by Kerrie

I wrote my original birth story only a few weeks after my son's birth. Since then, I have reflected on the experience so much more in depth, and feel that there are parts I left out that are essential the tale. I have edited in my after thoughts in italics, so you can see my personal processing, and how my views and emotions have changed over the past 5 months.

Where does one start when writing a birth story? How do you begin to put into words that incredible series of events and emotions that led to you holding a baby- your baby- in your arms? I've replayed Elijah's birth in my mind many times, but still find myself wondering how to kick it off in writing.

I'd been extremely lucky to have a beautiful, healthy, smooth first pregnancy. Most of the time, I'd truly felt amazing, and had totally adjusted to life with a bump (even the funny bits like not being able to tie my shoelaces properly!) I'd enjoyed every new discovery, and soaked up all the information I could on pregnancy, birth and parenting. Throughout pregnancy, my Mum had been great as my main support person.

Indeed my Mum was fantastic support in many aspects- complimenting me on my changing figure, choosing cloth nappies with me, and sharing my excitement. I have been single since conception pretty much, but Mum ensured I never felt alone on my journey. But there were times her fears, doubts and concerns crossed over into my 'birth mind.' When I mentioned I wanted to birth at home in a birth pool, she became panicked. 'But what if something goes wrong? We're so far from hospital... Kezz it's so risky!' My heart sank that she wasn't confident in my body to birth. I then began to think 'maybe she's right.' I started to believe it was too optimistic to think I could birth at home without a drama. Being my first baby and all, certainly it couldn't all go smoothly. So I 'compromised' by booking into the birth centre within the hospital.

I was relieved they had birth pools, so I could still fulfil my desire of birthing in water. I went along to the monthly then weekly antenatal visits at the Ob/gyn dept at hospital, and had a different midwife every time. I would feel elated for having a lovely one one week, and disappointed for having a not-so-wonderful one the next. I was told at the very end of my pregnancy, that the birth centre actually offers their own antenatal care- with only 2 midwives per 'patient.' I was furious no one had told me this earlier, so I could have at least built up a relationship with my careproviders, and had some continuity! Anyway, my 'EDD' came and went (how loosely I use that term now!) and I started to feel pressure to perform- phone calls from family and friends, constant 'When are you due?'s from strangers. But mostly, pressure from hospital.. A midwife told me they generally like to induce after 14 days, so as each day passed I grew nervous.

Mum came with me to hospital for my second post dates check up at 11 days past the EDD. I'd agreed to a stretch and sweep at my previous visit, anything to encourage labour and avoid induction.

The stretch and sweep was excruciating and humiliating. I had a nurse hold my knee down, whilst a stranger put her fingers inside me. It was cold and it hurt... I felt like I was going to vomit, and my body trembled. It felt like it took forever. When she had finished she whipped off her glove and I was blushing red hot.

Although I was 2 cm dilated and there had been two mucous shows no contractions had arrived. I'd tried some gentle encouragement at home, with lots of pelvic rocking on my birth ball, belly dancing and drinking raspberry leaf tea but bub continued to stay snug within my womb. I wanted everything to happen naturally and without intervention- drips and gels certainly weren't part of my birth plan. But as we inched toward 14 days past EDD I was aware of the small chance of my ageing placenta not providing the food/oxygen my baby would need and it frightened me a little.

Actually, it frightened me ALOT! I was handed brochures by the nurse which contained scaremongering information about placentas breaking down when 'overdue.' Although my logical mind knew it was very unlikely, it was a thought that eroded away at the back of my emotional mind and tainted my decision making skills. I allowed myself to become convinced that if I waited for things to happen on their own, my baby could starve inside me, and I wasn't prepared to risk it.

I'd told Mum on the way to the hospital that I was prepared to discuss induction for the following week, and thankfully she told me she'd support me through either decision. Thanks Mum!

Although I appreciate her invaluable support, now how I wish she had said to me 'No way hose! Don't let them near you with a 10 foot pole!' I had 2 had shows already, and was 2 cm dilated. So clearly my body was preparing for labour on it's own. If only I had trusted and had faith in myself for the process to continue, and if only I had the guts to say no to induction.

We arrived at hosp and were greeted by the nurse and Doctor, and after the general wellbeing questionnaire and urine sample check (which I always found humiliating, carrying around a container of pee in a public hospital) I was hooked up to the EFM machine and we observed baby's heart rate, movement etc. All appeared to be fine, which although I was fairly confident about anyway, was re-assuring to see. The Doctor then palpated my tummy and bub felt to be in a good position also. She asked if I'd like another internal exam to see if I had dilated any further since last check up, and I gave the nod as I felt quite comfortable with her and was curious to know myself.

