The start of my birth story began at my first midwife appointment. I just didn’t know it at the time.  

Completely naive to the workings of the NHS maternity system, I attended the appointment bright eyed, with the most basic knowledge of pregnancy and birth. I was labelled high-risk due to my age and BMI and put on a consultant-led care path. I was told about the additional measures that had to happen as I was high risk: extra folic acid, daily aspirin, anticoagulant medication, GTT, additional growth scans and biweekly blood pressure checks in the third trimester. Now I know this is standard procedure for the majority of high-risk patients, but at the time, I felt completely overwhelmed. The quantity of appointments seemed like an additional full time job. The measures made me fearful that something would go wrong. I came away completely dispirited. I felt particularly down because I knew I was at fault. I told myself that if I was thinner and younger I wouldn't be in this situation. The appointment set off a negative loop of messaging around my body and its capabilities.

A few weeks later, by chance, or divine intervention, take your pick, I was scanning the bookshelves of a charity shop and saw a book called ‘Give Birth Like A Feminist.’ The title intrigued me and 50p later I had laid the foundations for a completely different birth experience. The author explains the increasing medicalisation of maternity care. It’s history as care centred around midwives to one taken over by a patriarchal medical system. The messaging resonated. I realised that in all areas of my life I behave like a feminist and needed to do the same for my antenatal care. I joined the wonderful, supportive Facebook community of Big Birthas, read Ina May Gaskin and Natalie Meddings, followed positive birth accounts on Instagram and attended Anna’s Hackney Hypnobirthing classes. It was through this process of knowledge gathering that I started to feel more confident, able to question health care professionals and advocate for what I wanted.

I realised it was important to me to have access to a birthing pool during labour as a form of pain relief. As I was labelled high-risk, I was told that I could only give birth on the labour ward. My pregnancy was healthy and ‘text-book’ according to a community midwife so I assumed I could argue my way into the birth centre where each room has a birth pool.I requested a meeting with the consultant midwife at my trust and after weeks of being messed around, finally received a confirmation appointment. I studied for that appointment like a University exam, memorising statistics and evidence. I was sure I could convince the consultant midwife of my case.

The meeting was a disaster.

For every reason she provided I countered with a lack of evidence but still she would not budge. In the end she conceded that if everything in labour was ok and the pool was free, I would be allowed access to the one birthing pool on the labour ward. I went home and scoured the maternity stats published monthly by my trust. In a spreadsheet (!) I inputted the water births each month as a percentage of total births. The ratio was ridiculously low: 1.4-4% of total births for a 12 month period. I was shocked by the stats and realised the numbers were not in my favour. I shared my findings with the Big Birthas group and the comments of the consultant midwife. It was on the suggestion of members of the Big Birthas group and the prompting to join the Home Birth Support Group UK on Facebook that I seriously started to consider a home birth. It would be out of NHS guidelines, but if I wanted a water birth this was the way to go about it. After plenty of reading through studies and home birth stories of high risk birthers on Home Birth Support Group UK, and lots of soul searching, I finally made a decision (at 38 weeks!) and planned a home birth.

 On the morning of November 7 I woke up with mild period pain. I assumed this was the beginning of labour but knowing that this could be a very, very long process, I went back to bed to rest as much as possible. By lunchtime I was feeling much better and with more energy, so I went to my sister-in-law for lunch. While there, the surges started increasing in intensity so when one came on, I stood up or walked through it. By 3:30pm I was feeling uncomfortable being in a space that was not my own so went home.

At 5pm I messaged my family that things felt like they were ramping up. I switched off my phone. My husband closed all the curtains and turned off the lights. The flat was in darkness. I put on the TENs machine. Rachel came over. I started to feel really uncomfortable during each surge and kept moving between my bedroom and bathroom: I rocked back and forth on all fours on the bed, sat on the toilet and stood  leaning over the sink. I kept trying to get comfortable, but found no relief. Rachel and my husband didn’t make any conversation with me, but kept offering me water and words of encouragement. At one point it was agreed to call the midwife and they asked how often I was experiencing contractions. I wasn’t counting or keeping track so Rachel said whatever needed to be said to get the midwives over. Meanwhile the intensity of the surges was building and I kept telling myself my affirmations - each surge brings me closer to my baby - to keep me focused. During a particularly challenging time, I sat on the toilet and Rachel pulled my head towards her chest while she stroked my hair. My husband kept giving me words of encouragement. I felt so safe, so protected, like a baby myself, soothed by those around me.

After some time I felt like I needed the relief of the water so asked my husband to fill up the pool. But Rachel said there wasn't enough time to fill up the pool. I thought she was lying to encourage me, as I could not believe that the birth could be approaching this fast. I had no idea of the time but it didn’t feel like that much time had passed. The midwife arrived and asked to monitor the baby’s heartbeat and I agreed. She said she needed to go collect the equipment from her car. She asked my husband to help her.

Rachel put the birthing ball on the bed and I draped over it while rocking back and forth on all fours. I then felt the entire lower half of my body pull apart, from left to right, as if I was splitting in two. I put my hand down and was shocked to feel the baby’s entire head. The next moment, the baby’s body tumbled out of me and she fell on the bed. Rachel passed her to me as my husband and the midwife walked back into the flat. I kept shouting at my husband, ’it’s a baby, it’s a baby’.... as if I could have given birth to something else?!! Our daughter was born just after 8pm. I was in so much shock at how quickly everything happened. In the notes which I would read later, the midwife recorded the second stage of labour as 3 minutes - the amount of time it took to leave the flat and collect the equipment from her car. The irony was not lost on me that after all my advocating for a water birth I didn’t get one as it all happened so quickly.

The cord was clamped by my husband after it had turned white. I had a physiological third stage and birthed the placenta an hour later after some surprisingly strong surges. I needed a few stitches and as the midwife administered the injection to numb the area, I cried out in pain. She looked puzzled. ‘How can you be in pain, you’ve just given birth without any pain relief,’ she inquired. ‘But this is sore!’ I protested. After a shower and change of bed linen I got back into bed to cuddle with my baby, eat chicken soup and drink rooibos tea.

The days after birth I felt on top of the world. I felt so strong, so powerful and was in disbelief at what I had just done. My husband called me a lioness and said I had roared our daughter out. I felt ecstatic, convinced I could do anything.

I’ve read that birth is not a medical event, it is a spiritual one and for me that resonates so profoundly. My birth experience presented me with the biggest lesson of my life: to trust myself and my body more deeply than I have ever done before. To really believe in my core that I am enough, I am capable and that my body is capable.

It’s a truth I am proud to stand in and one which I will pass on to my daughter as I begin my new journey into motherhood.