"Enfanter dans la joie: quelle belle perpective" le récit de naissance de Elsa et Idan

Il y quelque mois j’ai eu l’énorme plaisir de rencontrer Elsa. Elle m’a parlé de son accouchement -  toujours avec un sourire éclatant. Jusqu’à ce moment je navais jamais rencontré une française qui parlait de son accouchement de cette manière!

Je me suis dit : c’est ça que je cherchais !  Depuis que je me suis installée à Paris, j’ai entendu pleins de femmes se plaignant de l’accouchement, des choses plutôt négatives, par rapport à la naissance. Mais je savais qu’il devait y avoir d’autres histoires, même si on ne les entend pas souvent, je savais qu’il devait en exister en France, comme partout dans le monde…

Petit à petit- grâce aux réseaux des amis français et aussi grâce aux rencontres Positive Birth movement Paris - j’ai eu le plaisir de rencontrer encore d’autres femmes qui m’ont parlé de leurs accouchements bien vécus, comme celui d’ Elsa.

Il existe, sans doute, des progrès à faire en France pour que l’accouchement soit plus respectueux de la physiologie et du droit/choix des femmes – comme ailleurs dans le monde.

Mais pour l’instant, j’espère que ces récits d’accouchements magnifiques – comme celui d’ Elsa - pourront aider à une vision de la naissance plus ‘positif’, en même temps qu’inspirer et soutenir les futures mamans qui souhaitent vivre un accouchement « alternatif »

C’est donc – avec grand plaisir que je partage ces merveilleux récits de naissance sur mon site.  J’espère pouvoir publier d’autres histoires comme la sienne : des histoires de femmes soutenues, respectées, et de femmes qui ont une vision d’un accouchement joyeux, vécu en pleine conscience !

En les attendant….

 

 

Ce que je trouve magique avec la naissance c'est que l'on ne sait pas quand son bébé va choisir de naître...

A compter du 9e mois, je savais que tu pouvais arriver d'un moment à l'autre... Quelle délicieuse sensation de vivre ces derniers instants où tu étais en moi.
Je n'étais pas pressée, tu étais déjà la, avec moi, je te berçais du bout de mes doigts, avec la paume de ma main dans laquelle tu venais te lover, je te chantais des chansons, je te parlais... On allait au yoga tous les deux, on nageait dans la piscine et on papotait au rythme de mes respirations...

J'attendais sereinement ton signal, celui de ta naissance, celui de mon accouchement.

Ce dernier mois, je n'avais plus peur d'accoucher. Le terme approchait et j'étais de plus en plus prête, j'avais hâte de vivre ce moment, cette expérience unique dans la vie d'une femme.

Dès le début de ma grossesse, j'ai senti en moi l'envie très forte d'accoucher naturellement, l'envie de vivre pleinement ce passage, ton passage vers la vie. L'envie d'accoucher en pleine conscience, d'être libre de mes positions, de ne pas être dépossédée de mon corps et surtout de t'accompagner le long du chemin.

Je me suis préparée à cela. J'avais conscience qu'accoucher sans péridurale, de nos jours, n'était pas la norme et surtout était mal compris, mal accepté. Quand j'en parlais autour de moi, on me demandait si j'aimais souffrir. Non je n'aime pas souffrir. Mais qui a parlé de souffrance?

Grâce notamment à de très belles lectures (« vivre sa grossesse et son accouchement- une naissance heureuse » d'Isabelle brabant, « Accouchement - naissance un chemin initiatique » de Martine Texier), je me suis préparée à accepter la douleur des contractions, à la vivre, à l'accueillir, à la visualiser comme une succession de vagues qui me rapprochent de toi.
La pratique du yoga prénatal, la conscience de mon corps et l'explication physiologique des étapes de l'accouchement ont démystifié cette douleur dont en parle tant, depuis que le monde est monde.

Enfanter dans la joie, quelle belle perspective.

Heureusement, ton père me soutenait et souhaitait nous accompagner dans ta naissance. On a fait de l'haptonomie, où on a appris comment il allait pouvoir m'aider et me soulager pendant l'accouchement.

Le jour J ou "les jours J":

Mercredi. Les contractions ont débuté. Très légères. Comme une petite douleur prémenstruelle qui allait et venait.
Ca y est c'est ton signal. La joie m'envahit. Je vérifie que la valise pour la maternité est prête. Avec ton papa on se dit que c'est pour bientôt.

Jeudi. Je ressens toujours ces petites contractions régulières... Mon corps s'habitue. On m'a dit que pour toi, chaque contraction était un petit câlin. Cette idée me plait. Les contractions vont et viennent dans la journée. Je vais au yoga, je sais que c'est la dernière fois avant ta naissance... En arrivant à la maison, elles sont un peu plus fortes mais toujours largement supportables, comme un premier jour de règles, elles sont surtout plus régulières. Je perds le bouchon muqueux. Je me dis que c'est vraiment pour bientôt...
Subitement, je réalise que je ne t'ai pas acheté la peluche pingouin que j'avais repérée! Je vais te l'acheter. À l'allure à laquelle je marche, ça me prend bien 1 heure. J'achète aussi du chocolat noir, que j'aime tant et dont j'aurais bien besoin pour me donner de l'énergie.
La nuit les contractions s'arrêtent.

Vendredi. Au réveil je crains que la poche des eaux ne se soit fissurée... On va donc à la maternité. Tout va bien, je suis déjà dilatée à 1,5. Super ! Je me dis que ca y est c'est parti...
Je rentre à la maison, on passe une très belle journée, toi et moi, au rythme des contractions, un peu plus fortes que la veille, toutes les 10 minutes environ.

Le soir, elles sont plus douloureuses. Je ne peux plus parler pendant la contraction. Je respire calmement. C’est vendredi soir, on dîne en famille. Je n'ai jamais été aussi sereine. On est dans notre bulle. Je prends un bon bain, je me prépare, je me dis que c'est pour cette nuit.
Les heures passent, les contractions s'intensifient. Je commence à respirer dans la contraction... Elle arrive, je la sens monter, j'expire lentement jusqu'à ce qu'elle redescende et qu'elle disparaisse. Elles sont fortes.

Minuit. Départ pour la maternité.
1,5 de dilatation. Quoi??! Une journée de contraction et mon col na pas bougé!? On rentre à la maison, un peu déçus quand même... On s'attendait à te rencontrer...

Samedi 6h du matin. Les contractions me réveillent. Je vais prendre un bain chaud, elles se calment un peu... Je ne comprends pas bien, pourquoi depuis plus de 48h, elles viennent et repartent? Déjà 3 nuits à croire que c'est imminent... Surtout la veille au soir, c'était vraiment douloureux, et la plus rien.

