Nadene’s Home Birth Story 2

I haven’t felt the same enthusiasm to put pen to paper for this birth story, but I feel like I owe it to my daughter, and to myself, to preserve the memory before more time passes. I’m now 14 months postpartum, which makes the birth feel like an eternity ago and has softened both the pain and the memory of it. I always believed birth had a huge psychological aspect, but this experience really proved it.

By textbook standards, this was an almost straightforward birth. Nothing like my son’s labour, but somehow… it was so much harder. I still regard it as a positive home birth, as my main aim was to have a physiological birth at home, with no intervention or medication – and I did just that… AGAIN.

Anyone who read my first birth story will be grateful to know this one isn’t nearly as long and is much less eventful, so I will touch on some important aspects in the pregnancy too. Having learnt so much about my body from my first experience, and after having multiple miscarriages, I knew exactly what I needed to do to fall pregnant. I’d always wanted children close in age and had a dream of having two under two — although I’m not sure my body is thanking me for that now!

I had a very difficult breastfeeding journey with my son, but I was adamant I would make it to a year. I stopped feeding him two weeks before his first birthday, which felt like a huge victory after experiencing virtually every feeding problem possible. This included a grand finale of having to pump every feed for the last six weeks because he refused to latch. I also took the arrival of my first period as a sign that my body was telling me it was time to stop.

Like before, I followed a strict gluten-free diet and gave up high-impact exercise. Amazingly, I fell pregnant straight away, just a few days after my son’s first birthday – and this time I felt everything. Ovulation and implantation! I immediately knew I was pregnant. It was wild!

I suffered much more during the first trimester than I did in my previous pregnancy: constant nausea, insomnia, headaches, and fatigue. Straight away, I was convinced I was carrying a girl. I stuck to my original mantras of not treating pregnancy like an illness, not living off carbs, and continuing to exercise no matter how sick or tired I felt, and I truly believe that served me well.

Another challenge during this pregnancy was pelvic girdle pain, particularly around my pubic bone. It actually started shortly after the birth of my son, which is unusual, as pelvic girdle pain usually disappears after birth. Maybe due to a difficult labour and his positioning – who knows, as I’m certainly not hypermobile, which is another cause of postnatal PGP. Thankfully, the beauty of Chiropractic saw me through.

Later in pregnancy, I definitely found myself emotionally eating, and my sugar intake was higher than it should have been. I kept a close eye on my blood sugar levels using a continuous glucose monitor. Having polycystic ovaries, I’m aware that my tolerance to sugar is lower than normal and that my risk of gestational diabetes is higher. I definitely link my overindulgence in sugar during this pregnancy to having a bigger baby – 7lb 10oz compared to my first, who was 6lb 15oz. One of the risks associated with gestational diabetes is having a larger baby, which can complicate birth.

I followed a very similar routine during this pregnancy as I did with my first: weekly chiropractic treatment, acupuncture, pregnancy yoga with Ann Carroll, and strength sessions at F45 three times a week. As before, I believe all of this was vital in achieving both a fairly comfortable pregnancy and a physiological birth.

An addition to my birth preparation this time was seeing Priya Bunnell for EMDR therapy to help process some secondary trauma and rebuild my confidence around birth. This is the part I was referring to when I say birth is psychological…

A dear friend of mine lost their baby during childbirth when my son was 10 months old. Even though it didn’t happen to me, it completely rocked my world and affected me in ways I could never fully explain. There is something about baby loss that touches you on a much deeper level once you’ve had your own child, and being close to someone who experiences it. It completely turned my belief system upside down, and I later realised I had fallen out of love with childbirth – something I had once felt so deeply passionate and confident about.

I used to want every woman to experience that incredible post-birth high in its rawest, most natural form, and I would shout it from the rooftops. But that version of me had vanished, and in therapy I often referred to her as the “old me”.

Alongside the EMDR, this was also why we decided to have our doula, Sinead, join us again as part of my birth team. I felt like I needed the emotional support throughout the end of pregnancy and birth itself. Most of our prenatal sessions became counselling sessions where I could offload. I do think the EMDR helped, but it’s hard to completely erase an experience from your memory. I believe it still played a part during the birth.