This is total bullshit. I was NOT comfortable at all, but she put me on the spot I couldn't muster the courage to say no. She clearly seemed to think it was a god idea. I hated the first one, and felt fear of the pain again, but I nodded anyway, my inner good girl not wanting to disagree and rock the boat.

During the exam, she told me I was still 2 cm and asked if I'd like another stretch and sweep to try to help things progress. I agreed (that damn inner good girl again!), and during the S&S she said excitedly 'Oh there's a lovely bulging waters in front of baby's head!' It felt very strange that someone was so close to touching my baby's head! Strange isn't quite the word. How about invasive?

We discussed our plan from thereon, (actually SHE discussed the plan. She told me we'd 'need to plan induction now') and I regretfully agreed to book in for an induction the following Monday. I explained I'd booked into the Birth Centre rather than Delivery Suite, and asked weather I was still able to birth there if labour was induced. Thankfully yes, so the Doctor went downstairs to arrange with the Birth Centre staff an induction for Monday. She returned a few minutes later with a strange smile. 'Kerrie, I'm really sorry but we can't book you in for early next week, but if you like, we can do an amniotomy today. How do you feel about that?'

Today? Now? Oh my god. I felt stunned. After weeks and weeks of waiting and counting down to this very day, it all suddenly seemed to be happening so very fast. I asked the for some time to think it over and talk about it with my Mum, who looked about as shocked as me. Mum basically sat and listened carefully as I analysed my thoughts aloud and tried to weigh everything up. On one hand I was scared (petrified, rather) of an induction sparking a stream of further intervention, eventually resulting in a traumatic birth for us both, but on the other hand I was scared of continuing on in the shaky territory (now I see it wasn't half as shaky as the hospital made it seem!) of post dates. I decided to agree to the amniotomy and hope for the best. (I now realise what a bad decision that was.) As the Doctor had clearly felt the bulging membranes, an amniotomy could be performed and I tried to be confident and positive that things would progress without further help from thereon. Mum squeezed my shoulders as I gave the Doctor a nervous nod.

Mum went back to the car to get my hospital bag, which thanks to some intense nesting, had been organised, packed and ready to go for weeks. My heart began to race a little as I was led by a nurse to the Birth Centre. My nerves blended with huge excitement, I'd soon be meeting my little boy, it was all so surreal! I was lucky to be given the biggest room in the Birth Centre, it was lovely, not hospitally at all. (I'm bullcrapping again. Although much more pleasant than delivery suite, this room had none of my familiar smells, cushions, blankets. It was totally foreign. I knew very well that behind the pretty cabinet was the gas. I knew that this hotel room like space, was indeed within a hospital, therefore if I changed my mind later and wanted drugs, they'd be easily accessible. No amount of careful decor wiped away the fact I was within a hospital.)

There was a nice big bath, shower, and bed, and plenty of room to make ourselves at home. Mum returned and we began to get really excited, the smiles started and soon we couldn't wipe them away! (I was so excited to be soon holding Elijah, but my insides still swirled with adrenalin and fear.) We spread out the food, aromatherapy oils and cds etc, and I changed into a loose nightie whilst we waited for the midwife to arrive. Soon Fiona, the midwife came and I felt a little at ease once I met her- she was lovely.

We chatted about my birth plan, and the amniotomy... what would happen, the sensations I'd feel etc. Fiona showed me the amniotomy hook- which looked rather like a crochet needle! (It was frightening.) Once I was comfy, I laid on the bed and breathed deeply as Fiona first did an internal then the amniotomy. It was several uncomfortable minutes (excruciating, worse than the stretch and sweep... my eyes teared) before she finally finished, she was ultra surprised how tough and resilient my membranes seemed, she couldn't seem to catch the hook. She had to settle with a small graze/tear, not quite the gush we'd expected, so I put a maternity pad on and kept an eye on the fluid loss.

The fluid stayed at a steady slow trickle, and was clear, great news! Fiona left us to it for a while, so I put on a Jack Johnson cd and had some lunch, sunlight streaming through the gaps in the blinds. I began to feel some very gentle tightenings at around 12.30, but they were so gentle I wasn't sure if it was my mind playing tricks on me! I asked Mum to jot them down on the notepad just in case. Fiona returned and hooked me up to the EFM machine and indeed, the results showed mild contractions had started. Woohoo!