14h. Ça reprend, toutes les 7 minutes environ. Plus fortes. On se promène au parc, je m'arrête pour respirer dans la contraction, je m’appuie contre ton père.

19h. Apres une petite accalmie, les contractions reprennent de plus belle. Je les ressens dans les reins. Je les accueille dans la joie, je sens qu'elles sont plus fortes et qu'elles me rapprochent de toi. On met la musique, on danse, on se sourit. Ton père me soulage avec des massages en bas du dos et l'application d'une bouillotte. Pour faire avancer les choses on va marcher, longuement, chercher un japonais à manger, mon plaisir ultime, on remonte les 8 étages à pied... Quoique on fasse, je m'arrête toutes les 6 minutes, penchée en avant, visualisant la vague sur laquelle je glisse comme sur un surf.

Minuit. Départ pour la maternité.
Cette fois ci je ne repartirai pas sans toi.
2 cm. J'ai du mal à y croire... Je pensais pourtant, au vu de la douleur et du rythme des contractions, que le travail était bien avancé... La sage femme, Siem, m'explique que c'est du "pré-travail", et que le travail n’a pas encore commencé...

Je suis encore sereine. Heureuse d'être à la maternité. Apres un bain, les contractions se sont de nouveau arrêtées.

Siem me conseille de me reposer, de dormir un peu, car il me faut des forces.

5h du matin. Réveillée par les contractions, plus fortes que les précédentes... Mais le col n’a pas bougé.

Désespoir. Je suis envahie par la peur que le travail ne commence pas...

Le médecin est venu et m'a expliquée que mon bébé ne supportait pas toujours les contractions, qui duraient depuis 3 jours déjà... Qu’ il valait mieux poser une péridurale dans l'hypothèse où il faudrait intervenir rapidement....

Je suis tellement triste! Le scénario que je redoutais tant... J'imaginais déjà une césarienne en urgence en l'absence d'évolution du travail...

Je pleure, je trouve ça injuste.
Comment refuser la pose d'une péridurale à un médecin qui me dit que mon bébé est en souffrance?

J'accepte, je sens que je n'ai pas vraiment le choix. Premier lâcher prise sur "mon projet". Je comprends que je ne contrôle pas la situation, que je ne peux pas la contrôler.

"Pourquoi Siem? Pourquoi? Pourquoi ces contractions si douloureuses ne sont pas efficaces?".
Siem m'a regardée dans les yeux, m’a pris la main, et ma dit d'une voix si douce: "tu sais Elsa, peut être que tu ne veux pas le lâcher ton bébé...".
J'ai regardé ton père, et j'ai pleuré à chaudes larmes "je crois que je ne veux peux le lâcher...". Quelques minutes après, je t'ai parlé en te caressant affectueusement "mon bébé, mon amour, on a passé 9 merveilleux mois tous les deux, maintenant tu vas naître... Et je pourrai enfin te prendre dans mes bras... Je suis prête mon cœur..."

Et la j'ai senti. J'ai senti que chaque contraction, pourtant de la même intensité qu'avant, ouvrait mon col petit à petit... Je lâchais prise, pour de vrai, pour la première fois de ma vie... Mon mental ne me guidait plus, il était en sommeil... Seul mon corps savait. La douleur me guidait. Je n'étais plus là dans la salle d'accouchement. J'étais ailleurs, je dansais au rythme des contractions, j'expirais à l'intérieur de la douleur. Et je souriais entre deux contractions, je reprenais des forces pendant ce répit.

Je ne me suis pas trompée. 30 minutes plus tard, je suis déjà à 4.

Quand l'anesthésiste arrive, je plane totalement, remplie d'endorphine et d’ocytocine. Elle me pose le cathéter dans le dos, je lui demande de ne pas m'injecter de produit.

5 cm. La sage femme perce la poche des eaux pour accélérer le travail. La douleur s'intensifie, je fais des "hommmm" tres grave que j'ai appris au yoga. Avec ton père qui m'accompagne, dans chaque expiration. Il alterne les poches de glace dans le bas de mon dos avec la bouillotte. Je ne parle plus.

6 cm. Je suis au dessus de mon corps. Je me regarde d'en haut. Je plane. Une sorte d'état de transe.

7 cm. Je ne comprends pas. La douleur est ininterrompue. Je n'ai plus de répit entre chaque contraction. Tout est dans mes reins. Je perds pied. Mes sons deviennent de plus en plus aigus. Je ne vis plus chaque contraction comme une première. Elles s'enchaînent, elles m'emportent. Me coulent.

Nina, la sage femme, me dit que mon bébé est "en postérieur", et comme il est très bas, son dos appui en permanence sur le mien. Elle me propose une dose de péridurale.

Soulagement. "d'accord...mais juste un peu promis? "

La péridurale est parfaitement dosée. Mes contractions sont fortes encore mais je ne ressens plus la douleur entre les deux. J’arrive à me reposer, je ferme les yeux quelques secondes. Je suis apaisée.

10 cm. Dilatation complète! La joie m'envahit. Je m'installe sur le ballon, je décris l'infini avec mon bassin pour t'aider à descendre. Ton père à mis de la musique, un chanteur que l'on adore. Il m'accompagne en me massant le bas du dos et en m'appliquant de la glace à chaque contraction.

Je ressens le besoin de me mettre debout. Les contractions me donnent envie de pousser. Ton père est de l'autre côté du lit, debout en face de moi. À chaque contraction, je fléchis mes genoux, je tire sur les mains de ton père et je crie. L'envie de pousser n'est pas irrépressible comme on me l'avait décrit... Nina m'explique que la position en postérieur peut expliquer cette sensation. Les minutes passent... Il fait très chaud, nos mains sont moites. Je n'y arrive plus. Je n'arrive plus à pousser.

"Aidez moi, sortez le, je n'y arrive pas".
"Elsa tu peux le faire, tu le fais. Tu vas y arriver. Ton bébé n'est pas loin. Tu es formidable".

Avec le soutien inconditionnel de ton père et de la sage femme à chaque poussée, je reprenais la force de pousser à chaque contraction bien ancrée sur mes pieds.

"Allez encore un peu! Je sens ses cheveux, il en a plein" oh! Tu as plein de cheveux, tu n'es pas loin... Je peux te toucher avec mes doigts. Les larmes me montent, je te sens, tu es la. Tu es la entre mes jambes et je n'arrive pas à te sortir complètement de moi.

"Nina, pourquoi c'est si long?"
"Sûrement que ton bébé veut profiter encore de chaque millimètre en toi, il avance doucement mais sûrement".

Oui c'était ça. On avait encore besoin d'un peu de temps avant de se séparer. Et toi. Et moi.

