The final weeks leading up to the birth of our third baby can be described akin to a roller coaster. I knew that I would more than likely have a longer pregnancy, again, but for some reason this did not make me immune to the hormonal fluctuations that preceded the birth. Some days were fine and I coped well, other days I was contemplating all kinds of ridiculous things to shift the baby, despite realistically knowing the risks and downfalls of such plans. There was one morning, 3 days before labour began, that I sat on my bed crying, and Aurora came into the bedroom and said “Mummy don’t cry. I don’t like seeing you sad”. I rang up my incredibly understanding husband, Chris, and told him that after a morning of constant fighting between my two older girls, that I would be dropping the girls off at his work and booking a night alone at a motel. Hormones were clearly high and raging within.
I had always thought that at the back of my head, I would be dropping Scarlett back to kindergarten for the start of term 4 (after being home for 3 incredibly taxing weeks) and that I would still be pregnant. Mother’s intuition proved right and I toddled up to the kindy gates, belly ripe, greeting the other mothers, still pregnant. Thankfully in the last few days of my pregnancy the storms seemed to pass and things settled. I had a lovely morning of taking Aurora, my then youngest, to a coffee shop nearby where we ate cappuccinos and cupcakes, then came home and had a big nap. The following day we spent the morning at the library, with more ‘cinos and when I collected Scarlett that afternoon we had a nice time at the park with friends. Distraction was proving beneficial.
The next morning at about 3am I was awoken by what I thought was a Braxton Hicks, so I acknowledged it and then went to sleep. These came every hour, until I finally got up at 5:50am to go to the toilet to relieve my acorn sized pregnancy-bladder. I wiped myself and noticed a smear of bloody pink mucous on the toilet paper. Not knowing whether to be excited or a bit worried, I rang my midwife, confused, and told her. She happily (albeit sleepily) reassured me that it was great news, and that it meant my cervix was dilating and effacing. We may have a baby today, or tomorrow.
I went and told Chris, and asked him to take the day off (it being Friday anyway with the pending weekend ahead and he had plenty of accrued leave) so he rang his boss and organized it.
I began noticing surges going through my body about an hour later, regular, but not regular enough or intense enough to be concerned. We packed Scarlett up ready for a day at kindergarten and I decided to take Aurora with me down the road to get some fresh fruit and vegetables – I was particularly keen on getting watermelon, as I envisioned eating it whilst in labour. Surges still present, we came home with our bounty and I was excited to see more tinged mucous after I urinated. I told Chris “today might be the day!” excitedly. We dropped Scarlett at kindergarten and made our way to the other side of town as I had chosen to keep the Chiropractic appointment that was made the week previous.
On the 30 minute drive to the Chiropractor I was experiencing surges roughly ten minutes apart. They were present and uncomfortable but completely manageable. We got to the clinic and I had my adjustment, and we came home.
For the next few hours I continued to experience surges still ten minutes apart. I let my support team know this and I told my midwife that I was pretty sure things would “pick up after the girls went to bed”. After Aurora had woken from her nap and we had all had lunch (I had leftover sausage curry) it came time to collect Scarlett from kindergarten. When we got there I was greeted with the a-typical “baby still not out yet??/have you had the baby yet?” comments which I batted away. A girlfriend of mine who also has had a homebirth noticed that I was absent-mindedly rocking my hips from side to side as I was chatting to the girls on the playground. She mentioned something about me having the baby tonight, which I shrugged off.
We got home and went through the fairly routine afternoon cycle: afternoon tea for the girls, outside play, tidying up, preparing dinner, eating dinner, shower and then bed time. I let my support team know the surges were still present.
At about 5:30pm Chris noticed the intensity of the surges pick up by how I was responding to them: I had been rocking on the opti-ball previously when a surge hit but now I was having to get up, move around and rock my hips and I was visibly exhaling louder than I was before. He told me to call my midwife, to which I, in typical stubborn/denial fashion said “no! it’s not that bad yet!”. So, in between running a bath for the girls he challenged me to stay on the opti-ball the entire surge and not get up and walk around for two surges. I managed the first, just, but then attempted to sneakily cheat with the second.. but got busted, Chris saw me up and then said “right! Call her now!”. I walked into our bedroom in a huff, rolling my eyes, to admire my rock-hard belly in our full length mirror. Just as I did this, I felt a “pop” and sudden release of pressure. I exclaimed “oh my goddddd!!” and ran into the bathroom, whipped off my purple yoga pants and watched as my waters splashed onto the ceramic tiles of our bathroom floor.
