Setting the scene
We planned another home birth, though to be completely honest I didn’t feel as militant about it this time. This was such a different pregnancy experience than my first – I really felt like the midwives/doctors were more trusting/accepting of me and my opinions because I’d done it once, unlike you pathetic ‘first time mums’ who clearly have NO idea about their bodies and can’t possibly be relied on to make your own decisions (just in case we need clarity: *this is sarcasm*). I didn’t get much resistance to my home birth plans, although I had been expecting it. I was told a few times I was ‘high-risk’ as I had a small baby first time (6lb8, small but perfectly formed) and was prescribed aspirin from the very beginning to mitigate this ‘risk’. I personally never even picked up the prescription. Baby’s growth was perfect throughout, though I did have to decline extra growth scans and dopplers etc towards the end (I think these were offered as routine due to the ‘high-risk’ label). I was, quite simply, too busy; Rex, work, the house reno, and I just knew they were unnecessary for me. I gave myself permission to look inward and trust my instincts – I felt it was okay to say ‘no’ for no other reason than to protect my energy.
Rex was born at 41+5, and this time when I got to 40 weeks I was very comfortable and actually didn’t feel ready at all to give birth – I really wanted another week or two to rest and nest, that summer had been SO intense with a 1 year old, a house renovation, working 4 days a week and then finally moving in at 38 weeks pregnant – we’d barely finished unpacking! I was very happy to stay pregnant as long as the baby needed and knew I would not be having a sweep / induction.
41+3 (Sunday morning)
I went for a long walk into town, round the market, and back home with Jack & Rex in the morning. I was in the car taking Rex to my mums for the afternoon, and I noticed some period-pain cramping. I started taking note of how regularly this was happening, it was about every 15-20 minutes or so. I was starting to think should we get Rex ready for a sleepover tonight just in case? But my gut was telling me it wasn’t going to happen quickly – and I really wanted to minimise my time away from him. So I just carried on as normal, hung out with my mum that afternoon, and took Rex home for bedtime as normal.
Sunday, 9pm
That evening, the cramps started getting more regular and ramping up quite significantly. Jack said to me, “I think you need to accept that this is happening”. We made the call to the grandparents who were on standby, they picked Rex up at 11pm – bless him, he didn’t even wake up when they put him in the car and took him home!
We spoke to Bluebell around the same time and the midwife said “just to warn you, we have no one available to attend a home birth tonight, and we’re closing Bluebell – so you’ll have to come into Labour Ward”. Flashbacks to birth number one! I was unsurprised and undeterred. I was managing well with a TENS machine and my gym ball, just keeping mobile but supported, resting in between contractions which were pretty strong to start with and getting more regular. By midnight, things hadn’t really progressed beyond that – I was getting contractions every 5-10 minutes or so, but I just had a sense it would stay this way for a while. I remember being hit with a sudden, overwhelming wave of fatigue, and I knew I needed to rest so I went to bed. All through the night I was being woken every 10-15 mins by a contraction, but my TENS machine was really helping me manage them, and I dozed until around 6am when I felt I had to get up and start moving again. The contractions started to become more regular – 3 in 10 and feeling powerful. I sent this pic to the 3 friend group chat (you know the one) at 7.43am saying “Hi I’m a bit miserable”:
41+4, 8am (Monday)
Jack called Bluebell at about 8am and gave our update. For some reason (and I can’t really remember why) they got a bit panicked that I was imminently pushing the baby out – my midwife arrived bang on 9am all in a tizz – “Right, I’m here, you can start pushing!!”. I think they just assumed as it was my second birth that things would progress quickly (if only!). I explained that my contractions had been 3 in 10 for a few hours at this point but I wasn’t about to start pushing. But honestly it killed my vibe.
SUPER frustratingly, almost as soon as she came through the door – contractions just stopped. Completely stopped, like they’d never been there at all. I was so confused, annoyed, frustrated – the midwife didn’t hang around for long, she told me to get some rest and they’ll likely restart soon.
I didn’t listen – I was really stubborn and in that typical mindset of thinking if the contractions had stalled then I was going “backwards” – I was like fuck that, I’ve come too far to let things slow down now, come on keep going!! I was doing laps up and down the stairs, squats, stretching, bouncing on my ball – after two hours of this, to no avail, I finally conceded she was right and I probably did need to rest. At midday we put a film on (Pitch Perfect – what else?) and I dozed off – and was woken up by a contraction around 3pm! This coincided perfectly with the Tesco delivery and also a couple of flat pack sheds turning up (reno life) – the delivery drivers didn’t hang around when Jack casually said “don’t mind the mooing – she’s in labour”.
3pm
I was happy because things had started again, and it felt like STRAIGHT back into 3 in 10, at the same intensity. I managed a couple of hours of this, with my TENS machine, stretching, my ball, and a few more films (Bend it Like Beckham, Mamma Mia), but I remember frustration creeping in again that things didn’t really feel like they were progressing – I had a sense that I was waiting for my waters to break. With my first birth, my waters broke pretty early on and things escalated quickly, and he was born 3 hours later. This time, I had the really intense, really regular contractions – coming up to 20 hours at this point (with that 3 hour lull) but no waters. In a way, I’m glad it was slow to progress because at least Bluebell was able to plan staff to support my home birth and knew it was likely to tip over into the night shift. Some midwives arrived around 6pm, and they were really supportive of my choices – I declined all vaginal exams (I personally don’t think this information is helpful and more often than not ends up working against you) so they just sort of let me & Jack get on with it. My plan was to hold off getting into the pool until I really needed it. I remember it was just after 7pm when one of the contractions made me ROAR and fall to my knees, and at this point it was suggested I get in the pool, to which I obliged!