La dernière contraction. L'ultime. Dimanche. 14h42. Après 55 minutes de poussée intense. Je pense à toi tellement fort. Je sais que tu m'entends. Notre connexion n'a jamais été si puissante qu'à cet instant précis.

Dans ma tête je crie ton nom..."IDAN...."

Ton père fait le tour du lit. Je croise son regard. Tu arrives. "Il est la" s'exclame t-il avec une Emotion dans la voix que je ne pourrai décrire et que je n'oublierai jamais. Je baisse la tête, Nina te tient avec ton père.

Tu n'as pas crié. Tu as pris une très grande inspiration. Ton premier souffle.

Je me suis allongée en te tenant dans mes bras. Peau contre peau. Je t'ai respiré, t'ai embrassé. Mon bébé. Mon amour. Ma vie.

Et la, on s'est regardé. Pour la première fois, on s'est rencontré. Tu as plongé tes yeux dans les miens pendant de longues minutes... Le temps s'est arrêté. Tout l'Amour du monde était dans ce regard.

Ta naissance. Ma renaissance.

Quand je repense à mon accouchement, je me dis que c'étaitun peu comme la vie! J'ai traversé tant d'étapes! Tant d'émotions m'ont parcourue: la joie, la peur, le doute, le désespoir, même la colère. J'ai réussi à lâcher prise, à perdre le contrôle, ce qui est une véritable initiation pour moi.

J'ai pu mettre au monde mon bébé, sentir son passage dans chaque pore de ma peau. J'ai laissé mon corps s'ouvrir et s'étirer sans déchirure, sans violence. J'ai laissé mon cœur s'ouvrir à l'infini.
En position allongée, je n'aurai probablement pas réussi à pousser mon bébé qui était en postérieur (la tête tournée vers les étoiles et non vers le sol),  il y aurait certainement eu des forceps, une épisiotomie ou autre intervention.
J'ai fait confiance à mon bébé, à mon corps, à mon instinct mais surtout à la Vie.

Souvent on me demande si c'était long.
Je ne sais pas répondre à cette question.
Le temps de la naissance, c est comme hors du temps. L'instant présent comme seule unité.
Il n'y plus d'horloge, seulement des contractions qui donnent le rythme et dans lesquelles on s'abandonne. Pour de vrai.
Ça a surement pris le temps dont j'avais besoin pour devenir mère. Le temps dont mon bébé avait besoin pour naître.

Idan, ta naissance, elle était belle.
Et finalement ce n'était pas tant la question de la péridurale.
Ta naissance était belle car on l'a fait ensemble. Tous les 3. Car on l'a vécu en pleine conscience, dans l'instant présent.
Dans l'Amour.
Dans la Vie.

 

 

 

My Coconut Baby: Maria & Alaia Luisa's birth story

My Coconut Baby

Sigh the breath out, the main instruction I remember from my yoga class with Nerissa.

I deliberately didn’t watch any of those one born every minute's... I read Spiritual Midwifery by Ina May Gaskin…have a peek…and watched one water birth “Finn” on the internet. In anticipation of my lovely birth ( I planned a natural water birth) I had my hair/waxing done... my toe nails painted blue….and my house had been cleaned from top to bottom more than once…it was nearly time.

At the age of 40 I’d been encouraged to have an induction as I was overdue. I persuaded the doctors to let me have another week as I felt fit and well. The week was coming to an end so Janice my gorgeous midwife did a little sweep for me..then encouraged me to go home and do all the nice things: walk...eat curry...romcom and cuddles. Anyway I got home and did a lovely yoga practice..planning on the other lovelies later. I got up gently from relaxation and felt a wee - wet! Hmmm…I thought to myself  - I need to do those pelvic floor exercises more! Then ooooooo a bit more! And now yes…that’s my waters broken!

It’s 7pm by now and Rob drives me to the Friarage hospital. I take my overnight bag though I am sure I will be coming home. At the hospital it’s very busy (the Friarage is a little hospital and they only have 6 beds in the labour ward). I am examined by a lovely nurse who tells me “If you go home now you may not be able to come back and have your baby here as we are full, but if you stay we will see to you”

No brainer - I will stay, I really have my heart set on a natural birth at The Friarage. I feel safe and comfy with this hospital and the midwives. I’d visited beforehand to see the rooms, and check out that I was able to move and not be encouraged to stay on the bed! So yes I’m staying put! I am put on a monitor - all fine. Rob will go home and come back in the morning but before he goes I order him to bring me bread and chocolate muffins (strange as I’d had nothing sweet - nada! - all the way through pregnancy…even marmite tasted sweet to me!) Rob obliges and off he goes back home about 10pm.

I have a pyjama party in bed with myself and bump. Tuck into bread and chocolate muffins with a nice cup of tea - thanks nurse! Nurse checks pads, poop in the water (baby’s not mine)  so I will be induced in a couple of hours! BOLLOCKS (excuse my French) I don’t want that. I know that if I’m to be induced then it may lead to more pain relief for super strong contractions…I still have my heart set on as natural a birth as possible. Having said that I tell myself you have to go with whatever birth experience comes your way….just be sure to know that whatever happens your body is totally geared up to give birth…lightly.

It’s a small ward…about 6 beds.  It’s only me…waiting now untill it’s my turn. I ring my best friend - and new mum of twins -  Shona, to let her know I’m going to be induced in a couple of hours….but  I really want  to go into labour naturally. “Listen Maria,” she says “You can do it...You have all the power, all the strength to have a good birth”. Those words spur me on. I get up out of bed and pace the ward doing my funny camel walk I’ve learnt from pregnancy yoga…I take the time to breathe…fully… deeply…rhythmically…I am determined to rock and breathe my way into labour - and I do.

The hospital is so busy tonight that they cant take me onto the ward till 6am…by which time I’ve  heard the first cry of six new babies…and I’m about 5cm dilated. The midwife is happy to let me get on with it. The windows are open and it’s freezing! The bed is hoiked up quite high…perfect for me to stand with my hands holding outstretched for Rob to hold from the other side of the bed as I bear down.

Whhhhhoooooooooooooooooooooooooooouuuuuuuuuuuuuuaaaaaagggh!  This sound comes from so deep within me…primal….it’s so loud, yet its not a scream….and its not coming from pain. It’s coming from somewhere so deep within me...it’s my power…my power to have my baby.

Once the contraction washes away like a wave…of sound and breath…Rob comes round to my side of the bed to push the birthing ball under my bottom. I take rest and hold out my hand for my coconut water….then it comes again.

I stand up ready: Whhhhhoooooooooooooooooooooooooooouuuuuuuuuuuuuuaaaaaagggh!…Rob holds my hands…I stay with my breath…all the while exhaling my deep sound.

Then the wave washes away, I sit on my ball, I hold out may hand, I sip my coconut water.

