Nadene’s Home Birth Story

Writing my birth story has come at a good time as Fern McCann has just been slammed for being ‘completely unrealistic’ during a recent TV show where she shared her positive home birth story. Unfortunately, we live in a society where the majority of women seem to have experienced a “traumatic” or “horrible” birth and it has come to be expected. People are only more than happy to share these types of stories with someone who is pregnant, but then appear offended if they hear a story to the contrary. I can’t count the number of times someone made a negative remark towards labour during my pregnancy and shared their “negative” birth story to scare me off having a home birth. Why is it ok for people to share their traumatic stories, but not to celebrate a positive one? What women need to hear is more positive birth experiences to empower them and fill them with confidence rather than worry, anxiety or apprehension.  

During my career, I have heard endless accounts of women feeling traumatised from their birth. Now having experienced pregnancy and childbirth myself, I am on a mission to create more positivity, empowerment and confidence in women to trust their bodies to birth the way Mother Nature intended and to feel the insane superwoman feeling, with no regrets or trauma. I feel really passionate about sharing the importance of WHY and HOW a birth outcome can differ. I firmly believe knowledge is the ONLY reason I had this birth outcome. There is usually always a reason behind a sad birth story and guess what? It’s not that your body has failed you or you were incapable of giving birth.   

So, if you are reading this as someone that has given birth and are left unhappy by the experience, I hope you read this with an open mind and that my story brings you hope and confidence to feel empowered to take control of your next birth. Question the hospital suggestions, ask why, ask for stats, ask what the risk is if you don’t follow a recommendation, ask if it’s happening now or just a potential risk. Basically, ask lots of questions and remember that EVERYTHING is a choice, and you are ALLOWED to do anything you wish. It’s your body and baby!  

My favourite bit about my birth story, is that no one can ever tell me that I was one of the “lucky ones”. My birth was not plain sailing by any means. In fact, quite the opposite. Being well read on the physiology of birth, research with actual statistics and different complications that could arise, meant I could confidently and calmly navigate my way through the hurdles as they occurred.  

Before I start, I must state a disclaimer. This blog is in no way to be used as medical advice for your own personal situation. This is just an account of my own experience and the decisions that I made based on my own research and belief system as an individual woman… who just so happens to be a Chiropractor. The decisions you make should be based on your own circumstances, research and discussions with the medical professionals in your birth team. I do feel privileged that my career has allowed me access to know what to read and to challenge the normal pathways. It has moulded my belief system to prefer natural alternatives and to trust in the innate ability for the body to know what to do. I believe there is a time and a place for medical intervention because 100% of births would not be successful if trusted completely to nature, but there are an increasing number of interventions occurring with statistically WORSE outcomes. 

So having already said quite a bit, I hope you are sat comfortably with a cuppa, as it’s obvious this is not going to be short and sweet. It’s going to be an honest account and full of TMIs. Here is my birth story and my proudest achievement EVER …  

On Wednesday 28th June I was exactly 39 weeks pregnant and hadn’t been treating for a week and a half. It was late in the night and I was propped up in bed working away on my laptop in the dark, whilst JJ was asleep next to me. That evening I had been to my wonderful weekly pregnancy yoga class but felt very alert and wired so used the time to crack on with my never-ending admin list. As I was sat there I started to feel faint, pulsing period pains in my back. They were very low level, sporadic and momentary. Fully aware what this might mean, I knew I needed to get some rest, so closed the laptop and went to sleep. I was surprised how well I slept and only felt the discomfort when I actively checked in to see if was still there, but it didn’t keep me awake. When I woke in the morning, I told JJ what I had been feeling. I explained to him that they were likely to vanish during the day due to the daylight and its effect on hormones, but things will probably ramp up again that night.  

Now this is where it becomes a bit comical. Whilst JJ was getting ready for work, he was shocked to discover he didn’t have any hot water for his shower. After some tweaking of the boiler, investigations in the basement and helpful phone calls to a plumber patient of mine (thank you), we worked out that we needed to buy a replacement part for the boiler. Obviously, all of this was less than ideal when planning a water birth at home. JJ’s lunch break task was to pop to screw fix to get the missing part.  

