4 weeks on from welcoming my daughter into the world, I am finally ready to share our story. It’s taken me this long to write because life has been a perfect blend of chaos and love and I haven’t wanted to miss out in daylight hours. But before we begin 2020, I want to share one of my biggest and most incredible 2019 moments: birth. 

Ila-Rae decided exactly 1 week early that she was ready to come earthside and so was born in the first week of December. Throughout the last trimester of my pregnancy, I had said that I didn’t mind, and in fact wanted to carry her over our due date because I enjoyed being pregnant. However, the night before her arrival, I was very ready to no longer be pregnant: I was tired, heavy and sore. I wanted to be able to play with and run after Theo Prana (now 29 months) without the constraints of my giant belly.  That night Theo was sick, he ran a temperature and at 1am cried and cried that his throat hurt. He wanted the telly so we left H in bed and I took him downstairs for the dragon movie (How to Train Your Dragon) hoping I’d manage some sleep. We never watched the film, he snuggled up and fell asleep again quickly, waking frequently for reassurance that mummy was there with him. I was exhausted.

Baby girl must have known growing her was taking its toll, the next morning I went to the toilet and realised I’d had a ‘show’. My real contractions started around an hour later (8am) and slowly got worse through the day. H had his usual lie in while I played with Theo and we had a spinach omelette breakfast. The morning was calm enough, I did the washing, sorted out some house bits; the labour pains were becoming more obvious and I knew that this was it, but we’d had a few false alarms in the 2 weeks previously so I kept quiet. Played with Theo, snacked, sang, danced, cuddled and breastfed. Theo was extra attached to me, possibly because he’d been unwell, or possibly because he knew we were maybe getting close to our new arrival. 

H came down mid-morning and he asked if everything was okay. I told him that this could be another false alarm, pains were not frequent enough to tell. At some point, he left me and Theo so he could buy a new computer game, which later he joked he’d never get to play since baby was coming: I laughed and somehow as silly as this may seem, it is significant memory of the early stages of my labour. I’d also very last minute ordered a bump cast kit. It arrived that afternoon.

At 2pm we took Theo to the GP to check on his throat. By this point my contractions were frequent enough to know we should time them, but still irregular. Priority was having my son checked, and making sure he was alright. Once he was given the all clear: we went home and immediately my contractions intensified. I had mentally given my body permission to keep going because I knew that Theo was okay. I think if we’d been told he had an infection, labour would have stalled. 

Harrison got everything ready for the bump cast. I took Theo upstairs and we played with blocks and he fed and cuddled me. I told him baby would be arriving soon, and mummy’s body was getting ready to have his sister come to live outside of my belly. I contacted my friend who’d offered to have Theo while we went to hospital, and the photographer I’d hired. They both knew it was going to happen in the next 12-24 hours. I watched my son and cried knowing it was my last day with only him as my baby. Our relationship has become so sacred to me, I was scared beyond measure that I was going to ruin it by bringing a baby home; I mourned the fact he was suddenly going to be so grown up. 

We put the Teletubies on for Theo while Harrison cast over my bump. I lay down letting it set and my contractions got stronger. It was lying on my kitchen floor breathing and moaning through the pain that I understood the sensuality of labour, and how it could be, in its own way, orgasmic. I breathed heavily, closed my eyes and let the wave-like feeling build and then drop off, it was magical. 

I asked Harrison to take the cast off and after getting cleaned up, began to make dinner. The boys ate wraps but I just wanted to be sick. I’d already taken an anti-sickness tablet so I tried to eat though I didn’t manage much, instead a bounced on the birth ball.  The nausea reminded me of Theo’s labour, except this time I was better prepared. While we ate, we made sure everything was packed and got Theo ready for his sleepover. My 4th night away from him, ever. I walked him to our friends house and he was off, didn’t even say goodbye. He happily went off to play and though he struggled to sleep, he did a lot better than I thought he would. I am truly grateful that he stayed with them, because I could relax and focus on myself and baby, knowing he was safe and well cared for. 

Music on, we set off for hospital in Paisley. I texted our photographer and told her we were leaving: she said she’d meet us there after a while.  

We arrived at 8pm. I said not to bother bringing in our bags in case we were told that I wasn’t far enough along to admit. H wanted to bring them but didn’t argue, and so came out for them again about half an hour later. We saw a midwife who did the initial triage, and then were left to our own devices for a while. I was sick from the pain of contractions and asked for an antiemetic injection but it only arrived after Ila-Rae was born. 