And so the cycle goes on and on: I hold hands with rob across the bed…bear down: Whhhhhoooooooooooooooooooooooooooouuuuuuuuuuuuuuaaaaaagggh contraction….Rob come round my side of bed…push ball under bottom…hand me coconut water……

………I’m not tired…My mind is focused...steady...calm…it’s like I’m going somewhere new but I know the way.

I must be close now as the midwife asks me to get on the bed…I climb up and get on my knees; I face the head board and hold onto the sides with my hands. I don’t want to sit on my bottom as I know this presses my tail bone making it harder for baby to come out.  I feel focused and intent on simply birthing my baby. The primal part of my brain kicks in another notch..natrural instinct…a mothers natural instinct…you have it…

The labour feels very intense now; the midwife puts a little lavender oil at the nape of my neck. It’s incredible…it’s like a lovely warm comforting blanket has been draped around me…I feel so calm and relaxed…considering I’m so close to birth!

The baby’s heart rate drops a little and the doctors are called in. They say that they will at this point intervene…..oh no… I want to do this….so I push and I push and I sigh my coconut baby out!

They pass a little bundle to me under my legs, a baby girl…my baby girl… Alaia Luisa born 10.36am on March 6th 2013.

Mother Joules's Birth Story; how Doula Paris came into the world….

Since today is my birthday I have asked Mamma Doula Paris if she would share the story of my own birth here!  

When I first began my journey into Midwifery I met an incredible and wonderful Midwife; Ruth, from the Brierley homebirth team in South London. Ruth gave me lots of valuable advice at the time, including that if I was seriously considering becoming a midwife then I should first explore my own birth. SO, this is what I did...

I quickly realised that all of the birth books that I was starting to become obsessed with - Michel Odent, Sheila Kitzenger etc - were actually the same books that my mum was inspired by whilst she was pregnant with me!

5 years on and I am now firmly of the belief that the way we are born - and our first experiences of the world -  leave no small impact on the rest of our lives.  It therefore seems no great coincidence that I was a natural birth myself and that my mum breastfed both my brother and I until we were nearly 3 . She also did what is now called 'attachment parenting' with my brother Jay and I, except the concept of attachment parenting didn't really exist back them.  This was at a time when natural birth and 'extended breastfeeding' were far from the norm! But Mother Joules stood by what she instinctively knew was good for us both, even when (many) other people told her she was Bonkers!

Since then I have spoked to hundreds of women - old and young - about their births and I am always astounded by women's ability to recall the minutest of details of this miraculous event.  They will remember the exact words spoken to them - whether cruel or kind. The food they ate, the smells, the sounds, a gentle touch, a glorious moment...the finest sensory elements of their labours and births.

So maybe tonight, or one day soon, you might want to ask your own mum about your own birth.  And you will probably be amazed by just how much detail she remembers of the agony and the ecstasy of it all!  And if you are thinking of having a baby soon I recommend enquiring about the way you were born yourself! This may be the beginning of your journey into exploring some of your own fears and feelings about Birth! Or equally reveal why you are so confident and calm about it all...

  

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9.1.2016
31 years ago today was one of the best days of my life.  My daughter, Jodi, (aka Doula Paris,) was born.
3 yrs earlier I had given birth to my son, Jamie, and whilst it was a wonderful experience and I had managed to labour with a positive attitude and without pain relief  - as I'd hoped for - it had not been the totally intervention-free birth I had dreamt of.  Deemed to be not progressing quickly enough for the medics, I was given something to, 'speed things up' and forced to lay on the bed with a monitor attached to my babies head. Not being able to move around freely and giving birth in the very unnatural and uncomfortable position of laying on my back was not my choice, but I was young, wary of questioning health professionals decisions and not brave enough to do so. 
The next time around, I was determined to arm myself with sufficient information to give me the best chance of achieving as natural a birth as possible.  I attended every antenatal class I could find and read every childbirth book I could get my hands on. I enrolled the perfect birth partner, my twin sister, Karen, (she had, in fact, witnessed one birth before, but as she was only 5 minutes old when I came into the world she couldn't remember much about it!). We are very close, she has a calming presence and I was confident that she would support me well throughout my labour and fight my corner if necessary. I wrote a detailed birth plan which Karen knew inside out and we practised breathing exercises and massage techniques together, we were good to go....bring it on...
I woke up at 6 am on the 9th of January, ( 3 days after my given due date,) with diahorreaand what I thought may be contractions. Was this the start of my labour or were the cramps being caused by the diahorrea? I wasn't sure. I decided to take a long bath, relax and watch the hypnotic movements of my very active baby wriggling in my belly. It soon became very clear that I was indeed having contractions and by the time I got out of the bath they were coming every 10 to 15 minutes. Time to call my husband, Glenn,  who was working in London at the time and get him to my parents house, 'Up North,' where I was staying and where there was mass excitement! 
I wanted to stay at home for as long as possible, so Mum put on some relaxing music, Dad busied himself making a record of the contraction times, Jamie ran around with his Masters of the Universe figures telling them that the new baby was coming soon and was bringing him their friend, 'buzz-off'  and Karen blow dried my hair, massaged my feet and cut and painted my toe nails which I hadn't been able to reach for 2 months!
By mid morning my contractions were coming every 5 minutes and my Dad was becoming very anxious that I was still at home, ( I had discussed the idea of a home birth with him some time before and he was extremely uncomfortable with this, it wasn't the, 'norm,' at the time and everyone had been led to believe that it was much safer for babies to be born in a hospital environment,) so off to the hospital we went.
Not the warmest of greetings...I was put in a side room of the maternity unit whilst my papers were foundand allocated a midwife who took one look at my birth plan, threw it down on the table and said, "Pff, you are not for me, you young ones with your new fangled ideas, I'll get you someone else!" Midwife number 2 had not attended a natural birth before, ( I did not know this until 27 years later when she approached me in a supermarket as she remembered me!)  but was pregnant herself, very open and on board with the idea and respectful of my birth plan. Off to the labour ward...
I was examined and found to be 7 cms dilated, a way to go. The birthing room was not entirely unpleasant and apart from the hospital bed and obvious apparatus, there had been some attempt to make it look more homely and less clinical; pleasantly decorated, bean bags to roll on, a music centre to play the relaxing music tapes I had prepared and a bath, which I was keen to get into immediately as by this time the contractions were coming thick and fast. 
The next couple of hours passed by exactly as I had hoped;  I relaxed on the bean bags and in the bath, walked around the room and corridors, 'in my zone,' leaning on Karen's shoulders during contractions whilst she massaged me and helped me with my breathing techniques. The midwife mostly left us to it, only popping in occasionally to check all was OK and did I really not want to just, "try,"  some gas and air?!  She informed us she was going on her coffee break and assured me I still had some time to go so would be OK. Approximately 2 minutes after she left, out of nowhere, I had the most overwhelming and almost uncontrollable urge to bear down, I got up on to the bed and adopted a semi squatting position leaning against the headboard whilst Karen went running around the other rooms in the labour ward shouting," I need a midwife now, my sister needs to push!" All were busy attending other births. Thankfully I was not aware of this! 
Panic for Karen over, the midwife returned and confirmed it was ok for me to push and I began to do so with fervour, then woosh, my waters broke, the midwife was clearly shocked as she had forgotten they had not been surgically broken as was normal hospital procedure then. A short time afterwards one gigantic push saw my baby shoot out like a rocket, " It's a girl!" Unfortunately the umbilical cord was around her neck as she descended and was cut by the midwife immediately as she was flat and blue and had to be whizzed to the resuscitation table for what seemed like forever to me, but was only moments. Then I heard a cry and my naked baby girl, (all 9lb 6ozs of her, ) was placed on my naked flabby belly, immediately rooted, then latched on to my breast and began to suckle, the most wonderful feeling in the world. 
The tears are rolling down my face as I write these last few lines and also relive in my head those first magical moments when Jamie did the same. I can still feel the emotion, joy and wonder of those times as sharply today as I did then. 
Undoubtedly the best 2 days work I have ever done. 