This is when I would be challenged, once again. The waters that splashed on the floor were dotted with green meconium. I sat on the toilet as I felt another gush coming and watched as pea-green water came out of my Yoni into the toilet bowl. I hastily rang my midwife who assured me she would leave now and was on her way immediately. She didn’t sound panicked but I felt the foundations of my inner strength being rocked to the core. Meconium in the waters was not something I had mentally or emotionally prepared for. I rang my Doula who said she would be here in 15 minutes, and my friend who was the girls support person who said the same.
The surges were still coming and in between them I was leaning onto the kitchen bench using my iPad to research the real risks associated with meconium stained liqor. After educating myself for a few minutes I felt a bit more at ease, but still unsure and a bit concerned. I began to trace back in my mind as to when I felt my baby move last, and I was mildly panicking because I couldn’t recollect it. My Doula arrived soon after, and found me in the kitchen with a terry flat held between my legs like a pad. She asked me whether I wanted to call the ambulance to have them on standby just in case, to which I declined. She then spent time talking to me, and I felt my labour slow. The surges were becoming more erratic and not lasting as long in duration or intensity. I told my Doula that I would feel much better when my midwife was here. During this time my friend E arrived as well and I didn’t tell her any details, rather recognized her presence and she made herself at home on my couch with a book. She was there for the girls, not me, and my space was being held.
Soon enough, actually rather sooner than I had expected, my Midwife arrived. I was expecting her to take longer as she was 90 minutes or so away but she only took an hour. She greeted me in the kitchen and I was leaning forward over Chris’ shoulders during a surge. I quickly asked her to use the Doppler to hear baby’s heartbeat and so she did. And we heard the heartbeat loud and strong within a few seconds. The baby’s head was very low down, but the heart beat was strong and I felt a weight lift as I listened to that incredible sound. Soon after that, I felt the baby kick. And the kick was strong. It was almost like the babe within me had then given me the push to keep labouring, knowing that all was good, and to continue to trust in birth as I had been. It was about quarter past 7pm at this point. I experienced a few more surges, which had ramped up in intensity and I was rocking my hips again, leaning onto the kitchen bench. My Doula asked me if I needed the pool yet (which was already inflated but not filled) and I said yes, I did. So Chris went about filling it (which proved to be a laborious task which required him to hold onto the hose to the tap the entire time as the water filtered through) and I continued to labour in the kitchen. Within about half an hour I couldn’t wait any longer, as I wanted to feel weightless in the pool to provide some relief for my lower back ache which was now coming through along with the surges.
I hopped into the pool as it was still being filled with water and felt immediate relief. I felt at home, comfortable. My candles from my Blessingway were lit on the top of my bookshelf, the shadows of the blessings visible on the walls. The room felt warm, protective. I kept my singlet top on for a little while in the pool but soon got rid of it, as I leaned forward over the edge of the soft edge and breathed through the surges, which were coming a bit faster now. My Doula and Midwife alternated pouring water onto my back, as any touch directly on me pulled me out of my “zone”. I was chatting to my support team in between surges. The baby within me was distracting, wriggling as I was experiencing surges. It was very bizarre experience.
I began to ask where Chris was, as I needed him. My Doula said he was still filling the birth pool with water so he was in the bathroom. She felt the water and said it needed more hot water, so she went about doing that and Chris came and kneeled beside me on the outer of the birth pool.
I leaned into him during surges, he held me close and I began to sing my birth song, making low moaning noises, rocking back and forth over the edge of the pool during surges. My Midwife did a quick Doppler check of the heart rate of the baby.
Soon enough I felt the familiar urge to vomit and I began retching over the edge of the pool. Thankfully there was a drop sheet down already (past experience win!) and my Doula quickly fetched a towel for me to purge onto, while my Midwife grabbed a bucket.
I loved the feeling of vomiting, it felt cathartic and productive. A few more surges hit and I continued to eliminate (hello sausage curry from lunch!) into the bucket with great force and gusto. I overheard my Midwife say to my Doula and husband “this is good, this is good” and I know now that she also recognized my vomiting as a sign of my being in transition/close to the pushing stage.
Within a few moments I felt the all too familiar “drop” as my wriggly baby descended even lower into my pelvis, coming with it the pushy feelings. I began to get a bit panicked/pulled out of my zone at this stage, and I remember saying to Chris “I am done. I can’t do this anymore.” And I actually attempted to get up and get out of the pool. My birth team encouraged me to stay in the water, my Midwife said to me “you’re almost there Jess, you’re doing so great.”
I attempted to get in a more comfortable position so I moved so that I was sitting in a squat, holding the edge of the pool with my hands, facing forward. All of a sudden I was overcome with the urge to push so I did, and it was forceful. I was making low guttural noises by this point, considerably louder than I had been.