Another midwife Emily introduced herself and brought us some toast and tea. She wanted to examine me but suggested we wait until I was more ready. She encouraged me to breathe through contractions, relax my body and blow the pain away. After a while she suggested it again because the contractions were making me visibly more uncomfortable: I agreed to have a vaginal exam in 15 minutes – we ended up waiting 35 and when she examined me, I was 5cm dilated. Though painful, it was exactly the news I had wanted: active labour meant I’d be admitted into the CMU (maternity unit) and could move to a labour room. It was around 9.30pm.

Just before we moved to the labour room, Louise arrived (our photographer) and got straight to work. She encouraged me and got on well with the midwives straight away. The night shift had started so Emma, a new midwife introduced herself. This made me uncomfortable because I had, in a short time built a rapport with Emily. Both women however, were exceptional. 

The bath had been run at my request and I got straight in. I was still talking and joking between contractions though slowly began to withdraw. Emma made me feel like a person: she sat with me and encouraged me, she never requested I move out of a comfort zone and examined me without making me uncomfortable. At one point, when Harrison and Louise were both in the main room away from me, Emma sat near me and asked me about my hair: it was in 2 french braids for convenience and we briefly discussed how it is often much more comfortable to have hair out the way in labour but that it isn’t something many people advise pregnant women on. It was a simple conversation, but it made me feel like a human being not just a labouring mum. 

I cannot remember full details about each contraction, but I remember getting quieter, more tired, withdrawing into myself, and connecting with the wilder, primal parts of me: I moaned, I cried, I breathed slowly and deeply. I was aware of my music, and grateful that the midwives had gone through my birth plan. Emma was at one point my advocate to tell Harrison and Louise to be quiet or leave the room. 

As things got further along (though I had no real care or idea of the time), Emma asked about pushing, and we spoke about the fetal ejection reflex; she knew that I wanted to let my body take over, so she asked that when I felt my body begin to push or want to, that I let her know. She also told me that the birthe pool was being cleaned and then I’d be able to transfer to there soon. I was still in the bath and H poured water over my back and reminded me to relax my body through contractions. He sang to my music in between. In between the contractions I rested, eyes closed, not quite sleeping. I remember thinking they wouldn’t move me to the pool before baby. 

My body began to push, I told Emma and she encouraged me. She again said we’d move soon but I knew we wouldn’t. I couldn’t talk, the next contraction came and Harrison told me how well I was doing “just a bit more” … but I felt like I couldn’t cope. I moved from my kneeling position to a half kneel, half squat and said I couldn’t do it anymore, I wanted to ask for pain relief, but had no time. I was pushing involuntarily and my body took over. 

Pushing my daughter out was hard, birth it, but it was an incredibly powerful feeling.

Emma said as I pushed that my waters had gone, but I knew it was my baby; I couldn’t talk, just pushed and moaned. Then I heard “no that’s the baby!” and Emma had tried to catch her but I reached out and pulled her through my legs and she was on me. It was bliss. 

We were ushered out the bath fairly quickly due to my history of blood loss and the fact we needed a managed placenta delivery. On the bed, I had skin to skin and Ila-Rae latched onto my breast. We delivered my placenta and the midwives checked for any tears etc – absolutely none. I threw up again, and then my antiemetic finally arrived. 

Skin to skin, quiet time, we were able to bond and relax. Ila’s newborn check and weight wasn’t done for over 2 hours, we were brought toast but I couldn’t stomach any of it. I still felt sick. I was happy to just let her feed and watch her, resting in small spouts. 

We moved to the recovery wing and then sadly Harrison was sent home (3.30am); this was the only tainting experience of our labour and birth, because he was so upset and really I didn’t want him to leave. But we didn’t argue, he went home and I nursed and slept. I held Ila almost all night, something that was entirely impossible with Theo because I could hardly stay awake after his birth. 

In the morning I spoke to Harrison and he brought Theo to pick us up. Theo wasn’t sure at first, more interested in his milkshake than his sister but that soon changed when I said he could hold her. My beautiful boy told her he loved her without being asked to, he said hello beautiful and he cuddled her on the bed. It is a moment I will cherish always.

And there ends my birth story.

My postpartum experience has been entirely different to the first time round. I am of course tired, and there are many hard moments, but I’ll share those bits later. I am starting 2020 as a mum of 2 beautiful babies, feeling empowered by my birth and excited by it too. I hope that this year I can start my journey into birth-work, and after this experience, I hope I can empower other women, whatever their choices are or situation may be, to feel as in control and trusting as I did in the birth room.