One Last Push: Amanda's birth story

This birth story from my 'October Sister' Amanda has had me in tears of joy and hysterics.

Amanda and I met at a running club in Middlesbrough when we were in our early teens.  We were both fiercely competitive and extremely dedicated cross-country runners, dragging our poor Dads out of bed at the crack of dawn every Sunday morning to go down to 'Foxes' woods to train.   We ran in the freezing cold, in the mud and the rain.  I remember quite vividly running until we were sometimes physically sick.  But we just kept going back for more!

Cross-country running is all about endurance: going to your edge, and then pushing the limits of what you think you are capable off.  So all in all not bad psychological preparation for birth really! It thus doesn’t surprise me that Amanda approached her births with such incredible determination and endurance. 

Below is the story of her first birth, which is both wildly funny and deeply emotive.

The absolute gold in this piece for me is what Amanda says about the support she received from the kind student midwife who assisted at her birth, and motivated her to keep going. 

Many women have similar misconceptions about student midwives, or indeed midwives who have not had children of their own, before they have experienced the incredibly compassionate care that they can give.

Many student midwives often take on the role of ‘Doula,’ providing invaluable emotional support and reassurance when accompanying a busy midwife, who’s primary focus is often on clinical assessments and documentation.

In particular, midwives in their 3rd year of studies do a ‘continuity project’ where they follow one or two women very closely throughout their pregnancy.  This can be an invaluable form of continuity and support for those women who may ordinarily not see the same midwife twice during their whole pregnancy.

If you do have the chance to have a student midwife to assist at your birth, then this is well worth considering!

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The saying “No two pregnancies are the same,” was so true for me. I had two completely different labours. 

 

My only regret is not knowning more about hypnobirthing at the time I had my babies. The ‘hypnobirther’ mums that I have spoken to since seem to have had much better birthing experiences; not necessarily less painful, but definitely more manageable.

My first pregnancy, with Megan, was really difficult.  I had a fall down the stairs at 5 weeks pregnant, severe morning sickness, a bleed at 13 weeks, Symphasis pubis dysfunction, and then Pre-Eclampsia.

I was due on the 14th December. My dad is notoriously difficulty to tie down to go Christmas shopping and so my Mam had booked in the date of the 8th December with him.  She said that the chances were that I wouldn’t give birth early; but that date was the only day that I could not go into labour.  So low and behold – on the 8th Dec at around 3am I felt the urge to wee, rushed to the loo, and my waters broke on the toilet (perfect for me not soaking my mattress, not so perfect for my Mam's shopping plans!). I didn’t really feel any contractions, so I waited until 9am to ring my Mam to let her know I was in labour.

Triage told me to come in to Hereford hospital; they gave me an internal examination to find that I was 4cms. I was having very regular contractions, but still not feeling much at that point. My parents made the long journey down from Middlesbrough expecting me to give birth that day. The contractions intensified but they were bearable. I remember the very surreal experience of the TV being on in the hospital, and witnessing a girl that I competed against at the National Running Championships winning £50,000 on ‘Deal or No deal,’ whilst I was strapped up to a monitor about to give birth (I would have quite happily swapped places with her!).

I continued having contractions but I wasn’t dilating. The amazing Midwives brought out a little mattress for my husband to sleep on - and sleep on it he bloody did!!! I however, couldn’t get a wink of sleep, due to the combination of contractions, baby kicking, nerves, and pure excitement all at once!

The next morning my little baby would appear to struggle on the monitor every time I had a contraction and so the Doctors came in and kept talking about a caesarean.  I wasn’t dilating and I was becoming really fatigued.

One of the midwives from the previous day came into the labour room and made a joke about me STILL being there and how another woman who had been in for only 30 minutes had already given birth…My response was “Well it doesn’t say much about her if her baby is falling out!” (I have since learned that every woman’s body is different and that woman who have had numerous sexual partners don’t necessarily have quicker labours…). 

They put me on the ‘drip’ to try and get me to dilate – the contractions came hard and fast, to the point that I had completely talked myself out of being able to give birth. I asked for an epidural and was given it. I felt a bit of a fraudster using such a big pain relief, but I was too fatigued to carry on. Every time I had an internal examination I felt personally invaded, and to me, that was the worst part of labour, to find that I wasn’t dilating quick enough for my liking.

I finally reached 10cms, at approximately 8.30pm on the 9th Dec, and one of the midwives at the end of her shift went out to let my parents know that I was pushing and to expect a grandchild very soon.   I remember very clearly when I started pushing.

I had always said I wouldn’t have a trainee midwife or someone that hadn’t given birth themselves to assist in my Children’s birth (but I was happy for them to learn by observing). However, here I was with the most amazing, compassionate, excited, childless student midwifeWhen it felt as though I had been pushing forever, the student midwife was kind and calm, and every time I pushed she would encourage me - I felt like I tried hard for her because of the encouragement.   The other midwife was like the Trunchbull in Matilda and kept telling me that I had to push for longer because it wasn’t doing anything – this made me want to give up.

I had an episiotomy and ended up with a Doctor, two nurses (setting up the baby resussitaire), a midwife and a student midwife all in the room. The doctor said I had been pushing for too long and so he turned to get out the forceps, which looked like a terrifying device! So I pushed one last time and my purple-blue baby came out with a cord around her neck. At 11.03pm I gave birth to my gorgeous baby girl - 44 hours after my waters had broken!! And considering everyone remarked on how big I was during pregnancy, she was a pretty small 6lbs 5oz.