I messaged the gym first thing to let them know I wouldn’t be able to make the morning class because of the contractions. I decided to just carry on with my plans for the day, but I felt like going to a weightlifting class at F45, probably wasn’t the wisest idea. I met up with my friend, Ali for a dog walk around the racecourse mid-morning, who was in as much disbelief as me that I might be in early labour. Contractions had become less frequent whilst walking but seemed to return on the drive home. I went to lunch with another friend, before going to a nail appointment with my mum at 2pm. It was whilst I was at the nail salon that the contractions became more frequent and slightly more intense. I started practicing my breathing, as it had become strong enough to make me wince. I also thought it might be the right time to text my Doula with a heads up, as she was coming from Cirencester.  

I left the nail salon at 4.15pm with my mum and in hindsight I should have sent her home with the dogs then and there, as it wasn’t long before things really kicked off. Once home, I went into panic mode knowing that tonight was most likely to be THE night and the house was a STATE! I was convinced that I was going to be “late” and had psychologically prepared myself to be 2 weeks past my estimated due date. I was actually looking forward to the extra time off and had lots of plans and tasks to accomplish. The baby obviously had other plans and I was not prepared in the slightest! I quickly decided that dusting the house should not be high on the priority list, so stopped what I was doing and had a lay down on the bed. JJ messaged to say he would be a little later home, so he could finish off some bits at work knowing he wouldn’t be back in for a few weeks. I must have fallen asleep, as when JJ came in the bedroom it was around 6pm and we started timing contractions with the Freya App. They were occurring 3 every 10 minutes by this point, so it was probably time to call the midwife.  

As I stood up from the bed my waters broke with a proper gush. I was expecting more of a trickle, as had read that it isn’t as they dramatically portray in the movies. Mine was exactly like the movies! I was glad I was wearing some absorbent trousers, as I was immediately fretting about the carpet. From this point, my memory is a little hazy and I become lost in a time warp. JJ definitely started to panic. Not because I was in labour, but the time pressure of completing important tasks. He asked me what he should do first, call the midwife, call the Doula or fix the boiler. I remember shouting at him to do all 3 at once and quickly! Thanks to our amazing friends who live a few doors away for coming to the rescue. They collected the dogs to take to my parents and picked up some shopping as the fridge was completely empty … as I said, we really weren’t prepared.  

JJ rang triage and he was put through to the community midwife department who are responsible for home births, we luckily got through to Kate. I met Kate several times during a couple of antenatal appointments when my designated midwife was off. I was all prepared to put up a fight towards the resistance I assumed I would be met with regarding my birthing preferences. Kate took the time to discuss so much with me and it was really reassuring when I discovered she shared the same belief system as me, having had all three of her children at home. As Kate took the call and knew me, she decided to attend even though she was just about to clock off and go home after a full day at the hospital. I can’t believe she ended up spending 16 hours at my house! I learnt that midwives are only allowed to be on duty for 12 hours with home births, before having to switch with another. Bless Kate, as she stayed an extra 4 hours sat at my kitchen table off duty, but hopeful that there would be an arrival at any moment… Unfortunately not. 

After my waters broke, the contractions intensified pretty quickly. I was left on the bedroom floor in an adapted child’s pose breathing through the contractions, whilst frantically cancelling appointments by text and letting Gabby, our Clinic Manager, know that I was signing off and she needed to take the full reigns. JJ was down in the basement trying to fix the boiler, whilst the midwife and Doula were on their way. I remember labouring in my bedroom for quite a few hours. I spent most of the time lying down on my side with my Doula, Sinead, helping me with leg lift rotations during contractions to help open my pelvis or applying pressure on my back. All my contractions were in my back and felt like very intense period pain. I wouldn’t have been able to cope with them without hands baring down for each contraction. I did try a few other positions whilst in the bedroom, from bouncing on my birth ball to kneeling, but was most comfortable on the bed.  

