As a first time mother, and someone who has grown up in Africa, it hadn’t ever occurred to me to consider a home birth in the UK until we met Liz. The way in which she explained a woman’s inherent ability to birth her baby in the most natural – and of course, primal – way, made it the only and most obvious choice for us. Naturally, as she explains herself, some mothers and some babies need extra help, and had we been in that situation, she would have guided and supported us in whatever scenario presented itself to us. Having very recently retired from international rowing, and having my Olympic dream taken away from me, Liz was very understanding of the special set of emotional circumstances surrounding our pregnancy. The baby was a very wanted surprise, coming a few weeks after my rowing career ended…a very different Summer 2012 activity to the one I’d focussed on for over ten years, and our very own alternative gold medal!

When our “due date” finally came around, it was very clear that we were not going to be having our baby. I’d had a lot of quite hefty Braxton Hicks for a few weeks and I thought that our baby was coming early. However days rolled into one week, ten days…then almost two weeks “overdue”. Richard and I were very certain that we did not want an induction, nor were we interested in any other form of intervention in general. On the Wednesday, Liz suggested very gently that we did an internal examination, as I had had a couple of acupuncture sessions to help nudge things along and for some reason Baby was hanging on (head down and fully engaged, but seemed to be clinging onto my ribcage with its little feet – so much so that we started calling it the Bat Child). My cervix was favourable and 1 – 2cm dilated already, and so whilst “in there”, Liz did a membrane sweep with my agreement. A couple of hours later I had a bloody show and not much more other than some more Braxton Hicks for the rest of that day. We went to bed and slept well, waking up the next morning refreshed and happy.

Richard worked from home that day as I knew deep in myself that things were starting. We wandered into the town for a cup of tea and a few supplies, and sitting in Starbucks, I started to experience some lovely contractions. At this point the sense of humour test came out: Richard said a naughty word mid-contraction and if I laughed, then we were still good! On the way home, I started to need a few stops to get through contractions, but it was still nothing worth shouting about. Once back at the house I decided to bake a “Groaning Cake”, during which the contractions really started kicking in…I had to pause mid-mix and stir to get through each one, and after a while the sense of humour test didn’t work, in spite of an upgrade to the naughty word! It was time to call Liz.

She arrived in her calm and lovely way, and made an assessment of the situation. I had moved upstairs by this point and was moving and swaying, wiggling my hips and employing some of the yoga and breathing I had been doing during pregnancy. It’s all a bit of a blur after this. The contractions were coming thick and fast now and I began to need a bit of gas and air. At one point I remember asking for an epidural and Liz very calmly explained what the time involved and implications of getting ourselves to the hospital, with no guarantee that an anaesthetist would be immediately available. I think I said something along the lines of “Sod that, I’ll crack on then”. We tried me in the bath for a while, which helped a little, given that I had become very fed up with the TENS machine. After a while I got fed up with the bath too, and I was starting to push, which felt better but I didn’t feel that it was doing anything worthwhile. Having moved to the birth stool and spent time there, I became very tired and I was starting to feel cold. I moved to our bed and went on all fours, with Richard massaging my sacrum and generally being wonderful. I lay on my left side for some rest, when my waters broke. More all fours and systematic use of gas and air alongside Richard’s massage before trying the birth stool again…I believe Lizzie did an internal examination while I was on the bed and things hadn’t progressed as far as she would have liked. I remember her saying something about an anterior “lip” on my cervix and that she could try to “be the baby’s head” and move things into the right position. This hurt like hell! I thought that I was screaming the house down, but apparently I just yelped loudly a few times, with a couple of swear words thrown in for good measure. Richard says that at one point I was moving him (he was sitting behind me), the birth stool and Meg, the assisting midwife whilst trying to deal with the pain and pushing.

Liz suggested I went for a wee break, and Richard came with me. It felt much better sitting on the loo, and for some reason I felt better. If my memory serves me correctly, I was able to open my legs wider and move my hips more effectively, whilst wrapping my arms around poor Richard. Having gone through a few more contractions, we moved to the bed with Richard sitting behind me. Liz had called the wonderful acupuncturist, Carys, earlier that evening to help as Meg was tied up, and then said for her to go home as Meg had then arrived a little later. However I was in a fair amount of pain and apparently Carys was called back, and told “Not to spare the horses”.

Having moved to the bed again, a few minutes later Liz said that everything was progressing nicely, and she put a mirror down there for me to have a look at what I was doing. Having the visual aid in front of me made a huge difference, and having my husband’s loving arms around me made me feel safe. I saw the baby’s hair and couldn’t work out what I was seeing other than that – it all looked so odd and unfamiliar down there. Minutes later I pushed the baby’s head out, Carys having arrived just in time to see it crowning. Then a little while later the shoulders and body emerged, and one final go later and the little legs came out in a slithery “gush”. Our son was born at 10.32pm on our bed, in a fairly conventional “hospital” position, going to show that even the simplest of birth plans – and ideas of birth stools and “natural positions” – can go out of the window!! We w

aited for the cord to stop pulsating which Richard then cut. Whilst the baby was being checked over, we tried to get me to push the placenta out. No amount of coughing shifted it, so I stood up to move to the birth stool – I didn’t even get to sit down before it merely dropped out!

I have never felt anything so amazing in all my life as giving birth, surrounded by love and a huge support that I feel privileged to have had the chance to choose over the “norm”. I can’t wait to experience birth again for bot myself and my husband, and I will have a home birth again without any question. Liz, Meg, Carys and the three of us worked so well together to end up with a healthy and very bonny, not to mention long and skinny little man of 7lbs 2ozs. The rest of the evening was spent drinking tea and eating Groaning (aka Lemon Drizzle) Cake! I had a bath, whilst breastfeeding for the first time and this set the tone for the next two weeks…a blur of delicious babymoon with a loving husband and a beautiful baby boy to lap up and adore!

It is clear to me now that without the calm efficiency and sense of what a woman needs, my outcome and birth would have been very different had we chosen a hospital birth. I shudder to think of episiotomy, managed third stage and potentially more invasive interventions – thank goodness for Liz, and what a tragic loss to woman and babyhood that next autumn the short-sightedness of a few will ruin choice and safety for those women who have had the privilege of being exposed to, and experienced the blessing of Independent Midwifery.

My first child was born eight years ago. Aside from many months of nausea I had a blissfully straightforward pregnancy and happily planned a home birth supported by my NHS midwives. It was almost derailed by my daughter being overdue, and I had a hospital induction booked, but after a successful acupuncture induction I was so excited when my labour finally started at home. Labour was well established and the midwife suggested she examine me to check my progress. Everyone was shocked when she discovered my baby was breech, and according to NHS policy I was advised to transfer to hospital for an emergency caesarean. This was a traumatic experience and I had a difficult start to motherhood. As I learned to trust my baby, I relaxed and started to enjoy our relationship, but I had lost trust in my body and in the maternity services.

