Home, Sweet Homebirth Story

In a month and a half Small Girl will be one year old. It will be the first anniversary of something amazing, and I got so busy before and after that I never ended up blogging about it. Well, you're here now, so you may as well read about it - glad you clicked the link? This is a dolled up version of a story I posted in a forum last year, soon after the event - it's much more polished now!

Sometime in 2008 I had a moment of clarity, where I realised I could ask my body to let me know when I was ovulating, as I hadn't ovulated since 2005, when Oscar was conceived, I guess. I had been breastfeeding overnight and during the day and also co-sleeping from the day Boy-child was born, and this worked well with my body's rhythm for my fertility cycle. I had spoken with a couple of wise and intuitive friends about this and they concurred that this had been the case for them, with 3 kids each to help make their case.
I decided that my body's plan was in line with my own plan for a 3 plus-year age gap between my kids. Knowing I was to return to study, volunteer firefighting and horse-riding, I also knew that kids too close together would be unfair on everyone involved, as I'm not very zen under stress. I knew that for me it would be ideal to wait until our first had gone through that intense period of rapid development before having another little person whose needs would need close attention from mummy. I wanted to be as present as possible for the second baby and my body came to the party with my conscious mind by being 'infertile' naturally while I enjoyed Boy-child's first years.
In December 2008 I intuited a strong and compelling signal from within that ovulation had occurred, two and a half years since the boy's birth. I had been using a Mooncup, which is a menstrual cup made from silicone that not only saves the environment, but took me to a place of comfort with my own body and rhythm I had never enjoyed before and recommend to all women. Once I knew what had happened I then asked for my body to let me know when implantation had occurred.Tom had been wanting a sibling for the boy for some time...in vain, because my body and lactation were plugging along, of their own accord and duly ignoring his preference. Later, in January of 2009 I had one day where my pelvis just gave out and by the end of the day I couldn't walk without holding onto walls - something that hadn't happened since I was pregnant with Boy when I was dealing with excruciating Symphisis Pubis Dysfunction, or SPD. It was too much of a coincidence and the next day I was scheduled to ride my horse all morning at a riding club rally. I did that and came home and it was as if nothing had gone on the day before. So, I knew. That was my 'sign'.
I told Tom what I knew and he believed me (with not a semblance of 'yeah, yeah, that womany, airy fairiness crap'!), and we kept it to ourselves. For nearly 5 months. It was quite delicious, actually, to just know, the two of us, and not have to talk about it with anyone but our private midwife, and a bit later on, Katerina, who agreed to be part of our birthing team. I didn't really show until closer to 6 months in, so it was easy to pretend I'd been eating a bit healthier since the fires. I had been feeling untethered since the fires and my appetite took a hit - whether it was a combination of the fires or just early months of pregnancy I can't tell you - and my acquired nervous disposition saw me lose some weight during pregnancy, such that I appeared to be quite un-pregnant for some time. It was a great surprise when we announced the pregnancy to close family only, some time near the 18 week mark. If I'd had my way I would have just waited for our close family to notice my belly once it had popped out, but Tom was keen to avoid noses being put out of joint, so I relented and allowed the news to be told! It wasn't so much for secrecy that I wanted to keep it quiet, it was more in keeping with the kind of pregnancy and birth I wanted to have - private, quiet and intimate.
We decided before falling pregnant that the next pregnancy would not be scanned by ultrasound or prenatal testing, as the reading I had done, and meditation combined, were not in favour of 'routine' scans and testing. We would let this one do what it would do and roll with any punches coming our way. No testing for me meant that we couldn't then fall into the medical model of pregnancy and have doctors put the hard word on me based on their training and what they consider routine. So much has changed in birth and not all of it for the better - with so much evidence suggesting that medicalising birth is interfering with normal birth processes. Not for us, this medical intervention caper.
The pregnancy was eventful, and only in terms of what I did during that time - strike team duty during our bushfires in Victoria,
getting through uni semester before taking another intermission, going to three cities I'd never been to within 3 months (Brisbane for a quick escape in mid-June, Newcastle to visit Paul and Dan in early August and Canberra for the Birth Rights rally on September 7th) and starting up my singing gigs with Brett, with gigs in late May, end of June and late September (in our duo, Black Pepper) after a 3 year absence from the acoustic stage.