Whilst mentally prepping for birth, I had planned to try and sleep between contractions, which bizarrely I was actually able to do. I knew this would be important to sustain a “long labour”, which most women tend to have with their first. The other thing I was conscious of, was refuelling. So, at about 9pm JJ went and heated up the chilli our lovely friends had purchased during the emergency food shop. Now please don’t assume I fancied eating because I absolutely did not. I felt sick at the thought of food, but I knew it was essential and therefore forced about a third of it down.  

By 10pm, I felt like I had exhausted the pain relief properties of the tens machine and asked if I could get into the pool, which was a cue for JJ to go and set it up. The midwife had only been checking on me every hour, spending the rest of the time sat quietly outside the bedroom making friends with my cat, Alfie. Good job the bookcase she was next to was the one thing I dusted in my post nails panic frenzy – HA. I consented to having my vitals checked such as blood pressure, heart rate and temperature. I also allowed her to check the babies heart rate with the Doppler at this same frequency. We had actually agreed every 30 minutes during my birth plan antenatal appointment, which was already double the recommended time, but Kate knew I wanted an uninterrupted birth and allowed for an hour in the moment, as she said things were progressing well.  

Even though Kate commented to the Doula that I was very calm and quiet, therefore it was difficult to gage exactly how far along I was, she predicted that I would have been about 8cm dilated at this time. The reason it was a prediction, is because I declined all vaginal examinations. This was something I had researched in quite some detail and the reasons I declined this type of monitoring is that it increases the risk of infection; it can be psychologically disheartening as the labouring mother to be told “you are only…3cm dilated”, when you feel you should be further along; it’s very subjective and potentially inaccurate as it can change so quickly. My last reason was learning about why the NICE guidelines recommend that it’s performed every 4 hours, because when compared to every 2 hours, it showed no difference in outcome. There hadn’t been any research completed comparing the outcomes to if none were performed, which makes absolutely no sense in my logical mind. If you would like to hear more on this I’d recommend listening to this episode from an amazing podcast called, The Midwives Caldron. 

Around 11pm, I slowly made my way downstairs to get into the birth pool that was set up in my living room. Sinead had beautifully set out fairy lights, which made it look so lovely and tranquil. This recognition was momentary before zoning out, back into my own little world using my hypnobreathing. The water felt amazing around my bump and hugely helped in taking the edge off the pain in my back. I hadn’t been in the pool long before I felt the urge to start pushing. It certainly was a sensation that I could not hold back even if I had wanted to.  

I pushed in the pool for quite some hours, spending most of the time on my knees. Again, I managed to sleep between contractions and JJ commented when we were reminiscing how out of it I looked, with eyes rolling in the back of my head. I must admit I did feel like I was on another planet. Looking back, I can thank the natural high of the oxytocin. This is something that can be experienced when the environment remains calm and undisturbed with no medical drugs involved to alter the hormonal system at play. It was honestly the best pain relief! I had to give myself a bit of an internal pep talk whilst in the pool. As I had predicted as the control freak that I am, I started to feel embarrassed about the lack of control of my bowels. I had to tell myself that it was ok, everyone (minus JJ) had seen it all before and it didn’t matter. I had to remind myself to surrender to birth and everything that came with it.  

One of the most frustrating things was that whilst in the pool, I started to feel the ring of fire. Meaning it was the beginning of the end, but this was a momentary sensation as then it was gone. Having spent hours on my knees in the pool, I was getting really uncomfortable and started changing positions. I think I was trying to find the “magic position” that was going to accelerate labour. I had been in the pool for hours and it was somehow Friday morning. They had to keep topping the pool up to keep it warm enough, as I had been in there so long. I was advised to get out of the pool as everything had stalled. Even my contractions were slowing down and spreading out, with all pressure in my backside rather than the birth canal. I had read about how a water birth is amazing for pain relief but can slow down labour. It appears this might have happened to me.  

