It’s been a month, just over actually, since S arrived in our world. A whirlwind pregnancy, and a whirlwind birth, and I say that in the most loving way.

After writing for 40 days, I took a break, and dove deeper into my journals, moved from Plymouth to Scotland and tended to not only my nervous system, but my children’s too – moving really is such a rollercoaster.

2 weeks exactly after we moved into our new space, S arrived… in a glorious, entirely uninterrupted freebirth, with his older siblings witnessing the pain and joy and nearly everything in between.

My early labour started on the Sunday night, the contractions starting off, noticable enough, and also nothing to make me rush. Though I had been joking about how this would be a fast birth, especially when I was stressing about our move, actually, this was the slowest one of all of them.

I slept and Monday morning it was as though nothing had happened. I took the kids up to a play group while H ran errands and walked back home, stopping at various playparks along the way. I rested in the sun, and made peace with the idea that I could still be housing my baby for another few weeks. Of course, that wasn’t the case, but looking back, I think in accepting that there could be weeks of pregnancy still to come, I was able to let go of (at least that part of) the control and wondering that was coming up.

Monday night was the same, and then Tuesday morning, about 5am things started moving faster. Contractions would wake me up, and I was breathing and moaning through them… I said to H, if this kept up we could have a baby before lunch. Alas, it would be another whole day and more.

Things tappered off after breakfast. I cancelled plans and built my bubble… texting a friend who we’d planned as a second birth partner/my emergency contact… she said she would be coming round later if I wanted her to, and so, before midnight she arrived.

Through the day, I swayed through contractions, talked to the kids about how baby was working hard and getting ready, and told them even though it might sound scary, mummy was actually really okay. We played and took photos, I had intended to capture more of the birth story but once it was happening, I didn’t want to be thinking about lights and camera settings… so there are only some beautiful snippets from the early hours.

I cooked dhal and made mango cake with the kids, knowing that in the days ahead, I’d appreciate the nourishing food and sweet treat immensely. The day rocked between restful and restless, I was anticipating contractions and refused to time them, but could sense there was no regularity. They got stronger, and then further apart, and given what had happened with Ks birth, I knew that could mean that baby just wasn’t ready yet.

Bedtime took its toll, I was physically and mentally exhausted and also knew we still had a long marathon to go. My friend was on her way, and while I took the kids to bed, for the last time as just the 3 of them, H put the pool up and eventually they all went to sleep. As they did, I felt peaceful, tired and wondered how the next few hours would go, given that bedtime had once again slowed everything down as I focused on being mum, and turned away from the internal pull to go deep into labour.

My friend arrived, and we sat and spoke a while, H and her sharing stories, me listening in. The oxytocin growing and the support felt immensely. I asked H to fill the pool.

Pool filled, I got in, and the relief was pretty instant. In previous births, water has been a huge part of managing for me, and this was no different. The water makes things easier, and I needed it. Water however, slows earlier labour down, and though I was frustrated that this happened at the time, it also provided the much needed space to rest. I slept in the pool for hours, and it was in this sleepy limbo state where I met my baby, I spoke to him, and he told me to trust him, he was trying and he wasn’t ready yet. It was here, where all the confusion about names melted away, because as we spoke, I called him his name, and afterwards, I knew we couldn’t choose anything else. He had chosen it there, in those moments in the pool.

I got out the pool in the early hours and danced. I shared some moments of reset with my husband when he checked on me,  and journalled my fears, and then, as the dance of labour continued, I put in my earphones and did a breathwork session, setting intentions and adjusting my expectations. I needed to stop trying to fonr the pattern or match this experience to thr ones before, I needed to let S create his own story. It was about 5am when I fell asleep again. 

A few hours later I was talking to E, my friend who had come and stayed over and slept on a mattress on the floor, I told her about my realisation moments, and in true E fashion, she asked what I felt I needed to be supported and nurtured at the time. I love her, and this question really unlocked something for me.

She had some breakfast, walked our pup so H could rest, and then got ready for work. H took her and P & A in the car, dropped her off and went to grab eztra snacks for the kids. I stayed home with K while he watched paw patrol so I could nap… we had joked that as soon as she left, things would quicken. They did.

E had helped me put the TENS machine on earlier, and though contractions were still irregular, I was going deeper. I napped and a while later called H and told him I needed him  and to come home without snacks if need be. He asked if I’d had the baby already, but I was still hours away, I just wanted my person. Though I didn’t want to be touched or held, I wanted him around, because he helped me feel safe – in those moments I was seeking safety and solitude.