Before moving on to the birth itself, I want to reassure you that I have fallen in love with birth again after supporting my dear friend through her next birth. It was one of the most amazing experiences of my life and such an honour to be invited into that birth space to support them as a trusted friend. It was a truly healing experience for everyone involved, and I left with the same high I felt after having my first – a feeling I sadly lacked after this birth. Many people have said I may have found a calling, but for now, I’ll stick to Chiropractic.

On Saturday 15th March, I was 39+3 weeks pregnant. I had stopped treating two weeks earlier and, quite frankly, was loving the time to myself. My babies never seem to let me have more than two weeks off before gracing me with their arrival. My cooking time must be somewhere between 39–40 weeks.

Earlier that day, I’d been at the home birth group over lunch at Cheltenham Hospital, run by NHS midwives. I had been a regular attendee since the birth of my son. I wanted to go one last time to fill up my confidence cup before labour began. It had become a place that temporarily reconnected me with my love and passion for physiological birth. Somehow, sharing my own home birth experience and offering advice to parents-to-be, always reminded me of my old self and the bulletproof confidence I used to have. It felt like exactly the kind of positive energy I needed with labour approaching. Little did I know how well it would work!

The oxytocin must have really kicked in listening to beautiful home birth stories and seeing all the scrummy newborn babies. As I was leaving, I thought I’d better use the toilet before walking home. To my surprise, I found a bloody show in my underwear. I was completely shocked – and then amused by the irony that my first sign of labour had happened in a hospital. The exact place I didn’t want to give birth in. Ha!

While sitting on the loo contemplating how life was about to change overnight (again), I texted the midwife from the home birth group (Oli), to tell her I was downstairs in the hospital toilet having my first pre-labour sign. What were the chances?! As I walked home, I phoned JJ to let him know what had happened and told him, “Tonight’s the night.” I was already having very mild tightenings during the walk and was surprised by how quickly they had started.

I had been so disorganised with my first pregnancy that I barely had anything ready, fully expecting to go to 42 weeks and beyond. This time, I was much more prepared, knowing second babies can arrive earlier. I also wasn’t going to ignore the early labour signs, so once I got home, JJ headed to the shops to grab a few last bits.

As soon as I got home, I went to the toilet again and found more of a show. At that point, I thought it was best to give everyone the heads-up that things would probably start that night. I texted the doula, my midwife, and my in-laws, who were on standby to have my son if labour carried into the morning.

The rest of the afternoon felt surreal – just waiting for things to properly begin at any moment. It was a lovely day, so we went for a walk around the neighbourhood, ate some delicious home-cooked food, watched the rugby, and snuggled up with my cat on the sofa.

I had some mild cramping during the evening, but nothing major. Knowing how important sleep would be for sustaining labour, I was in bed by 10pm after taking one final bump photo.

Right on cue, contractions woke me at the hormonal hour of 3am. I remember feeling on edge, unsure when to make the call. I’d been warned not to leave it too late with it being my second birth, as second babies often arrive much quicker. But I was also conscious that we’d probably called the midwife too early the first time, which meant they had to swap after 12 hours. I didn’t want that happening again.

Contractions ramped up very quickly and within an hour I was in established labour according to the Freya app. Timing contractions on the app actually became an anchor to focus on. I found it harder to fully tune out and go inwards, but concentrating on the timings gave me something practical to do.

At 4am, we called my doula and the midwife. Even though I had already messaged Kate and Oli earlier that evening to let them know things were moving, I still felt like I should call officially rather than exploit having their personal numbers. So, we rang triage at Gloucester Royal to let them know I was in labour and planning a home birth. That’s when we were told I would have to come into hospital because there were no midwives available for home births that night. What a shock – especially when we knew it wasn’t true! We told them we wouldn’t be coming into hospital and that they needed to call Oli, who we knew was on call. I didn’t panic, but it definitely threw me. I found it funny that I got to use the bit of advice I gave pregnant couples at the home birth group if told there were no midwives – refuse to go to hospital so they’d have to find you someone!

Not really knowing what to do, but message Oli on Instagram (god knows why I didn’t text/call her or Kate). It wasn’t too long before triage called back to say a midwife had checked my notes and seen a highlighted note instructing them to call Kate when I was in labour, even if she wasn’t on call. Kate was on her way!! Phew. A huge sense of relief washed over me knowing the same amazing midwife from my first birth would be there again.