Having spent the early hours of the morning pushing and very aware that I hadn’t experienced any of the natural descent of the baby that I had read about, I was surprised as I got out of the pool to feel my pelvic floor squeeze the baby’s head back up. I hadn’t even realised it was down until I felt it go up again. I was in disbelief and couldn’t believe I was going to have to psych myself up to start all over again. It also highlighted to me that I was having to physically push every little bit of the head down, without any natural migration and I couldn’t help but wonder why.  

I needed to rest and decided to have a lie down on the sofa. God! I have the worst sofas for giving birth on. The seats are too deep and angled back. Having shower curtains on the sofa for protection only hindered the ability to get comfortable and gain any traction to anchor on. Whilst I was here, propped up on my side, we had our one and only dodgy heart rate reading from the baby. Kate, the midwife, was so calm and suggested I changed positions as she thought it was the reason for a drop in heart rate. She sure was right! As soon as I moved, she rechecked and everything was ok again. Thankfully, throughout my birth the baby’s heart rate was fine. I do think my story might have had a different outcome if this hadn’t been the case.  

Feeling pretty deflated, we discussed whether I should try some gas and air. It was the one form of medical pain relief I was open to potentially needing, but only on my request. I asked if it would be worth trying to help me relax, thinking this might be the reason why things weren’t progressing, especially with my overactive pelvic floor muscle. Kate let me know that gas and air was likely to slow down and dampen the sensations of my contractions. That was all I needed to hear to put that idea to bed and it was never mentioned again.  

I continued to labour for a few hours, when Kate came in to tell us that they needed to change midwives as she had come to the end of her 12-hour allowance, so it must have been about 7am. The fear I felt hearing this was all consuming. I remember irrationally thinking to beg JJ that we’d pay her any amount of money for her to stay. I loved Kate and I was petrified of her leaving. I felt so safe with her. She was so calm and most importantly, she shared the same beliefs as me around birth. How would I know if the next one did, and could I trust them?! 

The next series of events are somewhat of a blur and at this point I had been actively pushing for 7-8 hours. I must have been moving about, as I remember I was standing when we discovered that I was bleeding. There happened to be white puppy pads on the floor, which helped catch it for us to assess. This occurred during the new midwifes watch and discussions were had on increasing the frequency of the Doppler to check for baby distress and also transferring into hospital due to a risk of haemorrhaging, which is when the ambulance was called by the midwives. This all seemed very over the top to me as there was a lot of fluid, but it was water fluid with some blood in, rather than lots of thick blood. I agreed to an increase in the Doppler, to every 10 minutes I believe, but the discussion for transferring was had later.  

Unfortunately, there was something about the new midwife that I just didn’t gel with. I am sure she was a perfectly lovely person and I do feel bad retrospectively, but I ended up asking her not to come back in the room. She was a much bubblier personality compared to the calm, whispering nature of Kate and I just couldn’t connect with that. She was a lot more audibly present when doing her checks and lingered with the Doppler for what felt like an eternity, as if searching for a problem. Kate used to tip toe into the room, whispered, quick in, out and then gone again. When I requested for the new midwife to not come back in, I discovered Kate was still in the kitchen. She came back in to talk and reassure me. She understood that I didn’t want the current midwife back in the room and explained that she had just called another lead midwife, Oli, who shared the same philosophy of birth and was on her way to my house. I later found out that Oli also wasn’t working and had just finished at the gym as she got the call. I did subconsciously wonder why she was in lycra shorts and a vest top, but was a little distracted at the time to fully acknowledge her attire. Kate coming back to tell me this was honestly the most reassuring thing ever, but I think by this point if she had told me there was a purple unicorn in the sky, I would have believed her. It just so happens that Oli was EXACTLY the type of midwife I envisaged having at the birth. She was the perfect combination of cool, calm and collected with a military air about her, that you just knew she could help get the job done.  