The instant relief you have when you give birth is unimaginable.

I’m not a crier (most of my friends have never seen me cry) but I blubbed and blubbed like a baby. Holding my baby for the first time and placing her on my chest was something I can’t even put into words.

Whilst they stitched me up I didn’t even think about the fact that I had someone’s face pretty much in my vagina! Seeing my proud husband hold our baby was all of the pain relief I needed. Then comes the family….My Mam is quite ditzy and she just clapped with a stupid proud grin on her face because I had given birth to a baby (I’m not quite sure what she thought I would have?!)

My dad who is also not a crier, cried proud tears.

Then the rest of my family came into the labour ward and they all wanted to hold MY baby (it was hard for me to see at the time that they were all just so excited!). I had a bit of an issue with people touching my newborn, and for the first night only my husband and I held her….

 

 

Petra and Ira: A beautiful summer morning birth

I could not be happier to introduce my 'September Sister' Petra, and her wonderfully unique birth story. 

Petra is such a beautiful and poetic spirit and we have been on many a mad adventure together - grape picking in the south of France, hitch hiking around the french Alps, and many a camping 'sauvage' - we share a fond love of France, and an even fonder passion for French men!

Petra was literally MADE to be a mum (being the eldest of a large family growing up on a dairy farm in Somerset) and I am so happy to hear that her second experience of birth was more positive than the first (she sadly had a bit of a rough ride the first time round).

This is without doubt one of the most beautifully written and touching birth stories I have ever read, and it is so uniquely her own, original voice.     

Petra and I met whilst studying at SOAS over a decade ago.  We set up the first SOAS women's society there together - which I believe is still going strong today - probably more thanks to Petra than me as I bailed on SOAS in my second 4th term of studies proclaiming (probably rather arrogantly and naively at the time) that I didn't want to sit in a class studying Development Economics any more and I wanted to go out and get a REAL skill to change the world (although arguably I kind of did get a valuable skill in the end - so maybe not so naive after all?)

Anyway, here is her powerful and utterly wonderful birth story.  Thank you SO much Petra for sharing this with us.  I'm sure your words will give many other women courage, knowing that things can be different the second time round xxxx

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Ira is my second daughter, born in June this year. My first daughter, Linéa was born two and a half years ago in a stormy February. The plan with Linny was to have a homebirth using hypnobirthing and what actually happened was a pretty good example of the 'cascade of intervention' that we're all warned about. Worst of all, on reflection, was the sense of failure and guilt I was left with after Linny's birth which I was determined to not put myself through the second time regardless as to what happened. I still had vague hopes for the sort of 'positive' hypnobirth (the kind of which you can endlessly watch on youtube where a woman looks amazing and delicately pushes a baby out in their candle lit birthing pool- these women are amazing !) but tried to hold this as inspiration rather than see it as a formula to a positive birth.

I was four days past the due date when the labour began with Ira, I was lying on my bed resting after a day chasing the toddler around and an early evening walk... Despite having been through it before I still thought that it probably trapped wind. Pretty quickly it was clear that these were raging contractions (the first time I had used words like 'surge', this time I felt that semantics weren't going to soften the sensation and the word contraction actually seemed quite apt...). I took a bath and staggered around a bit but nothing seemed to ease them and soon I began to shout at my partner, my way of being able to tell that it was time to get to hospital. I had accompanied my sister through her labour earlier in the year and I recognised her in my own manic moving about the house, throwing myself at furniture for support during contractions... This time, because of the complicated arrival of Linny we had decided not to try for another homebirth but go to a midwife led birthing centre.

The first stage of labour with Linny was a gruelling two days long.  With Ira, within a couple of hours we rang the hospital and were advised to come in. Once at the hospital, abandoned, as my partner sped home again to pick up my notes we had forgotten, I was soon overcome with the intensity of the contractions and proceeded to make a lot of noise. Out and out screams. I wasn't screaming in fear and not really because of the pain, more as an outlet for it all. My position of choice was bent over the bed which was informed by the relative comfort of kneeling like this and the close proximity to the gas and air which very soon felt like a life line. I hardly moved for the next seven hours, I did some swaying with my partner which felt good but I suspected he was trying to get me to ease off on the etonox which led me to get right back over that bed again and not let go of that blessed mouthpiece until my baby had arrived.

I still find it incredible how completly consuming the experience was. I remember drumming my fingers on the wall infront of me and smacking my feet together behind me, I probably looked a bit like a seal. These two things felt like a way to shake away the pain and something that had stuck with me from hypnobirthing was 'keeping loose'. I had a lovely midwife called Jane who allowed me to get on with it and was probably wondering how long I'd be able to keep up the ear splitting screaming for. I had asked that no one use the word 'crowning' or in any way draw my attention to this bit of labour which I planned to pretend wasn't happening. I learnt that there is no way you can avoid knowing that this is happening and in fact the knowledge that my baby was almost here and the sheer strength of these moments somehow got me through this.

Ira slipped into the world at exactly 7.30 am on a beautiful summer morning. I had been expecting a boy. Everyone told me I was carrying a boy but there, passed through my legs and placed in my arms, was a chunky little girl. All blue coloured and calm. She made those amazing first cries and I was completely overwhelmed. Suddenly the room came into focus, the midwives, the strange smell of birth, my partner behind me and my baby daughter, heavy in my arms. Somehow she had squeezed herself out and now she was here. There are a few other wonderful things that stick with me : The second midwife who arrived for the birth whose hand I held during those final minutes. She seemed very motherly and I'm sure she said 'Just call me Auntie Sue', either to me or to Ira once she was born and it was just what I needed to hear after the night of labour. And of course the tea and toast. I was ravenous.

I do sometimes wonder whether having a doula would have led to a simpler outcome with Linny's birth. The support I had from my partner was invaluable and sharing these experiences with him incredible, but I think perhaps having someone else there to be supportive at the right moments and assertive when necessary might have been welcome for him too.

My experience of hypnobirthing is probably a little unorthodox. What I took from it during Linny's birth kept me very calm but with Ira's birth I think I threw my MP3 player off the bed, shouting something about 'relaxation sh*t' however I don't think I really did it justice as it was something that had helped me before. I guess that in that moment I just wanted some gas and air...

Although I do tend to over-analyse life's events, the significance of labouring and birthing a baby I think is possibly one such event that merits some pondering. I wholly believe that natural birth is best in many ways but in the instances where this is not the outcome, for whatever reason, please let us not chastise ourselves. Now my elder daughter's propensity to get stuck and take a long time to get anywhere has helped me to look back fondly on her arrival into the world, apparently characterised by her personality. Perhaps Ira will grow up to be much speedier and straightforward...

Izzy's homebirth. This is how we do it down in Dorset.