I really wish I’d eaten something substantial at this point, but it didn’t feel necessary when it felt like I’d only just eaten dinner a few hours ago and wishfully thinking the birth wouldn’t take long. Silly me. Disappointed I completely broke my own rule about eating a proper meal at the beginning of labour.

I was still upstairs in the bedroom when Sinead, our doula, arrived around 5am, with Kate arriving shortly after. Contractions already felt intense and it wasn’t long before I felt I needed to move downstairs to the living room, where I wanted to give birth. Having all my babies born in the same room feels strangely romantic – and it was also the best place for the pool.

I actually didn’t feel any desire to use the pool this time. It hadn’t worked out the way I’d hoped in my first labour, and I worried it had contributed to my contractions slowing down. I didn’t want the same thing to happen again. JJ asked several times if he should start setting it up, but I kept saying no.

Before heading downstairs, I decided to make one final trip upstairs to use the “sophisticated toilet”, with the hope climbing the stairs and sitting on the dilation station might speed things up. It was still our only functioning toilet in the house and, much to everyone’s horror, we still didn’t have a handrail – not ideal when you’re having contractions on a spiral staircase with nothing to hold onto!

Once downstairs, I settled onto the mattress topper we had laid out on the floor and resumed my favourite labour position: lying on my side. I hated standing and couldn’t bear sitting. Even though labour had just begun, I felt the need to rest, which probably should have been my sign that I was lacking energy and needed food! I constantly felt like I needed a wee. Looking back, I wonder if I had a UTI because I really didn’t feel well for the rest of labour.

I’d had this idealistic vision that my son would sleep through labour and wake up just after the baby was born, joining us in the living room. Unsurprisingly, that’s not how it worked out. Thankfully, we had a backup plan with my in-laws. We texted them at the same time we called the doula and midwife, asking if they could come around 6:30–7am when he’d normally wake up.

My son is usually an incredible sleeper and barely wakes in the night, often sleeping until 7am… but not tonight. Bloody typical. He woke before then, probably because of all the commotion downstairs with Kate and Sinead arriving and me stomping up and down the stairs. JJ went to settle him but didn’t want to leave me for too long. Assuming he wouldn’t go back to sleep, he brought him downstairs to join us in the living room.

Bless him, he was as good as gold, and it was actually lovely having him there. Thankfully, I was still in the quieter phase of labour, resting and trying to doze between contractions. Although the poor little guy – only 20 months old – stared at me in complete shock the entire time. My body must have known he was there because I never fully relaxed. Shortly after JJ’s dad collected him at 6:30am, my contractions changed and I felt that urge to bear down and push.

My first labour had felt very manageable until the final 30 minutes. This was different – very different. MUCH more intense. I still had the same back pain as before, but I felt reassured by the fact I could also feel pain in my bump, which lulled me into a false sense of security that baby wasn’t back-to-back this time.

I was on my feet, bent over the sofa arm, when I must have transitioned. I remember really struggling with the pain and feeling completely shocked by how much stronger it was compared to before. I kept muttering, “I don’t know… I don’t know,” which made absolutely no sense to JJ. Even though I wasn’t fully aware of what I was saying out loud, I remember having this constant internal battle with myself – desperately wanting to be taken to hospital for a C-section. For anyone who knows me, that would have been my absolute worst nightmare. I think the “I don’t know” was the outcome of some argument I was having with myself about this change of heart.

At this point, we were discussing whether I needed the pool after all. I felt desperate for something to help. JJ was pressuring me to make a decision, because setting it up wasn’t exactly quick. I can’t remember exactly what Kate said, but I remember her tone implying there wouldn’t be enough time for the pool before baby arrived. I think they started setting it up mostly to appease me. Ironically, I made it into the pool with plenty of time to spare – around 2.5–3 hours in fact, with multiple temperature top-ups required! I wish Kate had been right and I hadn’t needed it.

The pool gave instant relief, and we’d learnt from last time to add more padding underneath it. A mattress topper worked perfectly. Highly recommend for saving your knees. I spent the first hour kneeling and leaning over the edge, trying to rest. I was occasionally fed grapes and topped up with Lucozade Sport, but it definitely wasn’t enough. I felt incredibly weak. Between contractions and pushes, I had muscle tremors and couldn’t regulate my temperature. Boiling hot after a contraction to shivering cold after. From around 6am onwards, everyone thought the birth was imminent, so it never seemed like the right time to stop and eat properly.