At some point, I clocked that I hadn’t peed since the very early hours of the morning when I was in the pool. I knew that a full bladder could block the pelvis and stall labour. It was now our mission to get me to pee and oh goodness me, it was a hell of a mission, as basically, I couldn’t. We tried everything! JJ trickling water from the pool, it’s only use since being made redundant hours ago. Making ssshhhing noises to mimic water flow. All whilst sat on a Porta Potti in my living room, but still…. Nothing. That was when I requested a catheter at about 10.30am, as I instinctively knew that this was stalling labour. None of the contractions where present through my vagina and it felt like every push and J-breath was wasted in my back passage. I knew something was blocking the pathway. The catheter was one of the most unpleasant things and definitely worse than labour pain. It was also the only part of labour that bothered me for months postnatally as I had a graze and UTI as a consequence, but I know it was needed. It certainly did the trick, as I was able to feel sensations in the right direction again, which I hadn’t felt since being in the pool.  

Whilst having the catheter procedure done, I had the opportunity to have a vaginal examination to assess why there might be a stall with labour. I decided against this, and I am so glad I did. There was speculation that there might be something wrong with the position of the baby, so rather than have it confirmed, we just went about trying different positions to help readjust the baby. My Doula suggested using the rebozo which is basically a cloth to help wiggle your body to help the baby move. It’s part of the Spinning babies techniques, which is also recommended during pregnancy if your baby is back to back, breach or transverse. We performed a position where I was in a kneeling/forearm downward dog with the rebozo around my bottom and pelvis, which the Doula shimmied during each contraction. I was also smelling Clary Sage on a piece of tissue paper to help ramp up my contractions again, which really did work! 

There was a moment during this phase of time where we really questioned whether I was going to be able to do this. I was questioning my body and why birth didn’t seem to be progressing. I remember looking at JJ with the saddest puppy dog eyes, asking if we were really going to get into the ambulance? I said to him, there wasn’t a chance this birth was going to happen naturally if we went. It would end in ventouse, forceps or emergency C-section. I was honestly gutted at even the thought of this. The discussion didn’t really come to a conclusion, as I somehow just carried on without any verbalisation of this.  

As I was moving around, I found a great position of being in a lunge whilst leaning on the sofa. This, along with having released my bladder and smelling the Clary Sage, I felt like things were moving again. Oli helped coach me slightly on my pushing, because it was felt that I was expelling wasted energy by not pushing the J-breath down and around the bend, but by becoming more vocal. I had been pretty quiet until now. This was where I discovered there was another level of pushing. I have to admit it was a really forced type of pushing and not one I was expecting after I had read so much about there being this natural descent. We found out later why this wasn’t the case for me. 

I was here for a couple of hours, before feeling tired and especially from being on my knees again. JJ and Sinead were so lovely as they kept putting up with my demands to reposition the towels under my knees, but all I could feel was the hard wooden floor underneath. I also felt like I couldn’t gain traction to push against something, so I came up with a great idea. I tried sitting on the edge of the sofa, but as I said before, our sofas were rubbish and too soft. Therefore, I suggested that I sat on top of JJ with my legs over his, so I could bear down on them whilst pushing my legs into the floor. This ended up being my final birthing position and certainly not one I had imagined – HA!  

Even though this was the beginning of the end…. AGAIN, we would still have more hiccups to overcome. I kept pushing and pushing and just didn’t understand why this baby’s head wasn’t coming out. I was becoming very frustrated and had been pushing for over 13 hours. Oli suggested doing some perineum massage during contractions to try and stretch the area and aid the head coming out. This was SO painful but I’m sure it helped. Around this time, I was asked if I wanted a mirror to see the head crowning. In all honesty, I was too scared to look. I was concerned that not much of the head would be visible compared to what I thought should be, causing me to be disheartened and feel like giving up.  

It’s apparent that the midwife had sussed out what sort of person I was when she started the sentence ‘Nadene, I know you aren’t going to want to hear this…’ and she was right, because I didn’t, but understood that she needed to tell me. She had seen that some meconium was coming out, which can indicate a sign of stress in the baby. She asked if she could check the baby’s heartbeat between every contraction, which I didn’t mind at this point. I knew that we were near the end, whatever that looked like. The outcome was going to be either end of the extremes, so changes to this type of birth preference felt irrelevant to me now. I continued to push at this 2nd level and had been for a few hours. My made-up birth position had progressed to having one foot pushing against Oli and the other against Sinead, whilst still using JJ’s legs to pull/push against. It’s comical looking back picturing it all.  