Three years later my second baby was on his way. I was determined to go for a VBAC (vaginal birth after caesarean section) but, wary of needing an emergency transfer again, I chose to birth in hospital. We were supported by our wonderful doula Kathryn Los, who radiated positive birthing energy, and it was fantastic to have her calm presence during the birth. Although I had planned a water birth, I couldn’t get into the pool as the midwife was concerned that our baby was showing signs of distress, and the birth became a stressful experience with the midwife and obstetrician coaching me to push before my body was really ready, which I found difficult lying on my back strapped to the foetal heart rate monitor. Our son was finally born with some help from the ventouse. I had been hoping to delay clamping the cord but it was cut straight away because the staff were concerned he would need resuscitation. In fact he was fine, and I felt very triumphant to have achieved a VBAC, but my recovery was not straightforward as I had suffered a 3rd degree tear and broken my coccyx while pushing.

We had to wait a while for our third baby, and after two miscarriages, another struggle with nausea and a Down syndrome scare, I knew this would be my last pregnancy. The desire to birth at home had never left me, and I felt sure my body could birth naturally if I could avoid my labour being disturbed and managed. I decided to do everything possible to give myself the best chance of a physiological birth, one last time. The first step was hiring my amazing independent midwife, Liz Nightingale at Purple Walnut Midwife. Liz’s holistic care throughout my pregnancy was the best possible birth preparation. I also used the Mindful Mamma hypnobirthing method, completed a Mindfulness Based Childbirth and Parenting course, practised yoga and meditation, and had acupuncture, osteopathy and hypnotherapy to prepare my body and mind for a positive birth. After two difficult births it often seemed impossible – against the fates – for me to have a good birth experience. I used visualisation and affirmations to make the idea of a good birth experience real to me. I visualised myself in the birth pool in our kitchen, bathed in starlight under the night sky, laughing through the surges and belly-dancing my baby out.

By the end of my pregnancy I felt completely confident in my ability to have a natural birth at home. The last weeks of my pregnancy were a really special time, with a wonderful Blessingway ceremony to celebrate and prepare for the birth. I felt sad to realise I would never be pregnant again, and I had to work on letting go of the pregnancy and letting go of a tight grip on my wishes for the birth, to open myself up to the birth I was actually going to have. I found Pam England’s book ‘Labyrinth of Birth’ especially helpful in the last few days. Making a birth labyrinth helped me to focus on accepting events as they unfolded. It was really important to me to prepare for and visualise my ideal birth to feel confident going into HBAC (home birth after caesarean section), but to get my labour started I had to let go of this ideal and welcome my real experience.

One Sunday evening at nearly 42 weeks after an autumnal walk by the river, the intermittent tightenings I’d felt for the past fortnight seemed to get more regular. I felt excited that this might be it! We carried on with dinner and our kids’ evening routine, and then went to bed ourselves at about 10.30 pm. About five minutes after I fell asleep, I was woken up by a contraction – a proper one! The surges soon became regular and strong enough to stop me going back to sleep. I sent Liz a text to let her know things had started. Then we went downstairs to set up the pool. My husband, Phil, went back to bed but I couldn’t sleep, I was too excited and the surges were getting stronger. I pottered about in the kitchen, and around 2am I woke Phil as I felt it was time to fill the pool. The sound of the water running into the pool was soothing. I had all the birth art from my Blessingway and my affirmations on the wall, and my hypnobirthing music playing. The night was too cloudy for the stars to be twinkling, but the fairy lights on the wall were. It was beautiful, and I felt ready. The idyllic scene was tempered by the practical matter of needing to clear out my digestive system from both ends…

At about 4 am I felt like I wanted to get on all fours, kneeling over the sofa. I started to make a low ‘Ahhh’ sound during the surges and just wanted to close my eyes and rest in between. Phil called Liz and after she’d arrived I got into the pool. The water was lovely and warm, and I completely relaxed. The surges were really intense now, with a very strong feeling of pressure low across the front of my bump. My mooing got louder, and making this sonorous noise really seemed like the best way to channel the energy of the surges. The same low pressure continued in between surges, which surprised me as in my past two labours the gaps in between had been welcome breaks of complete comfort. I hadn’t been expecting to feel pain, especially not in between surges. My vigorous baby wriggling and kicking in between surges, while a lovely reminder of his active part in the birth, was also darned uncomfortable!

Time passed, dawn rose outside, later a friend came to take the kids to school. The surges were more and more intense; I was feeling pain across the front of my bump and low in my back. This was where I really needed to use my mindfulness practice, to accept that this labour was not going to be the fast, easy one I’d imagined. I worked on accepting things as they were, accepting myself for finding it hard, especially as I found myself thinking ‘This was a mistake, I wish I was in hospital getting an epidural!’, and reminding myself I just needed to get through each moment as it happened. Labour seemed like a very appropriate word, as this was hard work!

The morning continued and our kitchen filled with light; I carried on breathing through the surges in the pool. Despite the continuous sensation of pressure I was able to relax completely between surges, and I would become aware of the music that was playing on repeat. I noticed the details – warmth under my legs where fresh hot water was poured into the pool, ripples on the water created by my vocalisation as I knelt with my face just above the surface, the exquisite trickle of warm water being poured down my back. I was filled with a sense of gratitude towards Phil and Liz.

After I’d been in the pool for around four hours I heard my vocalisation changing – it started to sound a bit more like a growl at times, and I started to feel like a mother bear. I had been floating on my back but now I got onto all fours and every few surges I could feel my body pushing a bit. I felt a pop and a gush in the pool as my waters released. After a time Liz asked if she could examine me (she was wondering if I had a lip of cervix in the way) – I was excited when she said I was fully dilated and she could feel my baby’s head.

Soon I started to push with every surge, by now it was around 10am. Liz reminded me to direct the energy of the surge downwards into my bottom by grunting, rather than mooing it away. I was holding Phil’s hands and squeezing them hard during surges. I was so glad to have him with me. I felt hungry and had a few bites of banana. Liz was monitoring my baby with a Sonicaid after each surge and his heart rate was dropping a bit. She suggested I turn around to floating on my back again. Then I tried squatting in the pool. Meg, my second midwife, had arrived and was writing in my notes.

I had been pushing for a while and was starting to feel tired. Liz suggested I get out of the pool and try the birthing stool. I found this really helped me push as I was able to pull on the handles, and had Phil supporting me between surges, but the position didn’t seem to suit the baby so well and finally Liz suggested I try the left lateral position, lying on my side on our sofa. I hadn’t expected to be in the lounge and hadn’t put any protective coverings on the furniture. As I pushed with all my might I had a moment of concern for our new sofa cushions! Liz supported my perineum with a warm compress which felt great. She said to Meg ‘I can see the purple walnut!’ and I wished I’d thought to ask during the many antenatal visits what this was. I began to feel that I couldn’t go on much longer and I needed the baby to come. I pushed as hard as I could – it felt like I was turning inside out. Finally I could feel his head moving down, but it was so discouraging every time it slid back up when the push finished. Liz said not to worry, and that this rest was just what my baby needed to recover for the next surge, when he would move down further. I’d been pushing for an hour and a half now; I felt really tired and desperate for our baby to be born. Liz encouraged me that he was really close, saying ‘This baby’s got lots of black hair!’.