Fiona suggested a shower or a walk to help speed things up, so I enjoyed a long hot shower and then we went for a long walk around the hospital grounds. This really helped, as on the way back to the room I actually had to stop walking during contractions, they were developing a little bit of a bite. I'd always wondered what a contraction would feel like, and the best way I'd describe it is a wave of period-pain washing over my body, rising to a peak of intensity then fading away again.

We returned to the room and Fiona was really happy to hear things were progressing well. (So was I- looked like I could do this on my own without drips or gels after all!) It was time for her shift to end though, so we were introduced to Michelle who'd be looking after us from hereon. (Michelle was very hard for me to gel with. I didn't feel very comfortable with her and was upset to have her rather than Fiona.) Michelle floated in and out of the room, leaving us to eat, drink & labour freely in-between. Labouring was lovely , I had several showers and played my favourite cds- Mum called home to tell my siblings she may not be home for a while due to exciting news, and we laughed and talked between my contractions.

As the contractions slowly built in intensity over time, and became a little more frequent, the hours seemed to blend together and I lost track of time all together. Mum diligently recorded each contraction on paper, whilst I sipped cool water continually and paced, sat, stretched, & breathed. It was as if I'd stepped into some strange time warp, I forgot about the clock for a while and began to focus only on what I was feeling. (Forgetting about the clock was hard, because it was in such a central space, and the midwives kept looking at it every time they checked my progress so I was always very time conscious.)

Michelle began to stay with us for longer periods as she realised things were intensifying a bit, and she kept an eye on baby's heartbeat with a Doppler after contractions. She asked me if I was aware of the Vit K and Hep B vax offered to all newborns, and I said I'd decided against both for my baby. She seemed most surprised about the Vit K (actually, she was quite rude and made it obvious she disapproved of my choice), and disappeared for a few minutes, returning with a NICU nurse who 'counselled' me on my decision. The counselling was basically a subtle attempt to scare me into changing my mind, but I stood firm on my decision. (I was experiencing quite strong contractions at this point, and felt it really disrespectful to try and convince me out of my decision whilst I was so vulnerable! I showed my annoyance at this.)

Mum and I began to burn my aromatherapy oils and I used the birth ball for a while to sit and rotate my pelvis. Labour progressed beautifully, contractions became more painful but it was a good pain, a productive pain. I felt most comfortable standing with the increasing intensity, legs shoulder width apart, leaning on a bench covered with a soft towel. As each contraction peaked, I laid my head in my folded arms on the bench and moaned a little. I really went into myself, into my own private world. Mum simply sat close by me- she was so in tune with me, she knew I didn't need/want to be touched just yet, simply having her present was so important and gave me the comfort I needed then.

Night was beginning to fall. It was time to get rid of the nightie, which was making me hot and was nothing but an obstacle, a hindrance now. I whipped it off without a thought and began roaming naked, uninhibited and free around the room. I was in my element. I had another very long shower which made things stronger still. My moans became long, loud and deep, I sat in the chair and moved the showerhead in circles over my tummy. Between pains I could hear the faint sound of another woman labouring, her birth song, and it was really special knowing I was part of a circle of women around the world, labouring and birthing at that very minute, joined by an invisible strength.

It became increasingly difficult to stand and sit comfortably in the shower, however I still wanted to be surrounded by water, so my Mum ran a deep bath for me in the birth pool/spa. I'd planned for a waterbirth all along so was looking forward to it... the water was beautiful and enveloping. I spent quite a while in there, semi-floating with a towel rolled up behind my head, and I started to hold Mum's hand during contractions. I asked for only the lamp light on so the room was mostly dark, it was lovely.

I then developed a huge wave of nausea and called for a bucket- it came just in time, and I vomited into it, feeling much cleaner and emptier afterwards. Michelle was now listening to the baby's heartbeat with the Doppler after EVERY contraction, which although I knew was important was very annoying and interrupted my focus. Baby seemed to be coping really well with labour so far as his heart was beautiful and steady. Over time, the pain and intensity of contx only kept increasing, completely racking my body.