The contractions were relentless and I knew I didn’t have much energy left. There was no way I could sustain the kind of labour I had with my first. 14 hours of pushing!! Not a chance. I’d been pushing for some time now, but not 10/10 pushing I had experienced at the end. Deep down, I had this innate feeling I was going to have to force this baby out AGAIN – and they weren’t in the optimal position. Clearly, I don’t make babies who position themselves properly. No calm breathing out or gentle ejection reflex for me.

So, I got into “my” birth position and dug deep for the same pushing power I’d found during my first birth. The problem was figuring out how to make that work in the pool, where the walls moved and there was nothing solid to brace against. I ended up slightly reclined with my legs raised in a suspended squat position. Every time I tried to push against the pool walls, they just moved beneath me and water spilled over the side.

This is when I started pushing as hard as I physically could. I genuinely felt like my eyes were going to bulge out of my head. The roar that accompanied every push was absolutely feral. I felt sorry for the neighbours. I later found out a friend had walked past our house heading into town around this time and could hear me from the road! How embarrassing.

During one big forceful push – POP – my waters went. What a relief, another sign I was making progress. The pressure of the water brushing past my thighs was how I realised. After a quick check in the pool with a torch by the midwife, it was onto the next contraction.

The pain was wild. I remember repeatedly telling myself I was never, ever doing this again. I’m astonished that despite this labour feeling 100 times harder than my first, I never had any pain relief again. I somehow didn’t even ask for it. Near the end, the pain in my back became so intense it felt like it was going to explode… and then it just never stopped. For around 30 minutes there was no break between contractions – just nonstop pain and constant surges, which was likely the extra rotation needed to push out a back-to-back baby.

What amazed me most was how much I could actually feel. During my first labour, I never felt any baby movement, probably because I had an anterior placenta. This time, I could feel everything, and strangely, that was what kept me going. Feeling the baby move down the birth canal was enough motivation to keep pushing, knowing the end was achievable.

Something else that helped, although I completely misinterpreted it – was JJ rolling up his sleeves. He was kneeling directly in front of me, and I assumed it meant he could see the baby’s head crowning and was preparing to catch them. He later told me that wasn’t the case at all and that by the time the baby was actually born, he was beside me, so it certainly wasn’t imminent.

Apart from the screams during the second half of pushing, I barely spoke or made much noise. Internally though, there was a constant dialogue running through my head. I found it much harder to fully go inwards and let go during this birth. I couldn’t stay connected to my visualisation of the horizon over the sea with the sun rising and the thought of meeting my baby. Instead, I stayed very conscious, alert, and present throughout. During Sebby’s birth, I had been blissfully away with the fairies, and I truly believe that made the pain far more bearable.

Amidst all the horrendous imploding back pain and roaring through contractions, the ring of fire finally started – which at least meant we were near the end. After every push, my legs trembled. I genuinely had nothing left in the tank.

Then, with what felt like the millionth forceful push… the head was out! Thank the Lord. The unbearable pain finally paused and I got a break, but panic quickly replaced it because suddenly I had no idea what came next. I was sitting in the birth pool with my baby’s head out and then… nothing. No contractions. No pain that I’d become so accustomed to.

I remember asking out loud, “What am I waiting for?”. JJ was also slightly concerned about the baby being underwater but didn’t want to alarm me by saying it aloud. Kate later reassured him that the baby had spent nine months in fluid and was perfectly fine underwater.

The baby was moving whilst the head was out, which was both bizarre and amazing in hindsight. I regret not reaching down to feel the head. I’m not sure why I never do – I think I’m always too scared. During my first labour, I worried I’d feel disappointed by how little of the head might be visible compared to what I imagined.

This pause felt like an eternity, but in reality, was only around a minute and a half. It was the biggest break I’d had in a long time, but all I wanted was for the next contraction to come so I could finally meet my baby AND get this done and over with. I kept asking where it was, while everyone in the room reassured me it was building. It felt like it was never going to come.