8pm
Being supported in the warm water was such a huge relief. Jack was holding my hand through every single contraction, and I felt I was able to rest much more effectively in between contractions. I was still really in my own head about my waters having not broken, but was trying to reassure myself – a good friend of mine gave birth ‘en caul’ so I thought ‘maybe that’ll be me’!
The midwives were taking some pictures, which was really lovely. Chatting away, one of them she mentioned that she studied photography and used to shoot weddings etc. I thought, oh wow, we’ve got lucky here! And was quickly humbled by the pictures:
Time goes by, things are still the same. Very regular contractions, very intense, and although I had the pool for pain relief, I wanted to hold off gas & air as long as possible because I knew it was going to make me sick.
Shift change, 8pm, new midwives! They were absolutely lovely, and put no pressure on me at all. They only wanted to monitor the baby’s heartbeat every 15 minutes, but I didn’t need to get out of the pool. We had a party playlist going to keep the pozzy vibes up but I was really starting to get tired now, even Little Mix wasn’t lifting me like they normally would. I kept waiting for the midwives to check their watches, give each other side-eye, start suggesting maybe it was time to transfer into hospital… but they never did. They just kept saying to me “your body is doing exactly what it needs to do, you’re doing so well, keep going”. They were so positive, chatting about music, encouraging Jack, making sure I was sipping water. Jack really was incredible, completely taking care of me and getting me through it, showing me so much love and encouragement – there is just no way I could have done it without him. It was a lot of work for him keeping the pool at the right temperature (because I was in there for HOURS) and having to do that whilst sprinting back into the room every time I yelled for him. It really was a team effort, and he was unbelievable.
11pm
It’s been 26 hours now since I started having intense and regular contractions, and I’m really starting to get pissed off. I promise you, at this point I was full of regrets in my choices. If I was in hospital I would have undoubtedly requested an epidural, but I’d made my bed and now I had to lie in it! I’m exhausted, I’m really starting to wonder how much longer I can keep going, I don’t understand why nothing is happening – I can feel that the baby needs to get lower. My midwives are reassuring me that the purple line is there and getting stronger – all they do is reassure me. I would say “I can’t do it!” and they would say “you ARE doing it!”.
Things started to slow down a little. Clearly, this was transition, but I almost didn’t want to believe it in case I was wrong! I just had to keep going, meet every contraction, ride it out. I had all the mantras; yield, surrender, every contraction brings me closer to my baby, floppy face floppy fanny, blah blah blah, using all the hip opening tricks and positions I had in my arsenal – but I was fed up.
Midnight, Tuesday (41+5)
I must have faced close to 500 contractions at this point. I really, really wanted it to end. I remember screaming at the midwife “HEEELP MEEEE” and she said very calmly (which pissed me off) ‘what do you want me to do?’ I said “ANYTHINGGGGG” (I was very dramatic), so she handed me the gas and air. Guess what – a couple of pulls on that, and I felt a ‘pop’ – my waters had FINALLY broken! I remember feeling completely relieved and terrified all at once. Within a couple of minutes, I could feel baby was descending (you best believe I was pulling HARD on the gas and air now). Then quickly, I had the urge to push. I remember reaching down and I could feel baby’s head – one, two, three, four HUGE pushes (they hurt, but it was kind of refreshing to have a different pain to focus on) and out popped the head! The shoulders came with the next push and out slid the baby, into the water. The midwife reached in to grab the baby – I said no, let me! – and she did. I pulled my baby onto my chest, kissed them and relaxed back against the edge of the pool. I was SO relieved I’d done it, and it was finally over.
00:27 – It’s a GIRL
I’d wanted Jack to do the gender reveal (though it’s so funny, I couldn’t have cared less at that point) – he said a GIRL!? Wow, we’d had a girl! I was too exhausted to cry, but I felt SO happy.
The cord was cut after 15 mins or so of baby cuddling on my chest, I declined the oxytocin injection for placenta delivery – as soon as I stood up to get out of the pool (a bit wobbly!), all it took was a very gentle tug from the midwife and out came my placenta! Could not have been a more different experience than my first.
The next few hours were spent feeding, cuddling and bleeding. I had no perineal tear – but dealing with the post-birth bleeding is the main drawback of a home birth I’d say! (Home birth planning tip: collect as many old towels off friends and family as you think you’re going to need, then DOUBLE IT). Jack made me some food (I can’t remember what, toast? Quesadillas?), drained and packed away the pool with the help of the midwives, who left around 2am. We sent some texts, and went to sleep around 4am. When I tell you I DID NOT STIR until I woke up with a jolt at 10am, baby next to me, completely content having also slept that entire time. I just wanted to get Rexy back then – I hadn’t seen him since Sunday night (and it was now Tuesday morning). God, that moment when he walked in and suddenly seemed huge – I gave him the biggest cuddle.
Final thoughts
My second labour & birth just felt insanely LONG, exhausting, it was absolute graft. It did make me feel stronger though – like oh my god, I DID THAT. If I can get through that, I can face just about anything motherhood throws at me. I think that’s kind of the point – labour & birth is the perfect metaphor for motherhood. Whatever happens, you just have to show up and meet it head on. You think you’ve reached your limit? No mama, you have more to give. Dig deep, keep going, you have no choice.
Motherhood really does break you apart, piece by piece. You will meet your most powerful self if you trust the process, and rebuild. If you’re lucky, you’ll only be a little bit traumatised along the way. But you already know it will be worth it.
