The birth story of my second baby - a powerful, healing homebirth

The birth of my second son was simultaneously my fastest and slowest birth.

It began when I was 37 weeks, with that first contraction. The vibes were right - Taylor Swift was playing on Spotify, I was dancing in the kitchen with my toddler whilst cooking dinner. Lights were low, I'd had a rare nausea-free day, oxytocin was flowing. I got excited when the second contraction came about 20 minutes later. Was this the start? Was I going to meet my baby soon? I was also immediately anxious, as my doula Lucinda wasn't back in the UK yet and I desperately wanted her to be at the birth.

Technically yes, this was the start, in the loose sense of the word. I would be pregnant for another 3 weeks.

I knew they weren't Braxton Hicks, which I'd been experiencing since early pregnancy. These contractions made me stop and take notice. They were rhythmic and predictable, and they tended to come late in the evening. But every morning I would wake up still pregnant, which was particularly hard on the days I'd wake up and vomit due to HG (see HG & Me.)

Over the next few weeks it was a battle. I reminded myself that my baby and body knew what they were doing, whilst also doing everything I could to try and get this baby out. I repeated affirmations that my baby would come when they were ready whilst drinking my raspberry leaf tea and trying to force down dates if my nausea could handle it. I kerb-walked to pick my son up from nursery and experienced contractions during parent handover. I did the Miles Circuit over and over again. The days I did the Miles Circuit were usually the days that I thought things were happening, and the contractions would continue late into the night. Inevitably I'd fall asleep, and I'd wake up poorly rested and frustrated.

During this time the support of my wonderful doula Lucinda was invaluable. The voice notes and texts reminding me to be patient, to trust my body and that I was so close to the end got me through very low, teary days. She reminded me that every extra day that baby spent cooking was a day they would be better prepared for the transition to the outside world. That every day spent contracting was productive to my body.

The day before my due date, I had acupuncture in the morning. I told her of the success of getting me into labour the first time, not expecting it to work again. I went to the garden centre a few hours later, and something felt different. I was walking round with my partner and just said to him "I need to go home". I could feel the usual tightening, but nothing dramatic. We picked up my son from nursery, and again the usual contractions and tightening. But something felt off. The tightenings didn't stop. I put my son to bed, fully expecting for things to peter off as they usually did. In my head, I had a funny persistent little voice saying "4am. 4am. 4am". I thought maybe I was manifesting a 4am birth. In the next few hours I just couldn't get 4am out my head. At 10pm I called my mum - I had a feeling, and just in case I asked her to come and get my son. When she arrived, and saw me leaning against the wall for support, she knew. My very bleary, confused son was woken up and went off to his Oma's house for a sleepover. I kissed him goodbye and had a little cry that it might have been the last time we'd spent as a family of three.

Again, the tightenings didn't stop. I willed them to continue, and then regretted it when they came. At around 11pm I called the Birth Centre and was so happy to hear the voice of my community team colleague Vicky, and even happier when she said my other teammate Beth was on shift with her, who I'd told throughout my pregnancy I was manifesting she'd be there for my birth. I told Vicky that I was just giving her a heads up that I was contracting irregularly, but didn't think I was actually in labour yet. The pain was very manageable, the only difference was that it was persistent. Around 3 in 10, which would usually mean attending triage or having a midwife come out, but I knew it wasn't time. I remembered from my first birth that for me, 4 in 10 was my norm when I was in established labour.

They slowly petered off for an hour, and I nearly texted Vicky that it was a false alarm and not to worry. My 4am premonition seemed laughable. At 1am they suddenly came back, a lot stronger. I called Lucinda, my doula, who gave me some much needed support over the phone. She suggested I got in the shower, which I did. The shower was incredible. I could feel how powerful the contractions were becoming, but they didn't hurt. I relaxed into each wave as they came, rotating through my favourite affirmations in my head. My hypnobirthing techniques helped me to relax to the point of zero pain, just intensity.

At 2am, the contractions slowed down to a stop, and I was so frustrated. I crab walked up and down the stairs. I had a little cry. I bounced on my birth ball. I lay down on the sofa. And I told my partner that I gave up trying to have this baby and that I wanted to go to bed now. So I did. I lay down in bed and went to sleep.

Suddenly, I woke up to the most unbelievably strong contraction that required me to vocalise to get through it. There was a popping sensation, a gush of water, and the knowledge that my baby was on the way. I looked at my phone for the time - exactly 4am. On the dot.

I didn't want to get up because I knew what was coming. No more cushion meant the contractions were about to get a lot stronger. I called Lucinda whilst lying down and my partner tried to protect the bed from the amniotic fluid (I'd forgotten to put an inco sheet under me, but thankfully there was a waterproof sheet on the mattress!). She said she was all ready to go and would be with me in 45 minutes. I called Beth on the Birth Centre and told her my waters had gone, but that I wasn't contracting yet. She suggested that her and Vicky make their way over and I told her not yet, I didn't even have any contractions, I'd been asleep! I stood up, went to the shower and nearly fell to the floor from the strength of my next contraction. And they kept coming. Wave, after wave, after wave. I shouted to my partner to call Birth Centre back, and the midwives were on their way.

