Sophia's Story

Part one – Hermione’s birth

This is the story of the birth of my first-born, Hermione, who arrived in 2000.

Before I was pregnant for the first time, I had never really given much thought to how I might give birth.  I had squirmed at the horror stories of other women who had already had babies and watched the culturally accepted view on the tv hospital dramas of women in labour who were in agony and needed to be rescued from some medical emergency by the men in white coats.  I guess I thought when my time came, I would just have all the drugs and interventions I could so as to escape this terrifying ordeal. 

Then I got pregnant and a funny thing happened….. By some random twist of fate (or was it divine providence?) I received two books through the mail.  I hadn’t asked for them, they were addressed to someone else and there was no return address, what to do?  One was Birth Reborn by Michel Odent and the other was a book written by Dutch midwives on the subject of home birth (which is very common in Holland).  I read them and my eyes were opened.

I learned that I had choices and that there were alternatives and the more I read the hungrier I got to know more.  I was convinced that I could give birth at home and told my husband so.  He was really scared to start with and thought he would end up having to deliver the baby!  We were lucky enough to live in Brighton, where at the time, there was a high home-birth rate.  I met and hired a doula (a woman experienced in providing non-medical support to pregnant, labouring and postnatal women) in the knowledge that the midwives don’t stay with you until you are in strong labour and might change shift during that time.  We wanted to have someone with us that we knew, was guaranteed to stay with us for the duration and would be able to help us inform ourselves about our choices during birth.  It was important to me to have some woman-to-woman support too.

So, 40 weeks came and then went.  I happened to have an antenatal appointment on my due date and to my anger and disappointment was given a date for induction.  My dream of birthing my baby at home in peace was in jeopardy.  The midwife was most unsympathetic.  She did not tell me that I had a choice about being induced.  We came home and I cried and got crosser.  The next day we went out for a really long walk by the sea, came home and ate the hottest curry known to man, the usual… At 9 at night I had my first contraction and decided I was too tired to have the baby that night so I took a couple of paracetamol and went to bed!  My labour woke me at 5 am and I got up, wandered around, spoke to the hospital, had a bath until my husband got up at a more civilised hour.  The contractions were still spaced out and irregular.  They were not that strong, didn’t need my full attention.  I called my mother who we had also asked to be with us at the birth.

The morning passed with some last-minute nesting.  My mother and I made the bed ready for afterwards, ate food, chatted.  It was nice to have someone there who I felt safe with and who had done all this before.  My doula came at lunchtime and during the afternoon did some cranial-sacral work and gave me homeopathic remedies.  By late afternoon I needed to be up and active, labour had got a lot stronger and the contractions were coming thick and fast. .  I started being sick with the pain so I got in my birth pool.   That was great, such a relief.  The pain was easier to deal with, I felt warm and supported by the water and I was in my own space.  That afternoon I learned why they call it labour, it was the hardest work I had ever done!  The midwife sat patiently, my mother poured warm water over my back and stroked my hair, my husband held my hands and told me I was strong enough, that I could do it.  I was in “labourland” and had no concept of time, just one contraction at a time, breathing.

The midwife checked to find I was 5 cm dilated.  I slipped back into the warm water in hard labour and white-knuckled on.  Less than an hour later I felt a change and woke up a bit.  I needed to push!  The midwife was shocked, she had expected it to take many more hours.  She insisted she check again and was delighted to find me fully dilated.  She called her second midwife to come and help her. 

Pushing was excellent!  I experienced huge surges of energy coursing through my body but the pain was gone and I stopped being sick at last.  It took ages, and in hindsight I know that I was wasting the energy by making too much noise in my throat.  After a couple of hours the midwives got me out of the tub and made me walk up the stairs.  They had me sit on the loo and with a mirror showed me my baby’s head crowning.  It was all I needed.  Back in the pool, my doula let me know to make my noise lower, from right down in my belly on top of the baby and with the next push she was born into the water. 

I can remember being utterly stunned.  I did not realise she had come out of me.  I can remember my jaw dropping as I turned round to watch the midwife fish the baby out of the tub and pass her to me.  A baby girl!  Joy and tears all round.

A while later when I had delivered my baby’s placenta and been sewn up again I walked into my own sitting room to be with my family and feed Hermione for the first time, like it was the most normal thing in the world.  It was easy and she knew exactly what to do.  My husband and I got into our own bed that night with our baby and we all fell in love.  Bliss.  You can do it too…..

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Anja's Story

Seventeen years ago I started my journey to become a midwife. I didn’t know that then. I thought I was on a journey to become a mother.
I always thought I had had quite good births. Alyosha was born in a birth centre, no interventions, no drugs, no doctors. And my second son Emanuel was born at home.