Anyhoo, I had spent a lot of my pregnancy pretending I wasn't pregnant and then, come mid-September there was nothing planned, nothing in my diary...it was great! I nested in a way I didn't do with Boy-child and just thought about the ambience for the homebirth I was wanting, gathering materials, music and information to make it what I wanted. I made up birthing oils for massage and spray mists and some post-natal concoctions for relaxation and nurturing. Under no illusions that Tom would utilise his massage experience on me, I massaged myself...a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. Oh, and I DID pay for some pregnancy massage from a local practitioner, as well - I'm not silly!
We were working off LMP (Last Menstrual Period) for due date...which came and went with no sign of labour, though in September I had felt myself dilate and also felt Braxton Hicks contractions that I didn't feel with my first pregnancy. I told Tom that if the baby didn't come early, it would be late, and not be born near the LMP due date.
All of the first week in October yielded nothing and Tom was keen not to get up for work each morning, hoping to call in for his 3 weeks leave. The night before the estimated due date we did our second belly cast (the first was a dismal failure) and thought "Right, it can happen now". On the Friday we took a last minute opportunity for a family pregnancy session with an ABA (Australian Breastfeeding Association) photographer, Susan D'Arcy, and thought, "Right, it can happen now".
Here is a sample of the simple and beautiful photos Susan took of us:

On Saturday I completed the first painting I had attempted in about 2 years and thought, "Right, it can happen now". Tom was forlorn to have to front up to work again on Monday, the 12th.
I had an appointment at home with my midwife, Helen Brown of Midwives Naturally, and told her about my intuiting the implantation date, so she did a calculation from that and said my due date would then have been the 11th...so not so 'overdue', after all. I wasn't fretful or anxious...just bored. EVERYTHING was in place; trial run of the birth pool had been done, I had my drinks and supplements all ready to go, music playlist prepared, batteries charged for torches and cameras etc.
Through Tuesday night I had some more Braxton Hicks contractions and when I woke to pee at about 3.50am they were stronger and regular. The remained regular at 6-10 minutes for the next 3 and a half hours. At 3 hours I contacted Helen and Katerina who would be attending to support us as well as Oscar. We all remained hopeful. I lit my candles, put on my mantra music, put the rose water in my fuchsia glass water bottle and rubbed some birthing oil into my body, before wrapping around my body pillow on the couch to wait. Alas, by daybreak the whole thing had backed off, as I extinguished unneeded candles, one by one. I was SO disappointed, because I had been working through my Sleep Breathing and Deep Breathing (HypnoBirthing tools I learned with the first pregnancy) and visualising outcomes. Katerina came round, anyway (lucky she wasn't working that day), after Tom had already called work to start his leave (boy, did I feel bad) and we decided, after mentioning that I had been tossing up what movie to see at the cinema, to watch Mao's Last Dancer in the afternoon (it was Boy-child's creche day and I had been meaning to catch a film for months). I felt flat and rejected by my baby! But I also intuited that my baby wanted to come at night...maybe it was all those Buffy episodes I'd been watching on DVD of a late evening?
Resting after a false start
Thursday morning and Tom asked if anything was happening...well, donchya think I would say something if it were? We decided to bite the bullet and go to Baby Bunting to get this car seat for Boy because he was, by now, unmistakeably too tall for his seat at the time (well, I borrowed my mum's and converted 'his' back to a baby seat) and then to Fountain Gate shopping centre to do shopping for the pantry (woefully empty). It was so hideous - I thought Knox was bad enough (where I stick to the 'new' atriums when I go with Boy, because I'd had to get things in recent times and I had been averaging maybe 3 trips a year prior to that), but Fountain Gate has some truly grotesque acoustics. We all got overloaded and cranky - our humours kept up only by a delicious serve of thickshake and icecream at the food court.
