens by itself. I remember the water feeling amazing, getting out for a change of scenery, sitting on the toilet and having a beautiful cry as Beth Orton’s voice in the background triggers something in me, and dd coming in intermittently and then leaving as if it was the most normal thing in the world to be happening.

Then after a while, I really start to push and it becomes a whole lot of hard work. I am really tired and I know that it has been a long time. I can feel my baby’s head about an inch or so inside my vagina which feels amazing but for some reason doesn’t help me think that things are progressing. I just can’t seem to get these huge pushes out that I need in order to get my baby out. Yet, I can’t possible imagine summoning anymore strength.

At some point dd comes in and gets right up close to my yoni as she is told that what she can see is ‘her baby’s’ head. I am so impressed at how she handled the whole experience. There was only one occasion when I was swearing and moaning in huge pain and frustration that she got a scared and had a huge cry, she was however quickly reassured and managed to get on with watching her show…(oh she watched a lot of dvd’s that day).

L figured out that me sitting on dp’s lap, using him as my birthing stool is the best position in relation to my pelvic outlet and the baby’s head. At one point the baby completely sucked right back up inside of me and I was so shocked…nooooo! I was quickly assured that it was most likely the baby turning and that it was a very good thing.

This next part of the birth was the most incredibly hard part of anything I have ever had to do. My babe was crowning, had been for some time, but it was as if he was stuck. I had an incredibly tight band of my perineum that just didn’t seem to want to go away. I was pushing with everything I had and nothing seemed to be moving. My team wouldn’t tell me how long I had been pushing for and I accepted that, but I could tell it had been a while (about 3 hours). What the fuck was happening here? I screamed, I lost my temper, I bit my lip, I said so many times that I cannot do this. And to my utter shame, I asked my midwife to cut me. I honestly thought it was the only way this babe was going to come out. The thought of transferring crossed my mind, but was quickly dismissed. How the hell was I going to get into a car and travel when I couldn’t even change positions without the utmost of effort?

Luckily my totally sane midwife told me that she didn’t really have the equipment and she wasn’t worried as baby’s heart rate was fine every time she checked, there was no need for an episiotomy, we just needed to keep on going how we were. I will be forever grateful that she didn’t take my request seriously and understood that instead it was the request of a tired, overworked labouring woman who really didn’t want scissors anywhere near her yoni.

And so I figured that I just had to do it. I somehow had to get the strength to push beyond the point that wasn’t getting me anywhere. I was summoning everything inside. I don’t know how many more pushes there were after this decision, it couldn’t have been many. I remember hearing L call out for N to come as it was happening and bam! out came all of my babe in one almighty push. The next thing I know, I have a vernix covered delightful thing on my chest and the most incredible feeling of relief sweeps over me. It’s over, I did it! And of course I say this over and over again. The frenzy of the moment is a treasured memory. Like so many birth stories I have read, it takes a while for someone to check the sex of the baby and we discover we have a son….a son, wow.

I started bleeding and so the mood changed for a little bit as L tried to bring my attention to the matter at hand. I put him on the breast and ate the pieces of placenta that was offered to me. At no point do I feel woozy, so I don’t ever remember feeling worried. I guess that has a lot to do with the wonderful cocktail of hormones that were coursing through my system. The placenta comes out with a bit of ouch and finally I am done. Huge, huge relief. I ask if I have torn, sure that I have and am gobsmacked that the only damage is a labial graze and a tiny tear inside my vagina, both will heal all by themselves no problem. Amazing.

My dd missed the actual birth but was there a minute after and sharing the moment with her is pretty special. We all gush and talk over each other as we get to know our new family member Jarrah. I eventually get into bed, have tea and toast and marvel at what has just happened. I pushed a 4.5 kg baby outta my yoni. Bliss.

Welcome my darling Jarrah xoxoxox

A big thanks to all my fantastic support people. You know who you are!!

Related posts:

1. Homebirth of Harper – HBAC
2. Phoebe Triumphant Birth – HBAC
3. Homebirth Of Zara
4. Naomi, Transfer To Hospital Abruption
5. Homebirth vs Hospital: Statistics To Die For