It took me eight years to realize that maybe my births hadn’t been so great after all and maybe my first hadn’t even been entirely natural. This is what happened:

My contractions started as gentle waves on a hot August day in New York. My husband was building some stone steps for a friend and I was enjoying the pleasure of knowing that my baby – 8 days over the due date – was finally ready to come. We spend the evening at home, eating, talking, playing games and eventually went to the birth centre. My excitement got squashed by the midwife telling me: You are only 2 cm. (Only! – Why not: Wow: you are starting to open. That’s great!) She said she was concerned that I might become too tired, so if things wouldn’t pick up soon she might have to send me to the hospital to be induced. I couldn’t believe it. I had lots of energy, what was she talking about?

I was frantic, wasn’t there anything I could do? – Well, yes,she said, I could drink castor oil.
Fine. Off I went, thanks to the 24-hour drug store in the States, getting castor oil at 11 pm.
The castor oil cocktail was the most horrific drink I have ever had – and it gave me the most horrific pains I have ever had. My stomach, intestines, womb everything was cramping. My contractions rushed one into the other, and I was determined to stay away from the birth centre as long as I possibly could in case they would want to send me to the hospital after all.

When I got back to the birth centre five hours later I was 6 cm. Thank God.
I paced the floors, moaned in the shower and eventually my waters broke with the urge to push.
I had been upright throughout and now suddenly my midwives told me to get on the bed. It was painful to lie on my back, but I didn’t know any better. I spent the next hour and a half pushing my son down, with harsh admonitions of ‘Hold your breath and push’ (the burst blood vessels in my cheeks and eyes told the tale for days!).

The midwife placed a huge mirror at the foot end of the bed and I could see my son appearing and disappearing until at last his head was born.

And then time stopped – this enormous head was sitting between my legs, a baby not yet in this world and yet not any longer in me either. It seemed a beautiful eternity before the next contraction brought my baby into my arms. And the joy was overwhelming, even writing it now, 17 years later, it brings tears and laughter and this strange breathless joy to me again. And I knew that it would want to be involved with this mystery of birth.

Two and a half years later my son Emanuel decided that he would like to be born on Easter Sunday, one week before his due date. So during a dinner with twelve people around the table the early contractions were focusing me on my body, on my baby. There were a lot of things to organise but eventually I could focus on being in labour. Glenn was exhausted from a long play rehearsal and so I laboured on my own for some hours. Eventually I called the midwives, who settled themselves in the living room with tea and chocolate Easter eggs. But nobody came to see me, nobody said anything, nobody told me I was doing great or asked me if I wanted my back rubbed and I felt unable to ask. The two of them were engrossed in gossip and I was in my labour bubble, light years away.
Eventually, Glenn did the back rubbing but the contractions were riding me hard and I had to beg the midwife to tell me how far I had still to go. Well, I was in transition (now I know). Again, not knowing better, I ended up pushing on my back again but this time it was only a few minutes until my surprise boy (I was so convinced he was a girl) joined me just before sunrise on Easter morning.

It was easy to think that I had had good labours, after all no hospitals, no doctors, no medications but it took me until I started my journey to become a midwife to realize how different it could have been and that although castor oil is natural it did induce my labour, when maybe my son had had different ideas.

A few years ago, I felt such a desire to become pregnant again just so that I could labour and birth in a different way, but I realized that it was now the time to support other women to make their journey through pregnancy, birth and into motherhood.

I love midwifery most when I can be a guest at the birth, quietly observing and supporting the mystery of birth unfolding.
I love it most when I know what is important to the woman and I can facilitate that for her.
I love it most when women delve into themselves and feel empowered to birth their babies.

For the last 5 years I have been working as an independent midwife, finally able to support women to make informed decisions and birth their babies in whatever way they choose to. Finally, I can give women time and attention.

And my love and reverence for women, bellies and births is growing still!

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Liz's Birth

Isabella Rose was due on 17th December 2005 but as my two other daughters are born on the 25th of the month and I had been 10 days late with Francesca (number 2) I was convinced I would have a Christmas Day baby. We were planning a home birth and my dream was to give birth in a pool in the lounge, under the Christmas tree in front of a roaring fire! Despite a false alarm before Christmas, Christmas Day came and went with no baby.