At last Liz was saying ‘Little push, little push’ and I knew his head was coming, I couldn’t hold back and his head surged out. No stinging or burning, just a huge stretch and the delicious feeling of pushing his head out. I was surprised that his head felt squashy like a fruit – I’d been expecting something hard. At the next surge I pushed again and his body came out – he was born! It was 11.30 am. Liz lifted him onto my tummy – he looked perfect. I felt so relieved he was here, and tired and overwhelmed. I just wanted to hold him. I didn’t even want to check whether he was a boy or a girl at first. I said to Phil we can definitely never, ever do this again!

Our baby started to wriggle and bob his head on my tummy and I helped him nuzzle his way to my breast. He latched on and I felt a rush of love as he started to suckle. I didn’t even give a thought to the placenta but gradually I noticed the surges returning. About an hour and a half after he was born, with some coughing and Meg massaging my abdomen, the placenta came away. I refused to do any more pushing but it moved down with the surges. We had a lotus birth so instead of cutting the cord we let the placenta drain in a colander over a bowl next to me. I needed some stitches as I’d had a 2nd degree tear, due to the pressure of his big head against the vulnerable area from the previous tear. Phil held the baby while Liz did my stitches. It felt great to be getting my stitches in the comfort of my own lounge watching my husband crooning to our baby, instead of needing a spinal block and a couple of hours in a cold operating theatre. We weighed him: 9 lbs 4 oz, much bigger than his siblings were! Then I snuggled up on the sofa to nurse and cuddle our baby. Phil made some lunch, and later collected our older children from school. They were delighted their brother had arrived at last – the final weeks had seemed such a long time to wait. That night I went to bed with our new baby and his placenta tucked up next to me.

I had read a story of a Blessingway ceremony in a parenting magazine and knew this would be a lovely way to prepare for my baby’s birth. I just wasn’t sure how to organise it so I was thrilled when Liz agreed to lead my ceremony. A Blessingway, or Mother Blessing, is adapted by Western culture from the Navajo Blessingway tradition involving ceremonies to mark important rites of passage. It’s a way of celebrating the expectant mother and honouring the momentous task she is about to undertake in birthing her baby.

Eight close friends, all mothers, and Liz and Meg squeezed into our small house one Saturday afternoon when I was 39 weeks pregnant while my husband took our older children to the park. I chose to have the ceremony in our house even though that restricted the number of people I could invite, because I planned a home birth and wanted the positive energy generated by the ceremony to be in our house. My mother and sister, who live abroad, weren’t able to come but contributed to the ceremony by sending cards, beads and a video message which really helped me feel they were there in spirit. Everyone gathered in a circle in our lounge and Liz talked about the birth statues and mandalas she had brought as decoration and lit a candle. She passed the candle round and asked everyone to put their hands over the flame and then pass their hands over their heads as a purification ritual. Liz explained the ceremony briefly and asked everyone to introduce themselves by saying how they knew me and their favourite thing about being a mother. This helped everyone feel comfortable contributing, as several people didn’t know each other.

Then Liz put out some coloured paper and pastels on the kitchen table and asked everybody to make a mandala or picture with messages or images suggesting a good birth. Everyone enjoyed getting creative with this. We put the pictures up on the wall in the lounge and everyone talked about what they had drawn and written. While one friend brushed out my hair, which had been plaited earlier by my daughter, everyone made a garland to crown me with as a way of celebrating my special status as a mother about to give birth. The garland was made by twining natural objects everyone had brought into a crocheted headband. It contained flowers, leaves, berries, shells and feathers and was a beautiful thing; it also felt nice and comfortable to wear for the afternoon. Next we made a birthing and nursing necklace, each person contributing a bead they had brought and stringing it on the necklace after explaining its significance relating to birth. I was so touched by the thought and effort everyone had put into their artwork and choice of beads and natural objects. It was a lovely way to create a very visual reminder of everyone’s good wishes and positive suggestions for my baby’s birth.

Some people had brought poems or other readings to share, and after this everyone had fun drawing on my bump with henna! The baby became especially active during this and I felt he sensed this part of the ceremony was in his honour. We all joined hands and sang ‘Happy birthday’ to the baby, then wove a web symbolising the connection between us by throwing a ball of wool between each person after winding it around our wrists. When we’d all been woven together, we broke the wool off so that each person had a strand to tie around her wrist. The strands of wool in mine felted together nicely in the birth pool which we tried out the day after. Everyone wore these bracelets until I gave birth, and I had some lovely messages from my friends while I was waiting for labour, saying they had thought of me as they caught sight of the bracelet.

The ceremony was completed and we moved on to the feast; my family and some of the other partners and children joined us, and a fantastic bring and share spread appeared. It was a lovely way to round off the afternoon.

I enjoyed every minute of my Blessingway. It’s rare in Western culture that we get to feel so thoroughly indulged as mothers. It felt wonderful to have my pregnancy celebrated in such a joyful way, and to absorb such positive birthing energy and such a warm welcome for my baby from the amazing women who were there. It also felt special to have a ceremony just for mothers to be able to connect with each other’s maternal wisdom.

I felt the Blessingway was the most positive way possible to prepare for birth. A few days before my baby was born I made my ‘birth wall’ with a collage of all the artwork and my hypnobirthing affirmations stuck to the kitchen wall where we planned to have the birth pool, decorated with the necklace, garland and some fairy lights. Seeing this on the wall helped me feel ready to go into labour, and it looked very pretty in the middle of the night when my labour finally started! I wish every expectant mother could have a Blessingway. I can’t think of a better way to feel good about being pregnant or giving birth.

I chose quite a ceremonial structure for mine but there are so many possibilities with varying degrees of formality. I liked the way the ceremonial aspects gave the event a sense of occasion and encouraged everyone’s mindful participation, but the activities we did were fun, creative and worked for everyone being from different spiritual backgrounds. Liz did a fantastic job of leading the ceremony, with just the right balance of formality and friendly warmth.

I think the Blessingway was particularly important for me as a way of acknowledging my ability to receive good things. After two difficult births, it was often hard to believe that it would be possible for me to have a good birth experience. Being at the centre of so much caring attention helped me feel I deserved, and could have, a positive birth.

Birth Day

Our beautiful boy was born at home. After a long but natural labour he surged out into the world and was helped into my arms by Liz and Meg. He cried briefly then began to look for the breast and I helped him to latch on. We were so delighted with him and absorbed in watching him have his first breastfeed that I hardly thought about the placenta, but I gradually became more aware of the surges returning, reminding me the birth was not quite over. Finally, about an hour and a half after his birth, and with some abdominal massage from Meg, the placenta came away and I coughed to help it out. Liz put the placenta into a colander over a large bowl to drain, and we were all able to have a good look at it. Liz gently cut off the membranes from the bag of waters. Our baby’s cord was soft, bluish-white with some darker lumps where the blood had clotted, and just the right length to give a bit of flexibility when moving the baby and placenta around.

I spent the afternoon cuddling and nursing my baby on the sofa with the placenta draining in its bowl on a chair next to me. That night I went to bed with my new baby and his placenta in its bowl tucked up next to me.

