The downstairs bathroom in my mum's house has a small window that opens into her garden. One sunny Sunday, in-between mild contractions, I held the top of the plastic shower head that was poking through the window. Somehow the warm water was making it into the paddling pool that was underneath. Every time I felt a contraction coming I raised my voice through the open window and said "Hold on!" My husband, Armin, knew what that meant, even though he couldn't see me. He would momentarily turn the bathroom tap off and wait as I saw the contraction through with the box breathing technique that I had learnt in my Rise and Glow hypnobirthing class. This carried on until the paddling pool was full and our boys were contentedly splashing each other. About 30 hours later, I would give birth in our house, in my bedroom just above an empty birth pool.
My contractions started about two weeks before I gave birth. Call it Braxton Hicks, prodromal labour or the repositioning of an awkwardly lying baby. Something was happening! It was not painful so I believe my body was working to get my baby into position and, as I was a "VBAC-mum-to-be", I also believe that my body was gently loosening the parts of my scar that needed to be loosened. In labour week one, I had three days in a row of these contractions between 7pm and 11pm, roughly every 20 to 30 minutes. Then they would stop until the next evening. In week two, the same contraction pattern happened for four days in a row, from Tuesday to Friday. On the Saturday, my due date, the contractions started in the morning, around 7am. I considered staying home, but I had deliberately booked Armin and I into an intimate birth event run by Carmen Rocha and Kemi Johnson. It was a two-hour drive away, but fortunately Carmen is as cool as a cucumber and a VBAC mum herself. Furthermore, Kemi had actually practiced as a midwife and had supported vast amounts of out-of-hospital births. If baby decided to come, we'd certainly be in good hands. Naturally though, I Googled the closest hospital to the venue and packed a small suitcase of overnight essentials. Just in case.
I was contracting irregularly for the whole day. I paid little attention to the frequency because I was happily distracted by the workshop content and people. When the contractions came I took a moment to close my eyes and moved my head along my imaginary box as I breathed. I distinctly remember feeling the need to change position often and be upright, so it was a blessing to be in the company of an understanding group. My mind was also put to rest at this event because earlier in the week (five days before baby arrived) there was one morning when I felt two trickles. I was convinced it was my waters breaking, even though the experience was very different from the soap-opera-worthy gushes I had hours before my previous two caesareans. During one of the workshop breaks I mentioned the trickling to Kemi and she said, because the waters had not leaked since then, there was a possibility that it was cervical waters rather than amniotic fluid.
After the further three or so contractions I had on the drive back home, I had no more contractions that evening. The next day I felt a surge in my energy levels, so I pulled the paddling pool from the shed and cleaned it while Armin mowed the lawn. Though my body was still contracting in a pattern that was similar to the previous day, I wanted us to go to my mum's house and give the boys the paddling pool experience that they would have had if they were at home on such a scorching day. We made the 40 minute drive with some contractions, but no drama, helped them have their fun, then packed up the paddling pool and went to collect my aunty Isatu (retired midwife), who had said she was available to stay over at ours when we thought the baby was coming. Around 8pm that evening the contractions were getting a lot stronger, so we messaged my best friend, Zoie, who had also been waiting for the call. She arrived about 9:30pm.
Just after midnight I messaged my doulas, Matiga and Sakli of Dantors Doulas, telling them that when I lay down the contractions would pretty much stop, but when I was walking around, they picked up again. An impatient can't-wait-to-meet-my-third-baby voice was very loud in my head. "Should I keep walking around to encourage baby to come, then?" I asked my doulas. They replied with good advice; it was probably best I rest because I would need the energy later. Armin and I were intimate, with the excuse that it would help the baby arrive; we knew about the helping hand that labour receives when there is further oxytocin and prostaglandins linked to sperm. We also did not worry too much about an infection risk because there was a possibility my waters had not broken.
Though it only lasted about 3 hours, I had what felt like the best sleep, before I was woken up by contractions. They were still relatively mild and far apart, so we did our adult business again (don't judge us!). Around 6am I emptied my bowels and asked Armin to let the doulas know about it because that could be a sign of my body being closer to birthing the baby. My contractions were slowly getting stronger, but we stayed upstairs with the assurance that my aunt and best friend were sleeping downstairs if we needed anything. Around 9:30am I was in the shower and Zoie set to work with comfort measures, while Armin was out getting snacks. She initially ran the hot shower up and down my back. Then I needed some counter pressure. Both the shower and the counter pressure did wonders in releasing the tension I was feeling. When the doulas arrived about 10:30am they worked as a team, taking it in turns, as one person supported me and the other set up the downstairs room I'd previously told them I might use for the birth. Zoie prepared snacks for everyone, because she knew the feeder in me would not be happy if people were not eating. At one point I was offered an essential oil that I couldn't make up my mind about, so Matiga took it away and Sakli worked on different essential oil options. When I returned the diffuser was on and whatever was in it was perfect.
