Birth Stories

The Birth of Elysia - 15th March 2008

Thursday 13th March. I attend my regular weekly get together with my 1st time round NCT antenatal class pals. Our first babies were born in the summer of 2005. Out of seven, three of the group have had second babies and two of us are currently pregnant again. I am due at the weekend.

It is almost time to leave. It dawns on me that the next time I see the group; I will possibly have two children. A sudden wave of fear floods me. What on earth possessed me to plan a home birth? Am I mad? Will I be able cope with the labour pain again? Surely I will need to have drugs, and plenty of them. Oh no, I don’t want to go through with it. I can’t go back - there is no getting out of this one. No choice, I have to go through with labour again!

I study the second time mums. Hmmm, they all survived it. Perhaps it will be OK.

Friday morning. I wake with tell tale period pains. However whereas the first time round, I could definitely pin them down to 10 minutes apart, today they are more variable. Hubby leaves for work. He has a business dinner in the city scheduled. My son has a regular trip to a toddler group in the diary. I decide that if I go to the toddler group, at least my son will be entertained, whilst I get the chance to put my feet up and monitor my pains.

A little later, I am perched on a chair at the toddler group, within viewing distance of a clock, supping raspberry leaf tea. I chat to fellow mums, not letting on that I think I might be in labour - just in case it is a false alarm.

Upon departing the group I phone my husband and tell him that he might want to cancel his dinner in the city.

I am suddenly inspired to buy my son a new DVD to keep him occupied during the event, just in case he is around. ‘The Jungle Book’. Perfect. I usher my son to Woolworth’s. Hurrah! It is in stock.

I have read that I should organise a labour project, such as baking a birthday cake, to keep my mind off of early labour. I phone a friend from Waitrose. “What ingredients do I need? Have you a recipe?” My good old friend sorts me out.

I treat my son to a trip on the bus home. Then everything dies down. No further labour pains. So I decide to postpone the cake, and just potter around the house in the afternoon, checking and double checking my home birth kit and set up in my dining room.

My husband arrives home. To my disappointment our evening is uneventful.

Saturday morning: 5:30am. I awake from a fitful sleep as I feel a sudden pop. Waters breaking? I rush to the toilet, a steady gush releases. My hubby awakes. This is it. Or is it? I phone my independent midwife Anja, and tell her I think my waters have broken. Anja tells me to call her when my contractions are 5 minutes apart.

I figure this could be hours so settle in our sitting room with a cup of tea. Contractions speed up pretty quickly. I do yoga hip wriggles using my mantle piece for support and my hubby rubs my back. Time for the tens machine. What a super device.

An hour later contractions are 5 minutes apart. I can no longer stand up, so I lay over my birthing ball, gently rocking to ease the pain. My hubby phones Anja who says she is on her way.

7:00: Anja arrives. She quickly examines me and tells me to hop into the pool. It is heaven, so warm and soothing. My hubby sets up the Ipod with my yoga music on constant replay.

Something is missing. “Did you bring the gas and air?” I suddenly panic.

“It is in the car” My midwife responds. “Can I just look at it?” I ask.

Anja brings me the gas and air. I relax. No, I cannot just look at it: I have to use it. I love gas and air. I imagine it is a SCUBA breathing kit and use it to take deep breaths to slow down my breathing. In between contractions I stretch my legs out in the water and take huge gulps of cold water. A cold flannel over my face and neck also works wonders.

8:00: My 2/12 year old son Luca awakes. He waves to me in the birth pool, and then my husband takes him downstairs for breakfast. How bizarre is that? We have all of our neighbours on high alert to take him in, if needs be. However, Luca decides he wants to watch the Jungle Book in the playroom.

I am happy that my hubby, who I know is a little queasy about the birth thing, is happily occupied keeping our son amused, so I can concentrate on the labour at hand. Yoga music combined with the faint sound of the Bear Necessities fill my head.

I feel the urge to push fairly early on, and although I am pushing mightily, I feel it is not getting me anywhere.

Anja offers to check to see how far I am dilated. I get out of the pool in between contractions and am disappointed to find out I am only 7cms dilated.

Anja suggests a new tactic. Whenever I feel the urge to push, I should just breathe through the contraction. With the help of the gas and air I am able to do this. I have three noodle floats in the pool to aid buoyancy. Again, in between contractions I stretch out my legs in the pool. The water is so lovely and supporting.

A little while later I experience the weird yet amazing sensation of feeling the baby drop within me. Anja calls downstairs: “Baby is coming!”

My hubby rushes up. I grab hold of his hand. The baby crowns and I bite him - hard. I realise that I could actually bite through his hand, so I grab one of my noodle floats and take a bite out of that instead.

Yup, I remember that crowning from the first time round. Ouch, ouch, ouch!

Then with another push, out pops the baby. It is 10:05am and I am the proud mother of a baby daughter.

The Jungle Book DVD finishes – what super timing. My son joins us in the dining room. I see him hesitating at the door. But he is absolutely fine. And it is just amazing to be sitting in a pool in my dining room with my family around me, and my newborn baby in my arms.

The cord is cut. Anja, ushers me to the toilet where I sit down with my baby suckling me. In what seems like no time at all I birth my placenta – just like that, without the need of drugs!

Anja has made a bed up for me on my sofa and I curl up there with my baby daughter and my son, whilst my hubby organises the most delicious toast and marmalade with hot chocolate I have ever had.

Whilst tucking into breakfast, Anja moves fast, cleaning everything including the towels. If it weren’t for the birthing pool in my dining room, and my kit, you would not have believed a birth had taken place.

A little while later I have a shower. My own shower: with my own towels and a fresh pair of pyjamas. So comforting. Then it is back to my bed on my sofa, with my baby daughter and the rest of my family.

What an experience. So relaxed, so controlled (OK, it did hurt like hell as well, they don’t call it labour for nothing!)

So home birth versus hospital birth? For me this is a no brainer. It boils down to security, confidence and comfort. A mad dash to hospital whilst experiencing contractions 5 minutes apart, or staying exactly where you are? A sterile hospital room, or the comfort of your own home? A midwife whom you have never met before, or a midwife with whom you have built a good antenatal relationship? For me, birth is a personal family event, and it was my family that experienced it with me. After the birth, my family was not subject to visiting hours. My family stayed with me.

After the birth, it was just like another typical weekend, apart from the fact that we had a new baby in the house. The boys popped out for fresh air and to buy lunch, whilst I rested with my new baby. In fact, I pretty much chilled out on the sofa for the next week. I learnt from the last time, enjoy as much rest and relaxation as you can!

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