Day 1

We washed the placenta by pouring warm water over it and then put it into a bamboo steamer with a lid (and a notch cut out for the cord to pass through). We salted it liberally on both sides and added some drops of rosemary and lavender essential oils. We kept the bamboo steamer in a bowl as the placenta continued to drain. When we needed to move around, we had to think carefully about how to position the baby so that the cord would not be pulled; at first we needed one person to carry the baby and one to hold the placenta but then we worked out it was easier for one person to carry both placenta and baby, holding the placenta’s bowl with the hand that was tucked under the baby’s bottom. I noticed that our baby seemed to react when the placenta was moved, and when it was washed. It felt right to treat the placenta with as much respect and gentleness as we did our baby.

Our 7-year-old daughter noticed when she came home from school that the cord had got thinner. It felt cold to touch and I wondered whether this felt strange to our baby, who must have been used to it feeling warm, thick and pulsing with blood flow.

Day 2

We were surprised how much the cord had thinned out today, it was becoming harder and more brittle. Our baby seemed to enjoy grasping it with his toes today. These days were very peaceful; our baby slept a lot, often smiling in his sleep, and when he did open his eyes they had a dreamy, far-away look. I felt he was not quite in the world. We spent a lot of time holding him skin-to-skin, nursing and gazing at him, in a quiet house while our older children were at school.

Day 3

Our daughter helped me salt the placenta again, and we sprinkled some dried rosemary from the garden onto it. By now the cord had thinned and shrunk so much it had become more difficult to move baby and placenta around. The cord was very brittle and I worried it would snap if we jerked it by accident.

My milk was coming in and I was dealing with engorged breasts and a forceful let-down reflex, meaning our baby needed to be burped frequently. I started to feel a bit frustrated that his still being connected to the placenta made it difficult to change his position for feeding and burping. Our son also seemed more alert – my husband commented that he looked ‘more like a baby’. I felt he was coming into the world more, and that he might be getting ready to let go of his placenta. Liz noticed that his umbilicus smelt gangrenous, a sign that the cord was preparing to detach.

Day 4

We woke up to find that the cord had come away in the night. We marvelled at our baby’s belly-button, which was neat and healthy-looking. I felt a new lease of energy and freedom at being able to pick up our baby without needing to think about the placenta. We also felt ready to name him today.

The process of releasing the placenta mirrored the birth: it seemed he and I needed to start to feel limited by being attached to the placenta just as I had to start feeling fed up with being pregnant in order to go into labour. I felt that we were all ready to move on to the next phase – breastfeeding was well established and I noticed our son had developed a sense of attachment to me and my ability to nurse him. I felt he was now able to rely on our breastfeeding relationship to nourish him, and he was confident to release his placenta.

One week after our son’s birth we buried his placenta in our garden and planted a cherry tree over it. This was our baby’s first venture out of the house and into the outside world, snuggled against me in a sling.

The lotus birth really slowed us down and helped us to focus on our baby in those precious first few days. It was a blessing to have such a peaceful start to our son’s life.

On the 18^th August at 40+3 days gestation I spent a lovely day with my Mum in the garden just chilling out and chatting. I had lots of Braxton Hick’s during the day and we had a lovely steak dinner together that evening. After dinner I felt I had indigestion after the big dinner and tired as I hadn’t had a nap all day so I took myself off to bed quite early. I had a couple of Gaviscon as my tummy felt a bit funny and fell asleep. I kept getting woken up with windy pains but managed to get back to sleep again. It wasn’t until half 11 when I realised I kept getting woken up every 20 minutes so perhaps it wasn’t wind!

I sent my husband Christian and Liz texts letting them know that I thought I may be in the stages of early labour and my husband replied that he was on his way home from work. I called Liz after midnight as the time between pains was getting closer and she said to keep an eye on how close they were and to call her if they got to 5 minutes between. I got hungry about one o’clock and came downstairs and had some toast and chatted to a friend on messenger but didn’t mention anything as I didn’t think it would come to anything. It still felt like wind at this point and I was convinced I wasn’t in real labour. My husband came in and we went to bed with me still saying I was probably experiencing a warm up and I slept on and off until about 6am, using my relaxation to drift off to sleep each time. Our daughter Penny came in to us and we played on the bed around 7am and then I decided to have a bath to relax in and see what happened.

My mum took Penny to nursery and Liz texted to see how things were going and then called. I explained that by then the pains were around 10 minutes apart and she said she would come along around 9:30. Whilst in the bath they were getting closer, 7 minutes apart so I called her as I was surprised how quickly things had progressed and asked her to come sooner. At that point I started listening to a hypnobirthing track on my iPod which got me through until about 10:00. I had a cough and every time I seemed to cough it would start another surge! Things did quieten down and the surges seemed to slow down a bit so I thought I’d try out ‘breathing love down to my baby’ which I must admit I was a bit sceptical about but I really did work and each time I thought about how much I loved the little baby inside and got a warm tingling feeling, another surge started.

Liz arrived at 9:30 and came to see me in the bath but I wasn’t too aware of what was going on around me as I was so relaxed and not really feeling any pain. In fact I sat still in the bath smiling through the surges; they were really not painful, just powerful. I stayed in the bath on my own with Christian visiting only to bring me food and Liz coming to check the baby’s heart rate and I asked Christian to get the birthing pool ready at around 10:00.

At 11:00 I decided to leave the bath between surges as it was getting a bit uncomfortable not to be able to lie back on something soft and I put my dressing gown on and came downstairs. It was amazing when I got in the soft pool, so warm and comfortable, in fact a bit too warm as I was quite hot by then. I asked Christian to put some cold water in the pool to make it more comfortable and to turn on the fan. I had left my relaxed state somewhat by then as the surges were getting really strong and the time between them was very short by that stage. I asked for my mum to go for a walk as I couldn’t bear to have too many people in the room. I started to feel very uncomfortable and a bit desperate and recognised that I was going through transition at that stage and when Liz asked me how I was feeling I remarked that an epidural would be quite nice at that stage but I knew it was much too late.

Even though it was uncomfortable, I kept up my breathing and visualisation which really helped until I felt an uncontrollable urge to bear down which did scare me a little, the power of the sensation and I did come out of my relaxed state. I asked Christian to push on my back as I could feel pressure there which was really uncomfortable and when he did it really helped. I remember also that just before then Christian had been concerned that the big fan was too noisy and switched on a smaller one which didn’t give me enough air so I was struggling somewhat with telling him to put the other fan on, all a bit confusing just as the baby was coming out!

At that point I just used my breathing to get me through to the point where I could feel my baby’s head crowning, I didn’t push, just waited as I felt the head come out. I thought Liz was moving the baby as asked her to stop but she calmly explained to me that it was the baby wiggling which made it so real that I was so close to meeting my baby. I then knew that when I go the next surge, the rest of the baby would follow and that filled me with such joy at that point and it was only when the next surge came that I gave a little push and out he slipped really easily and without pain. He had the cord around his neck which Liz carefully unwound and passed him to me. I then sat with him on my chest with Christian behind me cuddling him and stroking his soft head, an amazing experience and all so natural and relaxing. I wouldn’t have believed it unless I had experienced it.