Somehow, during those 90 seconds, I discovered that arching my back could trigger a contraction, so I essentially “forced” one by positioning myself that way. Three more enormous roars later, the rest of the body slipped out at 11:18am. I scooped the baby up onto my chest. At that point, I still didn’t know the sex. I hadn’t seen anything as I lifted them up, but after a little cuddle I had a look. It was hard to tell at first because everything looked swollen, but then we realised… she was a girl! I knew it.

She was covered in vernix and had some hair compared to my son. If you believe in old wives’ tales, maybe that explains the reflux I had during pregnancy. Then I announced to everyone that her name was Ophelia.

I was in utter disbelief at how unbelievably hard that birth had been. Give me my son’s long, “complicated” birth over that any day of the week. How this birth could be considered more straightforward by textbook standards – no hiccups, no intervention – yet feel 100% harder in terms of pain and intensity, I’ll never fully understand. The entire time I kept telling myself, “I am never doing this again.” Not a chance. By far the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Even after she was born, my mindset was exactly the same. I couldn’t imagine ever going through that again. And yet now, with time passed and the memory of the pain softened… I often catch myself daydreaming about having a third. Yes, I’m clearly nuts.

I couldn’t fully relax in the pool afterwards because I was paranoid about the placenta coming out and being ruined for encapsulation. The cord was also quite short, so I couldn’t properly get her onto my chest with her face far enough away from the water. Amazingly though, I was able to feed her while still in the pool. She latched instantly and easily – what a contrast to Sebby.

I asked to get out and move onto the sofa, where I continued cuddling and feeding her. A calm transition into the third stage of labour had been an important part of my birth plan this time. I’d had a retained placenta during my first birth and had wondered whether the excitement and commotion after finally delivering Sebby had disrupted the birth space and interrupted the hormonal process needed to deliver the placenta naturally.

 

I had also opted for a lotus birth, where the placenta remains attached to the baby after birth. This was mostly to avoid any pressure to cut the cord quickly. It didn’t take long before I started getting contractions again – surprisingly strong ones too. Honestly, they felt like labour all over again. I was helped to stand with a bucket underneath me and, after a couple of strong pushes… plop. Out it came. Then JJ had the privilege of cutting the cord again.

Towards the end of labour, a second midwife called Harriet arrived. I later found out she was pregnant herself and expecting a little girl. She told me she had been planning a home birth but hadn’t attended one in a long time and had started doubting her choice. She said watching my birth inspired her again, having cried when Ophelia was born.

The rest of the day was everything I had always imagined a home birth should be – something I didn’t quite get to experience the first time round. Amazing home-cooked food, a lovely shower, and newborn cuddles in my own bed. All by 3pm. Then Sebby came home at 5:30pm to meet his baby sister, and her family nickname “Riri” was officially born too.

It has taken me a long time to process this experience. It wasn’t the easy second birth I had been “promised” or expected. Overall, it was much shorter than my first – 8.5 hours from start to finish – but my God, I was not expecting another long pushing phase. Time becomes so distorted during labour, but considering I spent around 2.5 hours in the pool and had already been bearing down before even getting in… that was a long one. My babies clearly don’t want to get into optimal position and give me an easier ride.

Psychologically, I went into this birth as a very different person. I carried more fear and less trust in my instincts. I genuinely believe that was why the experience felt so much harder and more painful. I lacked the bulletproof confidence I once had and struggled to fully retreat inwards and shut out the outside world. If I ever get the chance and privilege to do this again, I hope I find the old version of myself once more.

At the time of writing this, home births are currently suspended in Gloucestershire, which is such a shame. Women should have the right to choose where they give birth, especially when research suggests home birth can be one of the safest options for many women. We have a severe shortage of midwives in Gloucestershire due to lack of funding and resources. Cheltenham Birth Unit remains closed, and Stroud Birth Unit is now facing proposals to “share” midwives between both birth units and home births, meaning birth choices may simply come down to luck on the day. That uncertainty only adds more stress for mothers and will not improve birth outcomes. Instead, the entire county is being funnelled into Gloucester Royal, which has a shocking 50%+ C-section rate. Birth does not need this level of interference. So often, intervention leads to more intervention through the cascade effect.

So, if you’ve been inspired by either of my positive birth stories and feel passionate about achieving a physiological birth, I urge you to read. Starting with my pre-birth blog is a great place to begin, as I share many of the key research sources, books, podcasts, and social media accounts that helped give me the knowledge and confidence that were right for me and my babies. Happy reading!