Sister of the month for August is my absolutely brilliant friend Izzy, for sharing her homebirth story with us! 

When Iz told me she was having a baby I was over the moon! When she told me she was planning a homebirth I was ecstatic!!! 

I'll let her story speak for itself...but what Iz very modestly plays down here is that when the midwife first came to check her at home, her cervix was 2cms dilated. The next time the Midwives came was when she was pushing! Iz did the whole thing at home with her mum Jan! What a woman! What a team!

It probably helped that Iz is a sturdy dairy famer's daughter and the eldest of 5! And her mum Jan, who had a couple of Homebirths herself, was undoubtedly invaluable support.

The Arundell women are a force to be reckoned with!

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When I first found out I was  pregnant, I knew that I wanted a home birth. I think this was for two reasons: being a nurse, giving birth in hospital would feel a bit like having a baby at the office. I had also experienced 3 of my siblings being born at home. I really liked the idea of being in my own environment and not hampered by the unfamiliarity and routines of a hospital ward. I could labour my way.

When I first mentioned this to Jodi, she instantly suggested that I should have an 'experienced woman' there too, as well as my boyfriend (now husband) Indi. A very well meaning chap, but you know.

So, after one false start, my mum dutifully made her way up to London on the 17:05 train from the west country, 2 hours and one gin and tonic later she arrived. This was after I told her, and the on-call midwife that I was DEFINITELY in established labour. Of course I  wasn't, but after a day and night of 'mild' contractions I was sure the baby must be ready already. And of course my boyfriend was sure this must be the case too.

When my mum Jan arrived she broke it to me gently that I had a long way to go, and things were only going to get harder. When the midwife arrived, she also confirmed this. So, when she left, it was just my boyfriend and mum to get me through the contractions, which did start to come thick and fast. I needed my mum especially, to help me to stay mentally strong. I think I can only describe it like running a marathon... You just have to keep going.

Being at home allowed me to rely on all of the things I would usually do when my body is under strain; have the odd shower, and A LOT of pacing. Being in my own environment somehow gave me the confidence to follow my body. The midwife was very keen for me to have a rest- but I just felt that in order to cope with the contractions I needed to be upright and walking round.

So, the night progressed. My boyfriend Indi scoffed a lot of twiglets then had a long nap. My mum stayed dutifully at my side. I had the space to really focus on the contractions. Of course, there were moments which needed sheer endurance, but luckily I had the support to do that.

My waters broke (though I hardly noticed) in the early hours of the morning and contractions became more intense. By 8 am I was ready to deliver. Two midwives and a student came to support me, just when we needed that fresh energy. They coached me through the delivery, and after a couple of hours an 8 pound Henry was born!

Being at home, we could all snuggle up on the sofa with cups of tea, and focus on getting Henry to breast feed. I couldn't believe how 'normal' everything felt- I could fully relax and bond with my baby.

I was really lucky to be able to give birth where I felt most secure, and for lots of people this security comes from being in a more medical environment, ie a hospital or birth centre. And its absolutely right that they should labour there. I think the most important thing is to have the right emotional support whilst in labour, from the immediate people around you, whether that's a doula/mother/partner.

Kirsty and Flynn: A true northerner’s birth story!

This month's sister of the month goes to my childhood friend Kirsty 'Bartlett' for sending me her amazing birth story.

I have known Kirsty, for more than half of my human years, she is one of my oldest friends.  We first met through our love of riding (horses!) when we were 11 years old and I loaned my first pony ‘Dusty’ from her, or ‘Dustbowl,’ as we called him.  I also went to my first ever Yoga class! with her, aged 15, at our local David Llyods Gym!

I love this story and I love Kirsty for approaching her birth so positively and bravely. I can very vividly imagine her roaring at the Midwives and hurling the gas&air across the room!  An incredibly moving story, from an incredibly strong woman.

Deeply personal and witty, her story importantly reminds us that it’s not just about the end result (in many peoples eyes she had the ‘perfect,’ ‘normal,’ birth, with minimal intervention) but also about the birth experience and the way in which care is given.

It clearly highlights the importance of continuity of care, and that having an experienced, supportive, and reassuring Doula, would have made a big difference to her.

“I just needed someone to hold my hand and tell me it was normal and to keep breathing.  What I needed was a calming influence; a gentle voice guiding me through each wave of increasingly intense pain, and that was not there.”

Thanks for sharing Kirst! You're a total hero xxxx

Hi! I’m Kirsty, I'm 30, and I am writing this in shifts that coincide with the napping pattern of my now 8-month old son, Flynn.  My pregnancy was not planned, and it really upturned the 5 year plan I once had, but despite a jittery start I had an uncomplicated, and low risk pregnancy.

My birth plan was 'there is no plan.' Take it as it comes. I didn't rule anything in or out, but I had secretly wanted a water birth. I didn’t fix my hopes on anything in particular.

It is now 8 months since the birth of my son, Flynn. I shall try and reflect with as much clarity and honesty as possibly. It is true what they say; as time passes you do remember the pain and events very differently.

 OK... hear we go, and breath.

In the early hours of a Tuesday morning I was in bed, already not sleeping (due to heart burn, cramp, insomnia, general discomfort EVERYWHERE, I know I'm preaching to the choir here). It started with a deep ache in my lower back, which is exactly how I feel when my period is starting. It was very early hours and I just knew that my body was gearing up to evict this overdue baby.

I was kind to my husband (Nigel) and didn't wake him. I just tried to rest and waited for the aches to come and go and spread around to the front. Then much to my dismay it stopped! I had high hopes of popping this baby out by lunch and being home for dinner. I was clearly delusional!

 Wednesday morning came and I was still having the odd twinge and ache on-and-off but nothing worth shouting about. My husband went to work and I got on with my latest neurotic nesting project: scrubbing the bathroom floor, with a toothbrush, oh and I got the razor out for a bit of de-fuzzing, in hopeful anticipation.

I was booked in to have a sweep that day as I was term + 3 days. I drove myself to the doctors whilst having hot flushes and road rage, and waddled like an obese toddler, to see my lovely midwife.

I had been dreading 'the sweep' more than the birth for the last 40 weeks but in actual fact it was in no way as horrible as I has expected. Getting on and off the examination couch was more uncomfortable. It did reveal that fantastically I was already 1cm dilated and in early labour. Time to get this party started....

Back at home, life went on as normal with the aches and not-quite pains continuing with no real pattern, but becoming more noticeable. I was waiting for a sudden gush of water, which never came. I went for a walk and re-packed my hospital bag... for the millionth time. 

The Thursday morning brought actual contractions (yeahhyy!). I took up residence on my birthing ball and started bouncing, rocking and doing figures of 8, if I could have wiggled this baby out I would have.