The third stage happened quickly and easily, so quickly in fact, Liz had just gone for a quick break to the toilet when it came out and we called for her and she came to examine the placenta. When I got out of the pool and lay feeding little Finn on the sofa I had really intense after-pains but Liz explained that my uterus was shrinking rather rapidly and that was causing the pain, so a couple of paracetamol would help. We had a lot of wonderful bonding time with Finn and Christian had managed to clear up the room, clean the birthing pool and restore some sense of normality by the time my mum brought Penny home from nursery to see her new baby brother.

My older sons loved Liz’s antenatal visits and particularly her purple gloves (which they often ‘borrowed’ and are still lurking at the bottom of the dressing up box!).  They used to rush to get their ‘doctor’s set’ so they could help Liz carry out all the essentials before piling up cushions for me to lie on and helping with the Doppler. Liz lent my eldest son a range of books which he loved, all about babies and birth – perhaps a midwife in the making! Liz’s family centred care was great, everyone felt involved in the baby’s arrival.

At 42 weeks there was still no sign of the baby putting in an arrival so Liz provided us with an information pack about the pros and cons of induction and left Charles and I to discuss how we felt about this.  We decided that we felt happy going to 43 weeks – I knew that my ‘official’ dates weren’t accurate so it would actually be more like 42 weeks plus 2 days.  However, by 43 weeks things weren’t really happening so we resigned ourselves to attending our appointment for induction.

During the final few weeks of my pregnancy I’d had some acupuncture to try and encourage things along, however I’d found the points in my back particularly painful especially when the needle was manipulated.  On the morning of my induction appointment Liz suggested having another session of acupuncture which she would attend and give me Entonox if I required it – which I did!  By the end of the session I was having regular contractions.  Liz left, telling me to call her later if anything changed.

My Mum had taken the boys out all morning and when they came back for lunch I kept myself tucked away upstairs. Liz was concerned that if I had too much to do with the hurly burly of family life the contractions might stop.  I briefly explained to them that they would be going out again after lunch and when they were out I would either have the baby at home or go to hospital to have the baby.  They excitedly agreed and then carried on with their lunch.

My contractions continued while I had some lunch and then decided to make some cakes, exchanging texts with Liz periodically about how things were going. I wished I’d never started the cakes because by the time they went into the oven I was thinking that I really needed to have a shower and focus on my labour.  As soon as the cakes were out, I jumped in the shower – only to think actually I’d like the TENS machine on.  We couldn’t find the labour instructions so Charles slapped it on in about the right place and then I set off to find the instructions.  I probably spent the next half an hour or so frantically searching through every pile in the house before deciding that actually it was too late for TENS and I needed gas and air NOW.  Charles rang Liz and she arrived within 15 minutes to provide me with the much needed gas and air.

By the time Liz arrived I was well focussed on the contractions, leaning over my chest of drawers, swaying and groaning.  Very soon after she arrived I felt like things were changing.  The pool was still filling up but was just about ready so I got in.  Sinking into the warm water was so lovely – the room was dim and I felt very relaxed there.  I knelt up against the side of the pool so I could still have the gas and air.  Charles kept me cool with sips of drink and wiped my forehead with a cool flannel. Liz monitored the baby between contractions but, apart from reminding me that I could go slowly if I wanted to, sat back and wrote her notes.  There hadn’t been time to bring in the music or light the scented candle, but it was enough to be in a lovely warm, dark, quiet space.

After a short while in the pool and a few pushes during which I could feel the baby moving down against my perineum the baby crowned, a sensation that lasted only a few seconds before his head was born. With the next contraction his shoulders were born and the rest of his body slithered out. Liz caught him and then passed him under the water to me and I lifted him up onto my chest, giving his hair a quick rub on the way up to remove some of the gunk.  He cried for several minutes – he seemed to know that as the youngest of three boys he’d have to shout to be heard.  I was helped out of the pool and to my bedroom where I had two areas that had been set up for me to birth my placenta – either my bed piled with pillows and covered in mats or a birthing stool.  I chose my bed and snuggled under a fleecy blanket and a heap of towels.  After a little while I birthed the placenta which was taken off to the bathroom to be examined.

The baby had been skin to skin with me during this time and had bobbed and nuzzled his way to sort himself out with a feed.  We put a nappy on him and Charles had a skin to skin cuddle whilst I had a shower.

Charles called my parents to say they could come back from their meal at Pizza Express, they’d stretched out the boys eating ice-cream and drinking bambinoccinos as long as possible!  The boys dashed upstairs to meet their longed for baby brother.  They were thrilled with him and spent a long time looking at his fingers and hands and stroking his head before being persuaded that it was bedtime.

Liz gathered her bits and pieces and left us for the night with reassurances that we could call her if necessary.  Charles put the boys to bed and my Mum made me a VERY welcome fried egg sandwich and a massive mug of tea.

I am grateful to my NHS midwife for pointing out to me NHS protocol of how a VBAC (Vaginal Birth after Caesarean Section) should be handled and realised that I had been extremely lucky with the birth of our second child in carrying it off in a physiological, non-interventionist way. After a particularly stressful antenatal appointment in which I was told that I really should be receiving continual monitoring as soon as I was in established labour and would have a cannula inserted upon arrival (I was mentally la-la-la-ing with my fingers in my ears by this point), I decided it was time to have a conversation with someone who would explain the risks of VBAC to us and allow us to make up our own mind about the best way to bring our 3rd child into the world.

It was for this reason that I phoned Liz. I have know Liz Nightingale for some time. When I went very overdue with my first child, she took me under her wing (I’m allowed bird puns, I’m a Wren). This gave me an extra week of consideration before I ended up with an induction and the inevitable cascade of interventions that led to an emergency c-section. As someone who is horribly hospital phobic this was a very traumatic experience.

When we found out we were unexpectedly expecting our second child, Liz encouraged us to attend a Making Sense of Birth workshop run by Essence Midwifery Services. I remember one of the activities involved drawing out what came to mind when you thought of birth. The most striking thing about my picture (leaving aside the green vomit and the copious amount of blood) was the absence of a baby. Acknowledging that I had associated birth with pain and trauma, and not with new life, was the first step in a healing process that culminated in a very straightforward birth and a second beautiful daughter.

Anyway, back to the phone call…I think I was about 30 weeks pregnant. Liz agreed to come over to our house and talk through the risks of VBAC and the best ways to manage and minimise them. By the end of the evening Steve and I were certain that we would be better off having our baby at home. I could have gone back to my NHS midwife and insisted on a home birth, but I knew there would be resistance and I didn’t want to have a midwife in attendance who was not confident in HBAC (Home Birth after Caesarean Section) just because she had had so little experience of it. Within a few days we had employed Liz as our midwife and she took over all my antenatal care.

Well, Christmas came and went, as did my elder daughter’s 4th birthday. I was delighted that my antenatal care covered how I was feeling emotionally as well as physically as this meant that by the time I entered my 41st week of pregnancy, Liz was fully aware of how twitchy I was about going overdue.