I said to my Midwife “the head is coming, it’s coming!!” and she encouraged me to feel down between my legs, and I did. It was slimy and I felt my Yoni opening wide. Another surge came, and I surrendered to the voice within me, telling me to push. The baby wriggled around, I felt the legs on the right side of my belly.
It was very disconcerting; pushing the baby earthside while it wriggled inside of me. Kind of like it was very much on the cusp of two worlds. I continued pushing, roaring my birth song now, and the head was born. I said out loud “oh the head! The head! Quick get Scarlett!”.. my friend E ran into S’ room and woke her up, bringing her quickly into the birthing space and before I could exclaim any more with joy, another surge hit, I felt Chris’ hand on my arm and the baby’s body was born in one swift movement.
I instinctively reached forward to grab my baby and pull it onto my chest. The cord was very long. The baby was slippery, and let out a very loud scream. I checked the sex and said “it’s a girl, I told you it would be!” and I held her close to me while Chris held Scarlett in his arms on the other side of the pool.
I exclaimed “she’s so small!” and would later find out that she was in fact the smallest of my girls, weighing in at about 5 hours old at 8lbs5oz. Despite the meconium being present in my waters when they broke, the pool was clear of it and my baby came out with none on her.
My Midwife passed me a tea towel to put over the baby and I cuddled her close, as she squawked and let her place be known.
I wanted to get out of the pool to birth my placenta, as my bottom hurt. My clever husband knew I would want to do this again, and had already put down a Connie sheet onto our bed. I told my Midwife I wanted to get out, and she approached me to help me out but I had already literally jumped out of the pool already, onto the bed. I then began instructing my support team to put pillows under my knees as my thighs were sore from rocking. I lay in bed, with Scarlett beside me and my baby on my chest, and waited for my placenta to be born. She was still crying very loudly at this point. Soon enough, within 10 minutes or so, I felt the urge to push again and I was relieved when I birthed the placenta. It was placed into a colander to drain and then into a bowl, as we had plans to Lotus Birth. Instantly our baby calmed, as though she was anxiously waiting for her womb mate to be earthside with her – the placenta which had nourished and provided for her during the 42 week 5 day long pregnancy.
I was checked for tears (I had a minor one that required no suturing) by my Midwife, and then she and my Doula set about doing a print of the placenta onto the canvasses which I had pre-bought. My Midwife also asked me which section of the placenta I wanted to use for consumption so I indicated to a portion and she went about preparing it. Scarlett, E, my Doula and Midwife then went about getting toast and tea for me, and Chris and I snuggled in bed, gazing at our third born daughter. We went about making some phone calls to beloved family and friends soon after, and I attempted to have my first breast feed with my little one, who was still naked in body, warm against my chest but her head was adorned with a green knitted bonnet which I had bought op-shopping during pregnancy, but never thought to use due to it’s tiny size.
Scarlett was settled into bed by Chris, and in the thick of after-birth pains I made my way to the toilet supported by my Midwife in an attempt to relieve them. I was quite weak and pale after the fast labour and was keen to get back into bed. Shortly after my Midwife weighed and measured Pippa and then back onto my chest she went, we said goodbye to my Midwife and Doula who we would see the following morning. I snuggled my little bundle all throughout the evening, battling excruciating after pains in a silent dark house til morning light, when Aurora would wake up and meet her little sister for the first time and Scarlett would climb into our bed also – a family of five, for the first time together.
At the beginning of my pregnancy I made three guesses: that this baby would come earlier than my last; that I would be birthing a girl and that there would be a “wild card” element to my labour – something I did not expect. Yet again, mother’s intuition proved to be spot-on with all three: I did indeed birth 3 days earlier than my previous gestation, the baby was a little woman and the wild card element was the meconium in the waters and also the wee size of the baby.
Looking back, the constant wriggling and movement I felt from my baby all the way through labour right up until birth almost served as an indirect reminder or message to me that everything was fine. My baby was communicating to me from within. I feel very grateful to have had the sense to have listened to her.
Our baby was unnamed til day 2, when Chris and I finally decided on the name “Pippa Zoë” and she was Lotus Born after a tumultuous night on Day 3, letting go of her cord whilst being cradled in Daddy’s arms.
This pregnancy proved to be the most challenging to me in a myriad of ways but again the constant reminder, the biggest lesson in all of it was the underlying strength and ability a pregnant woman possesses when she is left to her own devices to birth. Recognizing the sheer inner strength that comes from the challenges that are met with an open heart and open mind, and reaching out for support from loved ones.
At first I thought I was just “lucky” to have the third birth go the way it did, the second fabulous homebirth. But now after some contemplation I realize that luck has nothing to do with it – rather, making an informed educated decision and surrendering to the innate Goddess within, birthing with power and might.