We got our shopping done, headed back to the car and I felt light cramping again. I had a couple of tightenings on the way home, got home, lurked on forums and Facebook for a while and Tom organised dinner (the good egg; he'd been ace taking over from me for about two weeks, since I couldn't stand up to complete a meal despite best intentions, due to the SPD). From 6pm I was timing the tightenings and breathing through them. For about 45 mins they were 10 mins apart and dinner was served. Tom and Boy were due to leave for a swimming lesson about 20 mins drive away from home, in Ringwood and Tom asked if he should go. They'd be back by about 8.45pm and I deemed it 'safe'. Tom called before hopping in the pool and I said they were about 8-10 mins apart. He said he'd get home and tidy up because I said the floor was crunchy again and in a state (not just fussy pregnancy nesting, the floor was awful because my pelvis wouldn't allow me to clean the house properly...next time I'll hire a cleaner). I couldn't wait and started sweeping the house (it wasn't very big, but collected dog hair and dust because we lived on an unmade road) with a vigour, because the broom became my 'dance partner' during tightenings. Finally, clean floor!
This was my 'altar', where my aromatherapy and light therapy was set up, alongside the birthing goddess (who was on loan to me to help guide me through the processes)

I lit candles, dispensed some aromatherapy and lathered in birthing oil again, to my music (and the new music I had been given the day before by my massage therapist) of hypnotic and soothing Mantra by Deva Premal, after fitting the Chinese red paper lantern to the light fitting of the lounge room. By the time the boy-types got home at 8.30 tightenings were 5 mins apart and sharp buggers. I tried to put Boy-child to bed and he was being a bit difficult, whiny and un-sleepy. I read to him and then he asked me to read him My Brother Jimi Jazz, about a homebirthed sibling. Once finished, I turned out the light, he had 'Babu' (his reference for breastfeeding and boobs) and was still fidgeting. I was getting a bit cranky because all I wanted to do was stand and rotate my hips. Half way through a sharp tightening and deep breath I felt a 'pop', and a slight trickle. I leapt out of bed (to the boy's dismay), went to the loo and told Tom. It was more show, the washable pad was wet, but not saturated and I told Boy to hop into our bed if he'd go to sleep. 5 min intervals were increasing to 3-5 mins. I had already called Helen and Katerina to let them know that things had started again, whilst Tom was at the pool. Boy-child would still not settle, which was unusual - he knew something was up because I was being so erratic...and all I wanted to do was go into my 'zone'. I told Tom to just leave him stay up and to call Katerina to come. At this point he also asked if he should call the midwives to come...I couldn't say 'yes' quickly enough, but then saying anything was becoming a secondary priority. I was hanging onto walls and furniture to swing my hips around to get through some thick and fast surges (Hypno speak for 'contractions'). I told Tom he had to get the birth pool going and, before I knew it, it was filling. Just as it was nearly ready, Katerina arrived and took over with teh boy - she was just so the right person to ask to perform this role.
She took him to his room and that's when I needed to get in the water...instant relief, Sweet Mother Of All That Is Good And Right In The World! The water helped deal with the surges incredibly well, because I was losing it (or thought I was) - I was getting teary thinking I had lost all my HypnoBirthing skills in the intervening years and wondering why it seemed more difficult this time (or so I thought, again).
The midwives arrived but I could barely look up to acknowledge them. Boy had hopped into the pool a couple of times before this and when he got too boisterous was plucked out, with much protest - sheesh, that was hard to deal with at the same time. But my committment to have him there remained. At one point I allowed myself some comic relief when he ducked under my arm and attached himself to my breast - scuba Babu! No-one else knew what he was doing until I said "he's attached"...even then I don't think they believed it (though his Daddy did).
Tom stayed kneeling in front of me with his arms around me and head on my shoulder as a counterbalance, every once in a while telling me I was doing well. The midwives said the same and prompted me to keep my bum down in the water. Boy-child was in and out like a freaking yo-yo and it was all I could do not to snap at him. Little blighter was trying to inspect my perineum to see what was happening!

I told everyone that I wanted to bail, and as soon as I said that I realised I may not have that much longer to go. I had no idea what time it was. I then remembered some reading I had done in those last few weeks about a midwife encouraging birthing women to feel inside the vagina for the progress of the baby and that feeling the baby's head had been motivation to press on peacefully and confidently. I felt inside with my middle finger and thought I felt nothing...but then, I felt something! The tip of my finger found a slimy surface that felt round! Two surges later I felt again and reported quietly to Tom that I felt it between my middle knuckle and the base of my finger. The next surge (by this time between 1-2 mins apart) brought it to my middle knuckle. Wanting to wait another couple of surges before checking again I decided against that and checked at the next...Bloody Nora, this baby was at my first knuckle!