On the morning of the 20th January, Steve declared that I would have the baby that day and decided not to go to work. I spent the morning making a gratifyingly complicated cake. Liz came over at lunch time and at my request gave me a stretch and sweep. She then sat and observed me for half an hour. (What she actually did was try to knit while my daughters climbed all over her). I just got on with my lunch. I decided that if I was going to have a baby that day, I had better get some rest, so I had a long snooze between about 3pm and 5pm. When I woke up, I moved from bed to sofa and proceeded to read Winnie-the-Pooh stories to my children. After 15 minutes of this, I realised that I was having to pause for breath due to contractions. Steve spotted this and suggested that he get dinner going while I phoned my friend who was going to look after the girls. After another 5 minutes I was having to stand up during contractions. Shortly after this I retreated to my bedroom, took a couple of paracetamol and phoned Liz. I believe I requested the TENS machine, but by this time I think I was kidding myself if I thought that TENS or paracetamol were going to be of any use. I remember thinking that I had mis-remembered how painful labour was, because when I had had my second child, it all seemed very manageable (I know I had been in the car parked outside Tesco’s on the way to the local hospital at least 6cm dilated and was still able to request the exact brand of crisps I required).

Steve convinced me that a hot bath would be a really good idea and filled the bath up to the top and helped me down the stairs to our bathroom. It was a bit after 6pm and I was vaguely aware that my friend was in the dining room helping my girls with their dinner and I was wandering about the house in my underwear – it took me well over a week to find my watch which I had taken off prior to getting in the bath. Steve brought me pizza and garlic bread and a piece of the cake I had made earlier in the day for me to eat whilst I soaked in the bath. Liz arrived at about 6.15pm and very calmly installed herself in the bathroom. I was relieved when she said that if I didn’t feel like getting out of the bath I didn’t have to. I had never seen what all the fuss was about water births before this point – I am now a convert! I could see her looking at me and looking at her watch and she was telling me how well I was doing and how the baby would be with us really soon. Steve was pressing down on my shoulders (on some acupressure point he had learnt) during each contraction. I had got to the point where I couldn’t face eating so I knew I must be fairly close to birthing our baby.

Liz needed to get a few more things from her car, so she left me briefly and call her colleague midwife Sarah Ifill to attend. I had been sat up in the bath but decided that I needed to lie down on my left and throw my right leg over the side of the bath. Sorry to get technical here, but on the next contraction the baby rolled from ROA to LOA the long way. Thankfully, Liz reappeared and I was able to request some gas and air, but I think that was the worst contraction and bad as it was, it was over in less than a minute. I was in very deep, hot water and leaning my head on the cold edge of the bath and had a cold flannel on the back of my neck and was drinking in gas and air (I love that stuff). I know I asked, ‘Do we have to?’ so I must have been zoning out. I announced that my waters had broken and Liz recorded the time as 7.36pm by calling the information to Sarah who was outside the bathroom writing notes. Within a few minutes I had birthed the head of my baby. That was the hardest bit and I felt that I had done enough and announced this. Liz told me that I had to get the rest of the baby out so I somewhat half-heartedly pushed with the next contraction and the baby slithered out at 7.47pm. Apparently it was a bit tricky for Liz as I was demanding she held my right leg up which didn’t leave her with free hands. Somehow she lifted the baby up into my arms and I felt down between his legs and as I’d suspected, but not known, he was a boy. Humphrey was very awake and we looked at each other in a surprised sort of way for a long time. Moments after he was born, my two big girls were brought in to see their baby brother.

Once his cord had stopped pulsing, Steve cut it and took Humphrey through to the sitting room. Liz helped me out of the bath and I staggered to the sofa where the girls were busy cuddling ‘their’ new baby. Humphrey then took his first feed and he latched on and sucked for ages. Eventually it was decided that I ought to get the placenta out and once that had been done (and my younger daughter had helped Liz examine it) I was tucked up in my bed with my baby. And that is where I stayed for the next week.

Liz’s postnatal care was superb and I have no doubt that it was her attention to detail and ability to include our whole family in her visits that made our transition from 2 to 3 children so easy.

Humphrey is now the most delightful three month old baby. We are very proud to call him a Purple Walnut Baby.

During the early hours of the morning of the 1st May I was woken with rushes every 10 to 15 minutes. They weren’t too strong so I stayed in bed and rested in between them. At around 4am I got up as I felt hungry and thought this may be ‘it’. After a snack the experienced Mummy in me thought I should be trying to sleep while I could so went back to bed. I could still feel the rushes coming but rested well between. We got up the next morning (Sunday) to sunshine. It felt like this would be a great day to meet you and I was excited. I told Daddy that I thought you would be born today and we started to get things organised. We called Nanny and Granddad around 10am and they came at 11am and took your big brothers away for the night to give us the chance to concentrate on you.

I called your Nanny and Auntie Laura at 11am and told them you would be coming soon. We agreed that they would come over around 12.30. Daddy and I sat and had a nice lunch whilst the rushes got slowly stronger and longer. Liz came to see us at around 1pm and by this time Auntie Laura and Nanny had arrived and were very excited! All was well and Liz did some checks and left us to get in to our groove. It felt good to be having you and I used a TENS machine to keep my mind occupied in these early stages.

As the time passed my rushes seemed to keep spacing out and it felt a little odd. I was a bit worried that maybe you wouldn’t come today and that this was all just the very early stages. I decided that maybe it would be a nice thing to have some time alone and went up to the bedroom. While I was alone the rushes seemed much stronger and I realised that maybe I was feeling a bit too observed downstairs. I went downstairs and told Daddy this and he came out in to the garden with me for a walk. Daddy chuckled at me while I was walking around the garden as I had ended up throwing such a mish mash of clothes on to go outside I looked like a bag lady! I had to tell Daddy not to make me laugh at this point as he was making my rushes much stronger every time I laughed along with him!

We agreed that maybe Nanny and Auntie Laura should go back to Nanny’s house for a while.

They didn’t mind and I felt better that they could have some dinner without feeling awkward. This was at around 4pm. Liz checked in with us every so often by phone and gave us some encouragement along the way. Daddy and I sat down to watch the Sunday afternoon movie (Evan Almighty). It was quite funny and helped to stop me clock watching.

Things got intense over the next hour and although the rushes were not sticking to a regular pattern I was feeling like it was time to ask Liz to come back. We called her around 5.30pm and she said to get in the pool if we wanted to. I did! We also called Nanny and Auntie Laura to come back and they arrived just after Liz at around 6.30pm. By this time I was pretty upset. I cried when I saw Nanny as I was struggling to get on top of the rushes and the irregular pattern of them wasn’t allowing me to anticipate the next rush. Over the next few hours we moved from the pool to the toilet and back a couple of times. I was using Entonox (a medical gas mixture of 50% oxygen and 50% nitrous oxide) to help with the pain and Daddy was helping me too. We went upstairs at around 8pm and I sat on the loo. Daddy cuddled me during the rushes and whispered encouragement in my ear. He was great and this is one of memories that I cherish from your birth.