With the ongoing struggle, Oli asked if I would like to consider an episiotomy to release the head as it was becoming increasingly obvious that it just wasn’t coming out. I was at my wits end and didn’t know how much longer I had in me. I just wanted it to be over. An episiotomy was not in my birth plan and to be honest, I was surprised this was even an option during a home birth. I know that I would feel content knowing this was a better outcome than having to go to hospital for more aggressive interventions. I think I dithered with my answer and remember Sinead checking if it was really something I wanted to proceed with. It wasn’t what I initially wanted, but I couldn’t see another way. I was knackered! Oli said she would just get the anaesthetic ready just in case. As her and the other midwife started getting lots of bits out and prepped, something came over me to try in one last desperate attempt to get this baby out by myself. I found ANOTHER level of pushing and that’s when the Tyrannosaurus Rex entered the room. My poor neighbours! The brute force of this push was something I didn’t even know I possessed.  

FINALLY, my little baby boy entered the world at 1.37pm on Friday 30th June. Everyone was surprised once his head finally popped out. I was quickly shouted at by the midwife, who jumped back into action away from setting up the episiotomy equipment, and the Doula to stop pushing to allow a pause before the rest of his body followed. Sinead helped coach me on my breathing as I wanted to prevent severe tearing. She got me to pant/blow through pursed lips to help facilitate the ‘floppy face, floppy fanny’ theory, which is one key factor in preventing tearing. JJ was also stroking my forehead to stop me tensing my face. Before I knew it or was even aware, the rest of his body came flying out and his little, long slippery white covered body was on my chest. JJ who was still behind me, started to cry and just kept whispering in my ear that I did it. I was so shocked and overwhelmed, as I was in disbelief that I had actually done it after what felt like the biggest uphill battle for many hours. I DID IT! With no medical intervention or drugs!  

He wasn’t quite making the right noises initially, so there was a lot of back/body rubbing occurring whilst he was on me. Oli was just conscious of the meconium, aware that he might have inhaled some and wanted him to be crying or making some strong sounds to ensure it was clear from his lungs. It also become blatantly obvious what the problem had been, due to the shape of his head. He had the same suction mark and swelling as if he had been pulled out by ventouse. Oli explained that his neck would have been deflexed, so instead of entering through the crown of his head, the smallest part, he was coming through the very top, the widest. 

My birth preference was to have a physiological lotus birth, which is when the placenta is birthed still attached to the baby. The reason for wanting this was to ensure optimal cord clamping. I didn’t want it to be governed by time and stating a lotus birth, I could decide when it was cut with no pressure. Secondly, I would have loved a photo. Like the rest of the birth, this obviously couldn’t be straight forward. Looking back, I realise the calm birthing atmosphere went out the window as soon as he was born. I was so elated that he was here and I had got my dream home birth, that I forgot about everything else. Lights went on, people stopped whispering and were in and out like yoyos. This might have disturbed my hormones in birthing the placenta as it just didn’t seem to want to come out. I kept waiting for a contraction or period like pain to occur, but nothing happened. Time went fairly fast initially as I was having skin-to-skin cuddles with my baby boy. I tried to breastfeed him, but this was difficult as I couldn’t get him to open his mouth to latch, so hand expressing was suggested. This can aid the release of the placenta, along with us trying skin-to-skin contact and smelling Clary Sage. 

Two hours went by and I was feeling tethered and immobilised from being attached to the baby lying on shower curtains. Not to mention sore downstairs and globally uncomfortable with the most severe DOMs I’ve ever known. At this stage we decided to cut the cord, which JJ had the privilege of doing. It had definitely stopped pulsing and the cord was white, so I was satisfied the baby had received all the goodness from it. I could really sense the midwife, a new one after Oli had left, was starting to become irritated as I wouldn’t accept the injection as the placenta hadn’t come out yet. A midwife must stay with you for two hours after the placenta is out to make sure you don’t haemorrhage, which there was still apprehension of due to the blood in the waters during labour. To mitigate against this, I decided to dab some of the blood from the placenta into the side of my mouth. Now I know this is gross, but having read this can help prevent haemorrhaging I was prepared to do anything to stop this happening.  