As I kneeled in the shower a favourite love song came to mind, and I asked if it could be found on my playlist. Would you believe I had created three different playlists and none of them had that particular song? I couldn't remember the title, so Matiga searched for it while I sang along through tears and caressed my bump. I felt lighter as it played from her phone: Brian McKnight's "Still in Love."
Soon afterwards I was, at once, ready to get out of the shower and, equally, afraid of doing so. "How will I handle the pain if I don't have the shower?" I asked Sakli. Ever calm, she replied "Well you could always get back in if you wanted to." Somehow I had not worked that out. Or maybe I was afraid that the pressure might become too intense for me to make my way back to the bathroom. I decided to trust that the team would get me to where I needed to be.
Once out, on my way to the kitchen, I kissed aunty Isatu on the cheek as she sat on the sofa. Her simple presence was all the reassurance I needed. The tempo changed and my spirit lifted as the doulas started a Soca section with "Roll It Gal" by Alison Hinds. I did my labouring-woman version of "whining my wais" to the beat. Mid-dancing, when a contraction was coming, I'd bee-line for a table or sofa arm, hinge forward, and rest my head on my crossed arms with my butt in the air. The contractions were getting stronger, but not consistently so. It was as if every other one would flow hard through me. At another point I found myself in the transformed study-come-birth room, only able to half concentrate as Matiga suggested I put one foot up on the step that they had brought in from the bathroom. I remember finally fully noticing that my husband had been trying to nail a bedsheet to the wall, restricting the sunlight and creating a less stimulating environment. I guess we had both expected that baby would be born in the middle of the night. Deep down though, I had wanted to birth during the day, so I could have a few hours to simply enjoy the baby without falling asleep. 6:46pm, when baby was eventually born, it felt like early afternoon on that August day.
One thing that was constant throughout baby's birthday was my intention to stay relaxed. I certainly was not relaxed for my previous births, and I know that that contributed to my negative experiences. Thus, this time, every time I felt my shoulders inching towards my ears I would deliberately shake my upper body, employing the tension-release strategy that we had practiced briefly the day before at the birth workshop. What a significant golden nugget, that was. When the heavier contractions came I draped my arms around Sakli's shoulders, letting my body hang low, trying to surrender. (I must have felt soooo heavy, but she stood like the firmest tree every time). Around 1pm I started to feel what I can only describe as lost. "You can rest, you know." Sakli reminded me. Of course, I remembered. I'm home. This is not a hospital and there is no time pressure. Then, with a slight wink, Sakli suggested that Armin and I go upstairs. So we did. I can't fully remember if we actually slept, but we certainly rested. After about an hour, I got up, rested and needing to empty my bowels again. Soon Matiga was in the room feeding me what tasted like the sweetest, juiciest watermelon ever. I didn't have the energy to feed myself or hold the bottle to my mouth so the doulas helped me eat and drink.
So many people wonder about pain during labour. Despite what most might believe we hypnobirthing teachers preach, I'm going to be real with you. Despite the huge majority of my labour being totally manageable (remember the car journey and dancing?), there were three points in the last roughly three hours leading up to the birth that I found painful. The first was when I tried to get up after choosing to lie flat on the floor. I remember having a bit of a debate in my head before lying down. It is so often said that lying down is literally the worst position you can be in when giving birth. Yet I felt compelled to lie flat, because it seemed the surest way to relieve the pressure I was feeling in my lower abdomen. It felt so good to lie down, but the contraction that followed once I was helped to sit up was so strong I was shocked into speechlessness as it travelled through me. All I could do was suffer in complete silence. Once it had passed, I said to my husband and Matiga, that that was literally the worst contraction I had had so far. "Yet, you did it." Matiga said. My husband sat behind me at that point because I could not hold myself up. Then came the vomit. Matiga made it disappear twice, then, seemingly out of nowhere, handed me exactly what I needed – anti-sickness (plastic free!) chewing gum. I'd listened to enough birth stories to know that vomit equals good. There was excitement building in me, but it was subdued by me bracing myself for a pain I thought I might not be able to handle. Fortunately, that level of pain never came.