At this point I became animalistic. Roaring my way through the contractions and falling to my knees in the hot shower which provided very welcome relief. My incredible partner rushed down 2 flights of stairs to fill the birth pool, hear me start to roar and run back up 2 flights of stairs to support me. He did this every few minutes for about half an hour whilst the birth pool filled up downstairs.

I refused to the leave the shower, the contractions were coming thick and fast and I could feel the baby coming. I told my partner we might be doing this alone, and he held my face and told me we can do this. With a bit of courage and incredible speed for a very pregnant woman, I made it down to the living room and the pool as the next wave hit me. The lights were low, affirmations were on the wall, all the equipment and space for the midwives was laid out. My partner had done an incredible job, it was beautiful. Unfortunately I couldn't see much of it as I laboured with my eyes firmly shut, closing out the world around me. I was on another plane of being, just me and my baby doing this together. Another 10 minutes later and Lucinda came through the door. I felt such incredible relief that she was here that I nearly cried if not for the next contraction hitting. I felt a palpable reduction in pain with her gently pouring warm water, love and support onto my back. At this point, my body started to push involuntarily.

The midwives arrived shortly after and Beth (my entonox angel) ran through the door with gas and air, shoving it in my hand as I roared a hello her way. She knew my birth plan well.

Every time a wave hit me I let my body do its thing, breathed the gas and air and vocalised a guttural, low AHHHHHHHHHHHH. I never understood telling people to be quiet whilst labouring, I felt like I'd explode if I didn't shout the intensity out my body.

I was leaned over on all fours over the edge of the pool and remember telling Beth I wasn't moving so good luck trying to find baby's heartbeat. I could feel baby coming, and time became immaterial. It was both seconds and days that I spent roaring in the pool in my head. As baby descended, my partner leaned over my body and held me. Lucinda told me how powerful I was, poured water over my aching lower back and cooled my neck with welcome cold flannels. I felt loved, protected, and safe. As my body pushed with expulsive force I could feel baby descend, and return, descend, and return. Rocking his way slowly and gently down. It didn't feel gentle to me and I persistently told him off and said I was done. He needed to come out, now.

I felt baby crowning, and I gently let him make his way out. The 'ring of fire' felt quite manageable in the warm water. His head was born, and everyone exclaimed that he was alert, awake and looking directly at them as he floated in the water between worlds. The pictures are incredible! Eyes wide open, hair floating about. The rest of his body soon followed, and he was born at 0554am on his estimated due date. Less than 2 hours after my waters broke and I was asleep in bed.

The relief was immense. I was exhausted, ecstatic, and just riding the absolute high that my birth was. I hadn't quite come down to earth yet. I held my baby to my chest as he very loudly protested at his expulsion from his nice, comfortable womb. I kissed my partner and said "I did it". I was so proud of myself. I actually did it.

Instinctively I offered baby my breast in the pool to console him and he started to feed straight away. Just for a couple of minutes, enough for me to feel my placenta needed to come and I stood in the pool for Beth to catch it. We left baby attached and I went to lay on the sofa and cuddled him on my chest, next to my placenta in a bowl, amazed at the raw power and intensity of birth. In my own living room. An otherworldly experience.

I decided to go for the syntometrin injection in my leg as I wasn't happy with how much I felt I was bleeding. My midwives double checked I definitely wanted it as they knew I had received it without consent in my first birth. They were fine with the amount of blood, but I went with my gut and asked for the injection, which was given. I declined the recommend stitch to my tear as I knew I'd heal better on my own, and it wasn't causing a problem. I still wasn't comfortable with how intense the afterpains were, and the little waves of lochia I felt (which feel a lot more than they actually are!), so I went off to my downstairs loo to empty my bladder which resolved the issue. Sitting there on my toilet, alone for the first time in about 9 months, was such a strange feeling. A soft, squishy belly. A feeling of emptiness that's difficult to capture. I returned to the sofa, to my baby and tied off his cord, cut it myself. Everything was cleaned up around me as I rested, my partner and Lucinda grappling with the pool. I was fed grapes like a Roman goddess, baby feeding at the breast.

At about 8.30am, everyone was gone. It was quiet again. Just me, my partner and my baby. Resting, relishing, reliving. The sun was up, shining into my living room. You'd never know a birth had just happened there if it wasn't for me and baby snuggled into blankets. I was changed, healed, and so grateful for everyone around me.

I asked for my first baby home, and we began life as a family of four. On an ordinary Thursday. At home. Just us.

Exactly as I'd planned.