From here on in my breathing sounds became moaning sounds (and upon watching teh replay via video Katerina took, most of the noise must have only been happening in my head) and I felt I was losing the plot again - the surges were unrelenting and I could barely keep up with the momentum. I religiously told myself that breathing was the answer, just keep breathing and I'd get through it, that it couldn't be much longer. Boy-child thought it would help to periodically force feed me nuts and dried fruit, so I obligingly opened my mouth, then gave the contents to Tom when Boy turned away (just wasn't in the mood, but couldn't reject his gestures!). He also tipped water down my throat and both my hands were holding me up, so stopping him was a problem - until Tom gently sorted him out.
There was a head at the opening of my vagina (or birth canal, depending on how delicate you are about these things) and it stayed there...I wanted to bear down and breathe it out like I had with Boy...but the bugger wasn't moving at the rate I preferred - it just hung around at the opening, surge after surge. It must have been about 4 or 5 surges (though Tom reckons it was less) and the midwives guided me to hold the head and go slow - the right words at just the right time; I got straight back into my Birth Breathing, creating a 'J' shape with my spine to my tailbone, and a midwife pushing my bum back into the water to help me. There were photos being taken, mirrors and torches being held and things explained to Boy-child. I was back in my zone and determined to just breathe the kid out. At one point I heard Tom tell me "it's a girl" and wondered how on earth he could know that from the face being out (turns out he said "that's the girl" to encourage me, I realised later). So, in my head, 'it' had become 'she'.
Once the head was out I felt better, but still dealing with fast and furious surges. Eventually I said I just wanted her out and the midwives got me to turn around, facing up, and guided her out - she was kicking like a dolphin and I was just 'over' the whole sensation.
Then, there she was, on my chest - my living, breathing new baby, not making much noise and me breathing on her face, under instructions. We all sighed at the sight of her as we gathered around to see what I had made.
Boy was mesmerised and we were all relieved. The midwives informed me that it had taken 2 hours and 15 mins from established labour to birth...huh? No wonder it was ouchy! It was 11.20pm and it was still the day after the 'false alarm'.
More surges came for the placenta - I was not overly joyed about this and complained that I hadn't had to go through that last time (postpartum hemorrhage meant I'd had a managed third stage that was a bit of a blur). Again, I was guided in how to bring the placenta out. Again, sweet relief!
Boy hopped into the water and was swimming around in it again, meeting his little sister and showing off his fishness. Yes, he was swimming with vernix, but he didn't care. Our little white dog, Coco, had been sitting faithfully by the birth pool for much of the labouring time, and I appreciated her mammalian presence.
We were helped from the pool to my couch, where we just took each other in for ages. By the time I was helped to bed it was 1am and I was doped up on some pain killers for the after-pains.
It was me, my new baby girl with no confirmed name, and my fella, with Boy asleep in the next room crashed out from the experience. The midwives said everything I did had been ideal. I was centred, and serene and keeping noise low and constructive; every once in a while humming to the mantra melody, as I had been listening to mantra for months. There was no tearing, not even grazing this time - just some bruising, which healed within days from using a herbal recipe I dipped overnight pads into and froze (much nicer than frozen water in condoms!).
Well, the story wasn't supposed to be very long because the labour wasn't very long...but the birth was part of a journey that needed telling, too. We chose the right people to be with us and we had learned so much about birth during the first pregnancy and resolved so much by the second that we were prepared for what homebirthing would do for our lives. I knew it was my destiny, as I would muse about my grandmother birthing all nine of her children in a tiny house in a small Honduran village, aided by local and experienced birth attendants. All live births, and only one of her children passed away (in 1992) before she did in 2003, but that's another story. I only knew my grandmother for 6 weeks in 2002/2003, and she would never know, by the time she passed, in our winter of 2003, that she inspired me to birth in an uninterrupted way, with faith in my body and my baby's intelligence to birth herself.
I achieved my goal - to birth at home, in water, avoiding the need to get into a car during established labour, with my vivacious son witnessing the entrance of his much-wanted sibling and his daddy, who wanted the sibling more than any of us! I felt pretty peachy and 'zen' about it in the following weeks and months...hell, I still do. And 'zen' was the ultimate aim - even though it was fast and hard, I remained true to my aims and a peaceful beginning was experienced by Girl Face; my second water baby and first homebirth.