Another two hours passed of trying to cough, push and wait for this placenta to exit. I was desperate for a shower as I felt beyond disgusting and was covered in blood and just hanging out in my living room with no pants on. I felt I needed to use gravity as I had been lounging on the sofa. The midwife agreed to cut the cord a bit but was frightened to do too much in case she needed to pull on it with an assisted delivery. She helped me put a pad and pants on and escorted me up the stairs to the third floor where my bathroom was. It was 5.30pm and I had the realisation that I hadn’t released my bladder since the 10.30am catheter. This could be the problem! I was also desperate to sit on a normal toilet rather than the Porta Potti.  

Thankfully I was able to release my bladder a little bit, but still no urge to push the placenta out. I had been trying to push without the contraction. It was time to talk about the next steps, as the ambulance was still outside waiting to be released by the midwife, but apprehensive incase I would need it. I felt like I needed to do something and comply so the poor lady could go home. I did feel guilty that the ambulance had been waiting outside for hours too and the panic my neighbours must have had. I reluctantly agreed to have the injection, but asked if I could wait until the medicated urge occurred to push it out instead of it being pulled out by the cord. Emma, the midwife agreed and left me in the bathroom to go downstairs to get it. Once she left, I thought to myself F this (excuse my language). I hadn’t got this far, through all of that, without even a hint of medical pain relief to fall down at the very last bit. So I decided to give it one last go. I squatted down over the sharps box that she had left me with, and the T-Rex reentered the room. Two roars and it plopped out! HURRAY!!!!!! I shouted down the stairs “I DID IT!” at the very moment Emma’s foot touched the last step. I felt like an absolute superhero….. I DID IT!!!! I got my dream physiological home birth with no medical intervention.  

If you’ve made to here, I applaud you for reading to the end. As well as wanting to share my experience with other women to inspire them to feel empowered with trusting their bodies to birth their babies. I also selfishly wanted to document the moment to ensure I remembered it forever. 

To summarise, I had a long labour; 7 midwives; pushed for 14 hours; blood in waters with “increased risk” of haemorrhaging; an ambulance on standby outside my house for 6 hours; meconium; deflexed baby head position; grade 2 tear declining stitches and a retained placenta of 4+ hours. I was NOT one of the “lucky ones”, but what I was, was well-read and able to evaluate the risk and make educated decisions based on knowledge and not fear. I got my dream home birth and it’s even more bittersweet with all the hiccups that occurred along the way. The outcome could have been very different though. Oli even mentioned during one of her postnatal visits, that if these events had occurred during a hospital birth, I might have been pressured into having an emergency C-section or forceps. Other factors that I believe were vital in aiding my home birth were that I was very fit going into labour having exercised throughout pregnancy, I continued to eat and drink through labour, I remained calm during the early stage of labour, carrying on with my day, I wasn’t scared nor excited, just calm and probably in denial. I wasn’t impatient to meet my baby and had psychologically prepped myself for him to be “late”. 

I have no trauma associated with my birth. Even though there was a moment during labour I thought ‘I’m never doing this again’. As soon as he was born, I couldn’t wait to do it all over again. I had the most insane superhero feeling that lasted a solid 2 weeks. It was a high like no other! Part of me has a slight worry about if the next baby has the same tricky head position, but I am already filling my mind with positivity by telling myself, if I can do it once, I can do it again. This is the type of language we need to be using with expectant mothers to be. Not suggesting that their bodies are incapable and implying that next time I should just have a C-section because “just in case”. We need to change the narrative and I’m here to try and do just that. Even if it’s just on a small scale with family, friends and my patients.  

My next blog in this series focuses on how I prepared for birth, followed by one on my postnatal recovery. If I haven’t bored you to tears with this one, I hope to see you tune into them.