I wanted to stay at home for as long as possible as it had been promoted to me as being the 'best' option (at one of the antenatal classes I went to – I only had 2). 7cm was my goal for when I wanted to arrive at hospital. I spoke to the hospital 3 times before I finally thought I couldn't hold onto the doorframe any longer and the pain was changing, becoming very real. At this point although very tired I was excited and happy, we even managed to have a laugh in the car on the way to the hospital, in between what were now back-braking contractions.

 My experience changed rapidly from the point I walked through the doors of the labour ward, and to this day I feel very negatively about my birth experience. I don't want to scare or discourage anyone reading this, it is my story and my experience and simply the truth about how I feel and felt.

I was 8cm dilated by the time I was examined in the birth suite (a wonderful room painted in pastel colours, blue lit-up corridors, flowers on the wall, Michael bubble pre-programed into the CD player and a massive birth pool. So far the 'non-plan birth plan' was right on track.

Unfortunately I did not get to use this blissful room. The initial examination broke my waters and we discovered that Flynn had poo'd inside me (Jodi insert medical term! – “passed meconium” says Jodi!). This meant that I was shuffled through a set of double doors out the lovely, oh so lovely, birth suite and into a very clinical labour room. I was hooked up to CTG monitors above and below my bump and told to get in bed basically. It was at this point that the pain of my contractions started to become increasingly intense. All I could think was that the monitors were the cause of this increased pain (rational thought left the building a while ago!) I protested (not very peacefully) through the contractions and they finally took the lower monitor off and put a wire inside me onto Flynn's head. On reflection I felt quite bad about this as he had what looked like a cigarette burn on his head for about a week. It was at this point I felt that I lost control of my birth experience. Up until this point I was very positive, calm and embracing of the situation.

My husband, Nigel, pointed out that the numbers on the little monitor was basically showing my contractions and when the numbers went up I was in for it! This was the worst thing that I could have been told. Being able to see your pain in numerical form rising through 60...70...80....OMG I think my spine is being snapped! I managed to somehow get onto a birth ball. I was offered gas&air, which I gladly took but after one drag I managed to pull the nozzle off the end of the tube so the whole thing got launched across the room.

So, to my own amazement, and like a true northerner I did the whole thing without any pain relief.  I was a very angry pregnant lady ALL the way through my pregnancy and my anger seemed to have reached boiling point; it’s possibly my anger that got me through without pain relief.

Joking aside, pain relief just didn't occur to me and after the gas&air incident I don't think they dare try and give it back to me.

I was very insular and couldn't even handle Nigel touching me other than to hold me up. I didn’t want patting, rubbing or massaging. He was allowed to wet a cold towel for my forehead and that's as far as his responsibilities went. Poor man.

Even if I sat here thinking for days and day I could not fully articulate the feelings, both physical and emotional, in the final stages of labour. I think every individual will experience it differently. All I can say is that I was in no way prepared for the way it felt. Apparently, I repeatedly shouted at the midwife ''just tell me what the f**k to do?' as I lay on the bed not able to take control of my body.

I felt very alone and powerless; I just wanted to move into a position that would make a difference. On reflection there was little anyone could have done for me really; I just needed someone to hold my hand and tell me it was normal and to keep breathing. I do not want to go into a spiral of regret about the care I feel I received in the final stages of labour. What I needed was a calming influence; a gentle voice guiding me through each wave of increasingly intense pain, and that was not there.  I should have had my Jodi there with me.

As there was risk involved in the birth/to Flynn there seemed to be a troop of doctors who appeared for a meeting in my room to discuss what happens when he is born. I tried to listen to what they were saying, however in my very confused brain I thought they basically told me that they would come back in 5 hours and see if I was still in labour...I demanded an epidural instantly! About 40 minutes later Flynn was born.

The 'pushing' part was a relief and there were moments of clarity and calmness between contractions. 37 minutes and he was out, all 8lb 14oz of him (yes, it still makes me wince a little). To add to the urgency when he was born the cord was around his neck and he was whisked off to the little baby unit in the corner (It’s called a Resuscitaire says Jodi!) to be checked over and have his airways hoovered. He was squorking within moments. Nigel was the first to hold him.  He was born at 10.47pm and we had arrived at the hospital at 7pm.

The next 4 hours we spent in the delivery room and it consisted of having my vagina darned back together (my Midwife was also a seamstress (somehow reassuring, whilst looking at your toes in stirrups). We got a very close-up guided tour of the placenta (apparently it had a rare 2nd chamber? I really didn’t need to know, let alone see it). Then the most grotesque, uncomfortable, horror-show of a shower you can imagine...

The highlight of the night (second to having a baby obviously!) was the jam and toast. It was better than any drug they could have ever offered me, and the sugar rush saw me though the next 8 hours.

Having been through my birth experience I can understand why people opt for home births. I am not planning on having more children but if I ever do I would not hesitate to have a homebirth, in fact, I would insist. Knowing my environment, having familiarity and a sense of control, in a safe place would have transformed my experience. The care that I received at home and in the community was excellent. The 2 midwifes I had for all my antenatal care (Julia and Trudy) and the first midwife that visited me at home postnatally, were like a breath of fresh air and gave me hope that I was going to be okay. I would have done anything possible for my antenatal Midwives to have been at the delivery.

I went into my pregnancy and birth thinking that I will take things as they come, my body is built for this and there is no need to over-prepare.  In hindsight, I possibly underprepared; the birth and the first couple of months were a serious shock to the system. To contradict myself I stand by the fact that there is nothing anyone could have said, done or written, to really prepare me for what my body would go through. You will be warned that one born every minute is not in anyway a valid source of information: never a truer word has been spoken. For a start the babies on the TV don't look like aliens. 

As a side note, we arrived at hospital apparently in the middle of shift change over and this seemed to have a series of knock-on effects. They made us wait in a waiting room for about 15 minutes as they had no idea we were coming! I had spoken to the hospital 3 times before we set off. The midwife who took us to the birth suite was rather rude and when I said that I hoped I was 7cm dilated as we had waited so long at home, before coming to the hospital, she abruptly told me that if I was then they might not have a room ready in time for me. She was our first face at the hospital and she made me want to get in the car and go home. She implied that I might not have a choice. I saw about 4 midwifes in the space of the next 20 minutes and they lost my notes between the birth suite and the labour ward so if I told one person my full pregnancy history, I told everyone in the hospital. I had no time to build even the slightest of bonds with the midwife who delivered Flynn and this was the ultimate drawback.

I feel honoured to be a mother and my facebook friends don't half know it: I am a regular baby spammer.  The love you have for your very own mini-me consumes your life, the love you have grows everyday alongside of them. The first moments are unique and magical and it is the start of the most rewarding unconditional relationship you will ever be part of.