I almost had to go back and read my midwife’s notes when I started writing this, as it all happened so quickly and so powerfully that I am still to this day (a month later!) absorbing and processing it all.

*****

On the Tuesday before she was born, I had plans to go to a La Leche League (breastfeeding) support group meeting with my friend Jess in the morning. As it turned out my husband happened to be home sick that morning too, a rare occurrence. Sick is not always something he does well and we (my elder daughter and I) were more than happy to get out of the house, in fact I decided on the way to the meeting that maybe I’d stay out for the day and give him some space.

So the meeting came and went, and then we headed back to Jess’ afterwards to finish our lunch and so that the kids could play and wear themselves out a bit more. As we chatted and supervised the kids, I kept feeling this immense pressure in my pelvis, the strength of which came and went to varying degrees but I dismissed it somewhat and just put it down to my baby having been engaged for the last six weeks or so.

I finally got a text from my husband later on in the afternoon worriedly asking where I was, because as it turns out in my irritation I had forgotten to tell him of my plans – oops! So I let him know that we’d probably be heading back home soon as I prefer to avoid the worst of the afternoon traffic if I can, and that as I was getting tired and rather uncomfortable that we’d just get takeaway for dinner once I got in.

Our evening passed uneventfully, and so at around 6am on the morning of Wednesday, July 29^th, I heard my daughter stirring as she is quite the early bird. She eventually came into our room around 6:30am, and feeling the need to at least attempt a lie-in of some sort, turned the TV on for her in the lounge and headed back to bed.

As I lay there trying to drift back off into sleep I began to experience the same sensations of immense pressure that I had felt the day before, and I think that somewhere in my subconscious, I went “Oh crap, I’m going to go into labour today aren’t I....” whilst my half asleep conscious self battled to ignore it. Around 7am my husband got up for his shower, and I gave up on the idea of sleeping in. I asked him if he is going to his local office or whether he’ll be in town, and remind him to take his cellphone with him.

As I pottered about getting dressed, the sensations continued to come and go, and still perhaps in denial somewhat, I asked my husband whether he REALLY needed to go all the way into downtown today, as it would take him longer to get back than if he was at the main office closer to our home.

At that same point I text my midwife with an ironically vague text (ironic as she knows I am not prone to texting unless there is a definite reason), saying something along the lines of “I’m not sure if this is really it, but the energy has definitely shifted, so thought I’d let you know.” This was around 7:30am.

I wandered down to the kitchen, and it was at this point that things started to build up a little, so I called Jess as she was due to be my main support person and a possible distraction for my daughter . It took me a further half hour or so though before I was completely out of my denial, having been unable to complete the small task of boiling the jug for a cup of tea, as I would have to stop and actually focus inwards until the sensation passed.

I probably spent about half an hour or so until just after 8am on the kitchen floor, leaning over one of the chairs at our dining table with my top half. Roland had fortunately clicked on and rung his work already to tell them he likely wouldn’t be in, and then set about organising something for Erin to be occupied with, which would then enable him to set up the la bassine birthing pool in our lounge.

I ended up back in the master bedroom eventually, positioning myself on one side of the bed with my left leg up and partly under me, my torso and arms supported by pillows, and my right leg at 90 degrees to the floor as my support. I pulled the curtains to darken the room as it was getting increasingly light, and I felt more and more the urge to retreat within myself and make a birthing ‘cave’ of sorts.

This is where things began to blur a little more. I remember my midwife phoning me back to say she was on her way over after having dropped her kids at school, and me telling her they were coming more often but not lasting a whole lot longer, so we still “probably” had a bit more time. Ha!

I remember Jess arriving with her babe Lorelai strapped to her back in a woven wrap, but not being able to verbally communicate much more to her than the irony of “I think this is it!”

So I continued on surrounded by pillows and vocalising through each contraction, keeping it as low, soft and open as possible.

Anna arrived (my midwife), and I recall her briefly being in the room to check in with me before heading to the other end of the house to set her own things up and lend a hand with the pool and my birthing altar.

The last glance at any kind of clock or watch that I can remember was at 8:44am, and I think not long after this Anna asked if she could check baby’s heart rate and take my blood pressure. I said yes, but as long as it was in between contractions when she started. I had shifted to the other side of the bed by that stage, as my right leg needed a bit of a break if things were going to carry on. However when the next contraction came I couldn’t stand anything being on me or up against my skin so I believe what I muttered at Anna was “off, off, OFF !!!!”.

Not long after that point, things kicked up a notch, and I began to need to rock my body back and forth as well as continue vocalising quite loudly through each contraction. I managed to get my shirt off, as by this stage I was rather sweaty, but didn’t quite make it to getting my pants off.

The next thing I know, I am completely overcome by the urge to get off the bed and kneel along the floor with my arms up against the bed, and as I was alone again in the room, it took what little outward focus I had left to yell for Anna and Jess, who in turn yelled for my husband who was still filling up the birth pool.

That, as it turns out, was my brief journey through transition... I remember spontaneously emptying my bowels and then announcing “Awesome, I’ve just shit myself!” but still being reluctant to take my pants off as it was just taking too much effort away from my inwards focus on birthing this baby.

Fortunately though, with a group effort we managed to get them off, as moments later my beautiful baby came flying earthside with such a roar from within that I even surprised myself!  It passed through my mind that perhaps I was going to split in two, but the next thing I know she is bawling lustily on the floor in front of me and I am being gently prompted to scoop her up, my beautiful, mucky baby! I could scarcely believe all was said and done, so quickly and powerfully, in my OWN home, surrounded by my friends and family.

So as you have already probably guessed, we never made it to the birthing pool – but it didn’t matter to me by that stage, I had done it! In little more than two and a half amazing hours. The second midwife didn’t even make it, nor did my friend Helen who I’d also called on for support (and also happened to be who I hired the birth pool from as part of her WAHM business) – she arrived maybe half an hour after.

My husband only just made it in the end, to see her born, and as we were wrapped in towels I introduced both him and my elder daughter to their new daughter and baby sister. We proceeded out to the lounge, and all had a laugh about the pool having only just completed filling, and perhaps we’d hop in later after the placenta had been birthed.

(Below, big sister Erin enjoys soaking and playing in the birth pool).

The biggest contrast for me, at that point, was how ALIVE and strong I felt – after Erin’s birth I lost a lot of blood and felt like death warmed up, and could barely get up off the bed. This time was different though, this babe clearly had her own plans, and the Goddess had been watching us both. Not long after, the placenta was born, and the opportunity came for Roland to have a cuddle with his newest daughter as I went back down the hallway for what felt like the best shower ever... again in my OWN shower – absolute bliss.

Homebirth rocks!