I felt inside to see how close you were and could feel a big bubble of waters there. The last few rushes had stopped feeling like they were pushing you down and instead the energy felt like it was pulling up. I knew we had to release the waters to get you down where you needed to be. I asked Liz if she would please do this and she very gently released your waters. That felt great and although I was 6-7cms at this point I knew it was what we needed to do.

This was at 8.20pm and we decided to go back down to the pool. After your waters had released I felt you trying to find your way out. You twisted this way and that way inside me and I had to stay strong and trust that you would come out soon. Nanny and Laura had kept the pool warm for me and Daddy got in to the pool with me. He rubbed my hips and back during rushes and I felt good to know he was doing it with me all the way. Nanny and Laura sat on the sofa and gave me water when I needed it. I felt very loved.

I started to push and after a few rushes I had one which just kept on and on. I realised the only way to stop it was to just push and push. For what seemed like ages (but was around 5 minutes probably) I pushed and as I leaned back on Daddy I felt your head start to crown. I reached down to feel your soft hair and I knew it was nearly over. Nanny and Laura watched in amazement as your head and body emerged under the water right in front of them. Daddy and I scooped you up together and you were pink and beautiful.

We all laughed and cried together whilst we looked at you and fell in love. So you had arrived – our beautiful Clementine Rose on May Day at 8.58pm. Daddy cut the cord when you had received all your blood from your placenta and we hopped out of the pool. We snuggled together on the sofa and I looked at you and saw you were all there and perfect. The placenta came out easily and your gentle birth had meant no damage to me. We had chocolate cake and cups of tea and you had some skin to skin time with Daddy. You weighed 7lb 8oz.

However, babies don’t always arrive according to plan!

I woke up in the early hours of my due date feeling a little bit queasy. My daughter had had a tummy bug during the day so I dismissed the queasiness and went back to sleep. At 2am I woke up again and realised that the nausea was coming at very regular intervals. Liz had told me to call her if I felt even just a bit ‘different,’ so I rang her and apologised for waking her up. With typical Liz calmness she told me not to worry and she would come and have a little look at me. Throughout our conversation I felt like a fraud as I hadn’t had anything that felt like an actual contraction! I imagined that Liz would turn up and be bemused that I had confused a tummy bug with labour.

Liz arrived at our house just after 3am, and found me in a very different frame of mind to the me she had spoken to on the phone. My best friend had taken Eleanor to her house as we were still anticipating going to hospital at this point. Kelvin had got our hospital bags ready and filled Liz in on how I was doing. I was busy thinking that this labour felt very different to the labour I had with Eleanor – much more intense and faster. I was a bit concerned that I was feeling discomfort across my tummy constantly and asked Liz for reassurance that my C section scar was OK as no let up in pain between contractions is a sign of potential scar weakness. Liz commented that there was no let up between contractions because there was no ‘between!’ Then she hit me with the bombshell – in her opinion I was not going to get to the hospital, and she asked Kelvin and me to decide whether to attempt to get to hospital or whether to change our plan and carry on at home for an unplanned homebirth. My main concern for this baby and the reason I wanted to be close to hospital facilities was a worry that the baby wouldn’t come out – Eleanor had got well and truly jammed. Once I was aware that this baby was on his way in a hurry all my worries fell away and I was happy to be at home with Kelvin and Liz with all her experience.
So she called for Sarah, the second midwife, and began to prepare our bedroom for our baby’s arrival. Kelvin was kept busy fetching things from Liz’s car, and I carried on breathing and swaying in our bathroom and bedroom. The bathroom door in our house is only about 4’9” high and it was just the right height for rocking on – and that’s the only time it’s low height has ever been of use!

Once Sarah had arrived at our house and all of the homebirth kit had been brought upstairs into our very little bedroom there did not seem much room for everything that was going on. Sarah was preparing a corner of the bedroom to receive my baby, Liz was by turns offering tips and advice if she felt I needed help or leaving me to it when I was making good progress, and Kelvin was making good use of all the ‘man stuff’ that Liz had taught him prior to the big event. Both Liz and Sarah did not think it would be long before my baby was born, but the baby needed to get himself into a slightly better position and he spent some time squirming around to achieve this. Eventually I felt him making his way down – an experience that was new to me. I felt a huge rush of energy and excitement as it dawned on me that this baby was on his way out, and without any of the trauma of last time. I had only been in labour for a couple of hours, I wasn’t tired, and I could feel my baby helping me out with his movements. I was sitting on Liz’s birth stool in my own bedroom and Kelvin was holding my hips during contractions and rubbing my back between them. Liz told me to blow raspberries to try and slow things down, and try as I might nothing was slowing my baby down! He was born in rather a hurry just before dawn.

I felt absolutely elated that I had given birth to my son, who we named James, at home, without difficulty, and so quickly. So I was surprised when Liz told me I had experienced some tearing. I was on top of the world and can honestly say that while it was not without discomfort I would not call what I had just gone through painful. I had always imagined that women who suffered tears must feel excruciating pain, but here I was with tears and had not even felt them happening. Liz and Sarah were also concerned about the amount of blood I had lost in a short space of time, and rather than the natural third stage we had discussed they sprang calmly but quickly into action and delivered the placenta in a managed third stage. Just 4 minutes after giving birth to James I was on my own bed cuddling my baby and drinking a cup of tea – a world away from how things were after Eleanor’s birth. Slightly annoyingly, having given birth at home I still had to go into hospital for stitches to repair the tear. Liz called for an ambulance and in an ironic twist the driver knew exactly where my house was (dispelling my concerns that an ambulance would not be able to find us) as he had been called after the death of the old lady who lived in the house before us. It was fitting that in being called to take me to hospital he had seen a full circle of life in our little house. As the ambulance took us to hospital the sun was shining through the first misty morning of the autumn, and it seemed like the most perfect morning ever.

Liz continued to provide excellent care for us after James was born. She came to the hospital with us, helped plot my rapid escape, and visited us daily for the next week. I can’t begin to thank her enough for helping make the first moments of my son’s life one of the most exciting, peaceful and euphoric experiences I think I will ever have. Our family is complete now, but if I ever found myself expecting another baby, she would be the first person I would call (after Kelvin, of course!)

My due date was the 2^nd August and Liz explained that she would be away for the last two weeks of July and that it might be a good idea to share my antenatal care with her colleague Meg – the Oxford Midwife. I was happy to do this as I felt that I could then build a relationship with both of them in preparation for my birth. Over the next few months I met with them both regularly and bonded on a level I never expected. They understood me and the psychological journey that I was embarking upon. I trusted them both, they involved Gordon and Bertie every step of the way and they supported me as I had special heart scans, emotional wobbles or fears about my first homebirth.

On the whole I had a straightforward pregnancy and was excited about the impending new arrival. As I had had one baby two weeks ‘early’ and one baby a week ‘late’ we had no idea when this little bundle would put in an appearance. I was desperately hoping that it would be before Liz went on holiday but that date came and went and I started to think that she would miss my birth. I was absolutely fine with just having Meg, but my dream was to have the dynamic duo in attendance! Well clearly baby felt the same way and as Liz made her way back from Scotland, my contractions started. I think that she just about managed to get home and have a cup of tea before getting back in the car and coming to join Meg at my house at about 9pm.