I knew I could do it alone. I didn’t want to.

He got home and I was deeply in my zone by then. I came half out of it with the kids, who were so excited, and then, I got in the pool while he played with them, fed them and they watched TV. They wanted to be involved, and so i taught them about breathing with me, and how the sounds mummy was making weren’t bad, because though it hurt, it meant my body and baby was doing exactly what they needed, and it was helping him come out. There are some videos of these moments, I asked H to take because I couldn’t, and the other day, I heard A watching one as she scrolled through my camera roll. She says it reminds her of that day and that it sounded scary but wasn’t bad.

After a while, I wanted space, so they were upstairs, I was down in the pool. I wanted H near, and I also wanted to be alone… so I could feel him close but he knew not to touch me. The kids shuffled arould curious, playing and checking on me.

I knew they were moving around, but it felt so normal and safe… mostly anyway.  I remember at one point they were all shouting and I told them to be quieter… when they didn’t, I told them they weren’t helping baby come. Then they started breathing with me instead, and though it meant I was focusing on them more than my body, it was both funny and wholesome.

Then, as they were upstairs and I was down,  I felt S start to decent. “He’s coming” I said…. and then, I stopped “get A”.

H ran to get the kids, and they came down, watching and waiting. It was nearly an hour later before he arrived, so H moved the laptop to the kitchen and they watched there quietly, knowing it was soon.

That last hour or so was hard. I remember telling H I was dying. He told me I wasn’t, and I told him to shut up because I absolutely was. I told him I couldn’t do it. I felt like I was breaking… I was scared and also, there was a part of me listening in, knowing that because this was where I was, I was at the very end of the marathon now. I heard myself say I could do it and H said “you can, you can, you can” … something we say to the kids.

The next few surges, I held this mantra with me. I can. I can. I can.

And then, I said he was coming – my body took over and I fully became the portal allowing him to enter. H grabbed my phone and video, told the kids to stand by the pool and waited. “He’s here” is the start of the video, the biggest relief and quiet accomplishment palpable in my voice.

S arrived completely of his own accord. I didn’t push. Foetal ejection reflex happened, and he entered into the world in the pool, the calmest, most beautiful experience, exactly what I had hoped for, except better. The video is one I will treasure forever.

As soon as he was here, I brought him out the water and the kids wanted to meet him, so I invited them into the pool, reminded them he was still attached to the placenta and they touched his head, saying hi. K said “it’s a baby kid” which when I listen back sounds like either pink or pig, but H understood he was saying S had arrived.

The pool started turning red; the kids got out and I followed. We knew from our experience with K that the placenta could be very quick, but just to be cautious, I had some tincture that I’d bought specifically. Within 10 minutes of his birth, squatting over a bowl, the tiny placenta that had been the life force of S while he grew was out, and though again we were cautious to watch the bleeding, after those initial few minutes, aside from the intense nausea, I was feeling so good.

It was post birth that I started actually being sick, my bodies reaction to the intense marathon it had just completed. H fed me, and made sure I was hydrated… but for a few hours, nothing stayed down. We called the midwifery team after the placenta arrived, and they sent someone out. She was honestly lovely, kind, excited to be coming out to a freebirth, and so congratulatory through the whole thing. I had been worried about calling anyone but she made the whole experience feel so easy, she notifed our birth and checked with us every step of the way.

A few hours later, once we’d told families and friends about our new addition, it was bedtime, and so the kids all chambered into bed and said goodnight to their new baby brother. The weeks following have been a beautiful rollercoaster… the most healing postpartum I’ve had. The most restful. The most active in many ways too. It’s been such a different experience… I wish I could bottle parts of it up to gift away. Between the mini meal train organised by E, and trip my mum did (flying from Gibraltar!) to see us and cook so I could rest, and the beds on the floor downstairs that helped H insist I rest, and the 12 days at home while others came to me or went out, I have really felt that there is no “right” way to do postpartum, but that there is so much that can aid us if we lean in. An

Anyway, there it is, the birth story of S. I could have written more… but its already 2000 words long, and I’ve lost many details already honestly. Like with everything, this is my version, this is my experience, and it is what I can remember… but truly words don’t give me the real way to describe this story. Alas, it was far more than these letter combinations can convey.

I’ll write again soon (ish),

With love, Rohana x

Would you like to share your birth story? Do you have questions? Get in touch and let’s chat.