It was like nothing I'd ever felt before- they were so raw, roaring through my body head to toe, penetrating every muscle bone and nerve. They were unescapable, I felt absolutely pushed to my limit, as if I was almost going to fall to pieces. I began to get teary and cried out 'I can't do this anymore. It hurts too much!' Mum and Michelle both assured me I could, and that I was doing really well. I think it was hard for Mum, watching me in pain, but she remained strong and encouraging, and wiped my face continually with a cool wash cloth, and brought me lots of water to keep my hydrated. 'You're doing so well Kezz.... you're going to be holding him soon!' My logical mind knew she was right, and I knew this had been said by countless women before, but I'd never known pain quite like this and it was a real challenge to handle it. I tried to remember to go with the pain rather than fight it though, and breathed deeply throughout.

Suddenly with the next contraction, I began involuntary pushing. It was the most amazing feeling, my body just tensed all on it's own, and I had an incredible urge to bear down. I just went with the flow and listened to my body, and Michelle encouraged me as well. The inevitable happened... I emptied my bowels a little bit in the bath... but didn't care in the slightest, and next thing I knew I got the pooper scooper and looked after myself! Everyone was impressed!

Once again though it was time for shifts to change, so Michelle introduced me to Kelly and Lianne who'd be taking care of me from thereon. I was mid-very loud moan when they entered the room, completely in the throes of labour, what a first impression. (I was upset that I was having a change of careproviders again! I had just began to trust the atmosphere in my birth space, and had gotten into a steady rhythm, and now it was changing again!) Lianne would be floating in and out of the room but I generally I had 2 midwives attending now because it was almost baby catching time... but neither midwife happened to be experienced in waterbirths, so they were very sorry to have to ask me if I could hop out of the bath when I was ready.

Surprisingly, I wasn't very upset to not be able to fulfil my plan of a waterbirth, I was quite prepared to go with the flow and although a little disappointed I felt that a change of position/environment might help anyway, to refresh me and allow me to perhaps gain some new energy.
Ok that was the biggest case of denial of all. I was shattered that I wouldn't be able to have my baby in the water. I felt so comfortable there, and natural, water to me means calm and peace, and I wanted to bring my baby into the world through it. I had never been told that it was a possibility I'd have to get out. No one had warned me! I was so let down! I wanted to cry. My plans were being pulled out from beneath me.

With Mum and Kelly helping I clambered out of the bath and decided to try the birthing stool. I was surprised at how loud and deep the sounds coming from my throat were, as if from a place I didn't even know existed. I began to get some quite bad lower back pain so Mum sat behind me and firmly massaged oil into my lower back. It felt wonderful and really helped relieve the pressure there.

The birth stool was effective in bringing baby down further through the birth canal, I could feel him moving down myself and Kelly said she could see the tissues fanning out really well and he was indeed coming down. She did tell me that there seems to be increased tearing with birth stools thought, so it was up to me weather I wanted to risk it. I decided to try the bed- I'd always envisioned a bed being the anti-thesis of birth and had thought that when the time came for ME to birth I wouldn't want to be any part of laying down! But here I was climbing up on one It was actually a great move, I felt really comfy up there as we had the bed in a semi-reclined position and I was able to rest a little.

I was performing a great animalistic roar and barring my teeth whilst pushing, but Kelly told me gently that the pushes weren't quite as strong as they could be because the sound was escaping. Instead of releasing the noise in a breath, She said to try to use it towards my pushing, and it worked really well... one long push became 3 or so really good ones.

Although I was trying really hard, I was beginning to get quite tired. Kelly could see this, and she looked into my eyes and said 'Kerrie it's time to meet your baby ok? He's waiting to be born, he's right there, you need to help him. Try using your arms to pull your kneed up towards your chest with each push & put your chin to your chest. Use your pain.' (The Doctor popped into the room. She looked nervous, and looked at the clock. 'I want this baby born by midnight!' she said, and I felt scared... wasn't I doing very well? I wasn't on time? Oh no!)

I tried to use Kelly's words to renew my focus, I put everything I had into pushing in the new position. It was really effective and I completely withdrew into myself and became almost in a trance, pushing then micro sleeping.

This went on for some time... and suddenly I felt an incredible pressure move down through my birth canal, which actually felt like it was my bottom. Yep everything they say is true, it feels like you're doing a poo in a big way! Mum kept offering me water from a straw so I could still hold my legs, and applied lip balm to my dry lips. She was a complete saviour. Lianne returned to the room & joined Kelly at the foot of the bed.