My contractions had been fairly regular for a while and I was having about three in a ten minute period. They were quite short but fairly intense and I needed to concentrate on them as they hit their peak. I would lean against a wall as they started and swing my hips whilst breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth. Breathing was a big part for me and I used lots of the techniques that I had learnt during an antenatal yoga class. However I was still laughing and joking in between and so we couldn’t decide whether I was in established labour or not. After a few hours we sent Gordon to bed for a rest, with Meg saying that she would go and get him when things got ‘interesting’. I continued tackling each contraction by breathing through it but now Liz massaged my lower back as well as I had each one and this brought great relief. It became clear though that things were not progressing as quickly as we had all expected. I seemed to be getting long periods of rest followed by intense contractions and then rest again. It didn’t feel quite right.

Despite our reservations, Meg went and woke Gordon up after an hour or so, and I think at this point we were all still hopeful of meeting a baby before too long. By now I was getting tired and although I was feeling concerned by my lack of progress I was still reasonably upbeat. After a bit of discussion we decided to consider breaking my waters to see if that helped move things along. I was helped to the floor and Meg examined me. When she realised I was only 3cm dilated (actually 2cm but she lied to try and keep my motivation level up!) I was beside myself. Breaking my waters was not an option and I still had a way to go. I broke down. There was no way I could sustain the pain for hours and hours more. I was desperate and burst into tears. Luckily the relationship that I had with Meg and Liz meant that they knew me incredibly well and Liz used her knowledge of my bereavement to try and decipher what was going on with my body and not allowing my labour to progress.

Liz gave me a cuddle and suggested that I snuggle up on the duvet with Gordon and talk about Stanley and any fears that I had. Until that point, I didn’t realise myself that I had some deep rooted emotional stuff going on. Then it all made sense. Perhaps I wasn’t allowing my body to do what it needed to, to help our baby enter the world. I could feel parts of my body tensing and withdrawing with each contraction and it now appeared that I was terrified of allowing this baby out in case she was ill like her older brother had been. I couldn’t face losing another child. I couldn’t face any more heartache. Maybe psychologically I wanted her to remain in the safety of my womb. If Liz hadn’t had that personal connection to us as a family then I might still be labouring now!

Meg and Liz went to an upstairs bedroom and left us alone for a while to get to grips with the emotional rollercoaster we were on and I broke down and told Gordon how scared I was. I was also now exhausted and needed a break so we just lay for a while and I continued to breathe through my contractions. All of a sudden I got a second wind (literally, as I couldn’t stop burping!) and told Gordon to go and get Liz from upstairs as I was ready to start again. It was tough realising that I literally needed a new slate and I was going to have to start from the beginning but this time I was ready for whatever my head and body might throw at me.

Unfortunately Liz had returned with renewed vigour as well, and decided to get me into new physical positions that wouldn’t allow me to hold back. Out came one of Bertie’s small wooden chairs and as each contraction begun I lifted a leg on to the chair and swiveled my hips. It hurt a lot more but my goodness I knew that it was doing the job! Gordon massaged me and Liz encouraged me to start mooing, deep low sounds, during the out breath. I was no longer laughing and joking between each contraction and was more focused. Everyone encouraged me to eat a few bits of banana to keep energy levels up and I was drinking sugary drinks. I didn’t want to, but I knew I had to.

The hours continued to go by and although I intermittently had moments of desperation, exhaustion and total doubt in my abilities, Liz and Meg kept me (and toast maker extraordinaire Gordon) calm. I say calm, I did panic a few times but nowhere near as much as I could have done under the circumstances! I contemplated using gas and air but I thought that it would actually be a distraction and the combination of deep back massage and mooing was actually better for me.

After a while I went to the toilet (not for a wee if you get my meaning!) and afterwards, everything seemed to step up a gear. This time Liz had me going up and down my stairs sideways two at a time to get my pelvis opening and then at the top of the stairs I was doing deep squats whilst holding the banister. It was proper exercise! I can’t say any of it was enjoyable but my goodness it was effective and I definitely felt the intensity of my contractions step up a gear. I resumed my position of leaning over the back of the sofa during contractions and mooed my way through them. They were giving me very little respite by now, but Liz and Meg provided some relief by squeezing my hips together as I tackled each one. This was designed to manually open my pelvis and it seemed to do the trick. Either that, or they just pressed so hard that I focused on that rather than the pain! However I was still quite worried and asked Gordon whether he thought I should go to hospital. His resounding “no” was all I needed to convince me that I could still do this at home with no intervention.

As my contractions were now coming thick and fast, Meg suggested putting some frankincense on my hands for me to sniff as a way of bringing some calm to the situation. I wasn’t sure whether it would work, but had nothing to lose. It was amazing and genuinely brought me some peace. These women really do know their stuff thank goodness!

By now I was starting to feel intense pressure in my back and was in fact shouting the words “pressure, pressure”. Liz pressed her hands into my sacrum and told me to push back into her during the next contraction. I dutifully did as I was told and pushed as hard as I could against her hands. Gordon said that poor Liz was almost squashed into the wall such was my strength but boy did it work. As the clock flicked from 7.26 to 7.27 my waters broke with considerable force and with the next contraction the baby was out. It was 7.28. I was stood up as I gave birth to her, so Liz really did have to catch her, but luckily she has steady hands and a good grip! After a huge physical and emotional journey, our beautiful baby girl Cecily Kitty was born.

She was passed up to me and the sofa was quickly hauled up and turned the other way round so that I didn’t even have to move, just sit down where I was and cradle this precious wonder. I was elated. We enjoyed some amazing skin to skin contact and almost instantly this wonderful little being brought her parents some closure and above all some healing. It had been a harder labour than we expected and brought up issues I had never expected, but holding this baby girl in my arms was incredible and all I now felt was love.

I had decided that I wanted to deliver the placenta naturally and so Meg sat at my feet and waited patiently. After about 45 minutes I felt ready, and with each after pain I blew hard on my clenched fist and out it popped. Doing it in my own time and without intervention was great – so much more relaxed than in hospital. The cord had obviously stopped pulsing by now and was cold and white and no longer full of blood so Gordon was able to cut it. Cecily had managed to take everything she could from the cord and placenta and this was really satisfying.

We had snuggles, tea and tears and then Liz helped me upstairs for a shower. Being in your own home is so nice as you have no time scales, all of your personal belongings around you and a familiarity that brings with it that sense of calm. By the time I came back downstairs the house was immaculate and you would never have guessed I’d just delivered a baby in our living room! It meant that we could have Bertie home as soon as possible to meet his little sister and allow us to be a happy family once again.

I genuinely could not have done it without the experience and knowledge of my Batman and Robin and I will forever be grateful to them. The support that I have received since has not disappointed either. They have offered guidance and a shoulder to cry on as well as, naturally, outstanding professional advice. They clearly love their jobs and we love them! Thank you x x x x