The second most painful time though, was when I was in the upstairs shower and Armin was behind me. The doulas had suggested that Armin stand behind me and hold my bump up while I was in the shower. But this time the shower was not helping. If anything, we were both in pain because the water was too hot. We've historically had a temperature control problem with that shower. I felt like my skin was burning, but I simply couldn't move and he wouldn't if I didn't. Let me be really real though. I suspect there was also some psychological block or issue happening at that point, because almost every time I use that shower room I feel tension. There's an ongoing domestic disagreement that I won't delve into because Armin cannot refute any accusations I make here!
In my mind that shower time was more painful than when baby's head was actually crowning (the third most painful part of the birth). As I knelt on the floor, damp towel placed on my back, and arms resting on the bed, I focused on my breath and tried to "let go." As the room paused after a strong contraction, I looked beyond my bed and doula, toward the window. It was open and I remember thinking, firstly, that my neighbours were definitely going to hear me. Secondly, according to a few birthworkers, it was my right to make as much noise as I needed to. I employed a sod-it approach and vocalised loudly during the peak of the last few contractions. Afterwards, the photographer said it sounded a bit like I was singing; my vocalisations changed pitch, from low to high, high to low, punctuated by contractionless pauses.
At one point, I remember being zoned in to the sensations in my body, but also being aware that Zoie was on the phone, telling Armin that baby was coming. I had not realised he had left the house, but I was later told he went to buy a hot water bottle because no one could find mine, and I had requested it when the tens machine had stopped sticking to my lower back. He arrived just in time, as baby's head was about to crown. Looking at the photograph time stamps, baby's head took one minute to come out completely and was out by 6:36pm. Ten minutes later the entire body came out. Afterwards my doulas told me that my birth was definitely the longest time they had waited for the entire body to follow the shoulders. Indeed, I remember that, eventually, I couldn't help but whisper "Can't you just pull it out?" But that was gently rejected. Everyone knew that the coveted fetal ejection was what I really wanted. My husband waited patiently the whole time, and my midwife aunty stood just behind him, gesturing silently for him to raise the body a little to relieve the pressure and prevent tearing.
Once baby was out I let out the deepest, longest groan of relief. It felt like the loudest of all my vocalisations. Armin gently popped and ripped the amniotic sac and baby let out a cry. He passed baby through my legs and I saw that it was a girl. We were semi sure about the name if it was a girl, so I started singing a song I had made up for her. Next, I wanted to breastfeed her asap, never mind that I was still on my knees. After a short attempt we put her on the towel on the floor next to me. I needed a break. "Congratulations" I heard. Without looking up I said "We still need the placenta to come." With help, baby and I went on to the bed for more nursing. Over an hour passed. I'd been trying not to feel nervous. Just as I finished asking Sakli if she had ever seen anyone's placenta come out while they were sat on the bed, I felt a movement in my abdomen, raised my left leg and a seductively warm, squelchy thing plopped out of me. It was 1 hour 10 minutes after baby's birth.
I can't remember exactly how long it was from when the placenta came out, but we were finally ready to call our homebirth midwife team. I had to stop myself from apologising for calling them after the birth. I knew deep down that if they had been called too soon, amongst other things, I might have said yes to drugs designed to make the placenta come loose in an unnatural time scale for my body. It wasn't personal. I also didn't want the pressure of someone's job on the line, as they might feel conflicted about trusting physiological birth and abiding by trust policies. Speaking of policies, when we did call them, the protocol meant that the midwives had to call the ambulance because paramedics could get to us faster than them to check me and baby.
The paramedics thought that baby was slightly cold and offered a one-time-use heat bag, which needed to be squeezed for activation. The heat bag reminded me of the handwarmers that are sometimes placed in gloves, but much bigger and uglier. In the end skin-to-skin and keeping my bedroom door closed got baby's temperature back up to where it needed to be. When the consultant midwife arrived about 10 minutes after the paramedics I was delighted, because she seemed to have only the best intentions for me, despite what I saw as some shackles of the system within which she worked. A few minutes later another homebirth midwife (who had had a VBAC too!) arrived. I declined any internal checks, no tears were found, and, after doing the deepest yoga child pose, I was eating some rice and chicken. Yes, a bit too heavy, considering I'd just given birth, but, after all that, I celebrated by feeding myself in bed.
Photo credits: Sanaa Abstrakt