After a couple of enormous pushes 'Wow Kerrie we can see his hair, beautiful dark hair!' they said. 'You can reach down and touch it if you like!' But I was still entranced and didn't want to move even slightly to break my concentration. Mum stayed right by my side and I grabbed her hand and clutched it tightly for the final push- I felt even more pressure then a burning, stinging sensation. 'Oh his head is out! Well done Kerrie. Now try not to push so hard next time, pant through it, just give small pushes, I know it's hard,'

This was probably the most difficult part. My entire body was telling me to push, but my head said to wait. I panted as deeply and hard as I could and concentrated on a spot on the roof, trying to ignore the pain and urge. I allowed only tiny pushes, then I felt a sharp burn and Elijah James slithered out completely in a big slippery heap. It was 12.34 am, 29th October 2005.

My gorgeous boy immediately let out a strong, loud beautiful cry, and I gasped at the sound. 'He's out Kerrie, he's born! Wow what a big boy!' the midwives said, and as they caught him they placed him straight on my naked chest. There he was, my baby! My throat choked with emotion, and I saw lots of dark hair, wet and matted to his little head. I lifted him up closer- my beautiful baby, he was perfect and complete, covered in blood and fluid, almost steaming hot. My heart felt like it was going to leap through my chest. I could hear Mum almost crying too and saying how beautiful he is. And big! I unravelled the thick umbilical cord from his legs and lifted it up to confirm he was a boy. I could see it, a beautiful little willy! A boy! Tears of joy welled up in my eyes as I held him tight and close to my chest. He slithered around on my skin and cried like a little banshee, attempting to open his little eyes which were a beautiful dark grey/blue.

'Hello, I'm your Mumma.' I whispered to him. 'Hello baby!' Lianne put a warm blanket over us both, and I kissed his wet head and smelled the sweet smell of the vernix, blood and amniotic fluid. It was just the most incredible high having him laying against me, part of me. I counted all his fingers and toes and Mum and I hugged together with him in rapture, in disbelief of how beautiful he was. I put him to my breast & he stopped crying and began licking and exploring the new territory. He didn't suck right away but seemed curious.

Mum took some pictures of us, and when the cord had stopped pulsating so Kelly clamped it and I cut it myself. I'd wanted to allow spontaneous birth of the placenta so no Syntocinon injection. I lay with Eli on my chest, he was beginning to settle, stretching his limbs out slowly. All I could do was gaze at him and think 'Wow, he came from me.'

After 20 minutes or so, the placenta still had not been birthed and I felt quite heavy and a little distracted by this as if there was unfinished business. I asked Kelly if she would mind trying some gentle controlled cord traction, which she did and with a little push it slid out. I had a look, it was very big and fleshy and looked all in one piece which was good. A few minutes later I felt another slight contraction & pushed again, passing a big blood clot. I was a bit frightened and though something was wrong, but Kelly said it was perfectly fine and that my blood had just been pumping to expel the placenta, and had clotted.

I had some very extensive swelling and 3 tears after the birth, so a couple of hours later I was wheeled to theatre to be stitched. Eli was put into a little crib and came with me, fast asleep- he didn't leave my side at all. My genital area was throbbing as if it had been slammed in a door, and the Doctor soon arrived and said that although my perineum was unscathed I had some quite bad jagged tears, 2 labial and 1 vaginal. I was given gas for the anaesthetic needles, and was then stitched.

It was painful, but by this time, I was so exhausted everything was basically a haze. (I remember sucking on the gas deeply, and being delirious... I screamed at one point because the needle hasn’t worked properly, and I could feel the stitching, it was indescribable pain. But the doctor said to me 'It's only pulling that you can feel, you can't feel any pain...' How did she know what I could feel? It certainly wasn't just pulling! I phased in and out of reality...also there was a medical student observing the stitching. No one had asked me if this was ok. I made it clear in my birth plan I didn't want any medical students present! )

After I was all stitched up, I enjoyed a warm shower and put on my pyjamas, some warm socks, 2 maternity pads and snuggled into bed, exhausted. I asked Mum and Lianne to bathe Eli as I just didn't have the strength, but I watched from bed and he was cleaned beside me. He was quite calm, and I smiled as we admired his gorgeous chubby naked bod, his lovely olive skin and all his features. Lianne performed the APGAR which scored 9, and weighed and measured him. He was 10 pound 1 (4560 g), 54 cm long with a head circumference of 35 cms. He was such a big boy he didn’t even fit into his 0000 jumpsuits I'd packed!

Mum gave us both the last hugs and kisses, it was time for her to go home and get some much needed rest. Eli was dressed and wrapped warmly, and put sleeping peacefully into the little crib beside my bed. I fell asleep gazing at him, and had one of the best sleeps of my life. I awoke the next morning to Eli whimpering, and quickly took him out of the crib and snuggled him in bed with me, with my body heat to warm him. I offered him the breast again, and he hungrily began sucking, breastfeeding contentedly for around an hour whilst I cuddled him, smelled him and studied him head to toe.

Later on, a new midwife, an older lady, came to check on my stitches. She looked aghast. 'Oh my God, it looks like you have a scrotum!' she said, because of the swelling. I was so hurt and embarrassed and wanted to climb into a little hole. I had just birthed all n my own, without any drugs, I was supposed to be feeling glorious and proud of my body, not ashamed of it!

Then a nurse wanted to do the heel-prick test, and I said no. She scaremongered me into thinking Eli might have diabetes because he was a large baby, and she told me how sick he could get in a short time. I consented, and he was taken from me and his heel pricked. He seemed so alarmed and cried loudly, arms flailing. I immediately regretted it and scooped him up in my arms and apologised to him.
I snuggled him in bed with me, and a midwife kept popping her head through the curtain warning me not to co-sleep because it's 'dangerous.' I fed Elijah on demand, and another midwife told me that if I kept feeding so often I'd 'ruin my breasts'. She said to limit feeds to every 4 hours. I ignored this advice, knowing full well how ridiculous it was.

I then said I wanted an early discharge. I wasn't comfortable in hospital... I was sharing a room with 3 other women, and it was noisy with all the collective visitors. The food was bland and I just felt I couldn't relax properly. Not to mention the crap advice from nurses! I was grilled about why I wanted to leave early and there were so many forms I had to sign and 'red tape.' The Doctor that checked over Eli and myself was an arrogant bastard, he lectured me on my refusal of Vit K for Eli, and handled him like a sack of potatoes. Then when Eli cried, he shoved his finger in his mouth. How do I know where his finger has been?

Anyway, I finally discharged and returned home the day of birth. It was the most fantastic feeling, driving home with my little boy beside my in the car sear, to our new place, and our new life together. I had the hugest tired but elated grin on my face, and 4 weeks later, it hasn't faded one bit. He's very loved and spoiled by my younger siblings and all the family, he's breastfeeding really well, he amazes me daily with how much he grows and changes, and he has the most beautiful nature- very calm and content, and when he looks at me with his big blue-grey eyes I turn to a puddle.

In hindsight, I don’t think I'd agree to an induction ever again without evidence of something being wrong- but all in all, I am very happy with my birth experience- Eli's entrance to the world was as gentle as it could have been, I feel a huge sense of pride and accomplishment in myself that I achieved the drug-free active birth & labour I wanted, and I was lucky to have brilliant supportive midwives caring for us throughout. But most of all, I was blessed with the little, but oh so important man in my life, who is perfectly healthy and even on the difficult days lights up my life no end.

I think I was still basking in the glow of my babymoon when I wrote my birth story and allowed it to wash over some of the details. I was also defensive of my decisions, I didn't really want to admit I could have made better choices. It has taken 5 months for me to realise that I need to accept responsibility for them though, and to admit to myself and everyone else I put myself and my baby in a dangerous situation. I was actually extremely lucky that I was able to birth drug-free and vaginally after an induction. Sadly, for many women, an induction is just the beginning of the full cascade. I'm an exception to the rule. My birth was positive, empowering, and downright incredible, but that is thanks to me and the hard work I did, not thanks to the hospital. I don't feel that birthing there did me any favours.

Since birthing Elijah, I now see how close I came to birth trauma, and it frightens me. I have researched more in depth than ever before, and will not be choosing to birth within a hospital, or hospital-run birth centre again. Evidence shows that home birth is the safest option, and offers the best possible chance for a happy, healthy mama and baby. I look forward to my next birth, so that I will be able to experience continuity of care, birthing amongst my own surroundings, free from policy and procedure. I look forward to birthing in water, and sleeping with my baby if I want to. I look forward to breastfeeding without unwelcome advice, and to the privacy of my own home. I look forward to all the things that Elijah and I missed out on in those initial precious hours. I have spoken openly with my Mother about how important it is to have full trust and confidence in the woman you're supporting, and have shared my plans for a homebirth next time. I will not allow the doubts of others to affect my decision making again.

Here's to amazing, joyous births, and the changing view that birth is NOT a medical emergency, but a completely natural event.

Goddess Power to you all