By 29th December I was getting very fed up so I went to see the reflexologist I had been seeing every week for the last few weeks of pregnancy to see if she could help get things going. While I was having the very relaxing treatment, I began to notice very mild contractions coming every 15 minutes or so. I walked home to find Richard giving Sophia (3 1/2 years) and Francesca (22 months) their tea. By 5.30pm I realised that the contractions were getting more frequent, every 5 minutes, although still mild so suggested that we gave the girls an early night. At 6.30pm the girls were in bed and Richard asked me what I wanted for dinner. “You must be joking” I replied and we then realised this must be the real thing as I never miss a meal!

We rang our independent midwife, Sue Rose, to tell her what was happening and then to pass the time I built and lit a fire in the lounge while Richard ate his dinner and filled the pool. By the time Sue arrived at 8pm I was getting moderate contractions every 3 minutes and was leaning against the piano in the lounge lit by Christmas lights and the fire. I was beginning to use the Hypnobirthing breathing that I had used for my other labours which really helped keep my calm and focussed and “in the zone”. This was all I needed to deal with the pain. Sue knew that I wanted to be left alone to get on with it so she read a book in the kitchen, coming in quietly every 20-30 minutes to listen to the baby.

I got in the pool for about an hour which was very relaxing but at 10pm I felt I needed to get out and stand up straight. The contractions became much more intense and frequent and at 11pm I apparently said “This is my last baby”. I have no recollection of this but I suspect I was in transition! I returned to the pool and wouldn’t let Sue or Richard leave my side. It was amazing because I could feel the baby moving down. Suddenly the sensation changed to a huge pressure and I felt my waters break. At 11.55pm my body began to push uncontrollably and within 2 contractions Isabella was born into the pool. She was wrapped in her cord but Sue (apparently, I couldn’t see) did a deft move to unwrap her and lift her out of the water. She asked Richard to help her pass Isabella to me but in the excitement of the moment he misunderstood her and climbed into the pool with me, fully clothed! It was a very funny and slightly surreal moment.

Richard got out of the pool and got wrapped in a towel and after about 20 minutes feeding Isabella in the pool we got out too. Richard went to wake Sophia up and I will never forget the look on her face as she walked into the room. Her eyes were like saucers and she kept saying “Baby, baby”. It was an incredible moment. She helped Richard to cut the cord then went back to bed. Once the placenta was delivered – I had a natural 3rd stage – I showered, had a bowl of porridge (a late dinner!) and we were all in bed by 2.30am including Sue who slept on a mattress in the dining room after a glass of champagne!

So in the end I got my dream. I had a completely drug-free labour and Isabella, our Christmas baby, was born at home in a pool, under the Christmas tree in front of a roaring fire, lit with fairy lights! And the kids slept through it so we didn’t need to call on anyone else. Definitely a good birth to end on…….we’ll see!

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Sam, Steve and Frankie’s Story

Little did we know when I was 36 weeks pregnant and made the decision to go for a home birth (after watching a TV programme about the state of the NHS Midwifery care) that this was going to be on of the most important decisions we have ever had to make, and one of the best decisions my husband and I have made together.

At around midday on the 13th December (4 days earlier than the estimated arrival date of our little bundle) I called Steve to say I’d been feeling what seemed like period pains throughout the morning but that it was probably nothing (had similar on and off all week!) and to go to his client lunch as planned. We arranged to speak afterwards and for him to be prepared to come home early anyway just in case. I carried on with doing bits around the house to take my mind off the feeling in my abdomen (probably in denial at this stage still!) and made a fruit crumble. At around 2pm it all felt a bit more than just period pains and I was starting to hang on to solid objects (a nice warm towel rail in the bathroom, banisters etc) and to step rhythmically on the spot until the intense feelings passed. By the time Steve got home (4pm) I was stamping my feet with what was now definitely each contraction, and really hanging onto the favoured solid object (which was by that point definitely the towel rail)! They were every 7-10 mins or so and manageable but it was nice to have been on my on for the start of the contractions so that I was able to work out my coping strategy before Steve got back - it took all my concentration to work out what was best for me. This stepping/stamping is what I kept doing almost all the way through to 2nd stage and was really effective at distracting me from the cramping feeling in my abdomen.

I think that we called our amazing Doula (Sophia Russell, who lives just along our road) at around 8.30-9pm (it was all a bit fuzzy for me at this stage but I’ve checked with Steve and he confirms this!) and she came and observed a few contractions before saying to Steve that we should call our brilliant midwife Anja K-Metzner (www.sunrisebirthing.com). Anja arrived at about 10pm (we had called her twice before this just to let her know what stage I was at, and it was on this third occasion she just knew it was time to come) and not too long after she arrived my waters broke and Anja said to get into the pool. (She did not need to do an internal examination, she just could see from my behaviour I was ready – amazing!). There was a marked feeling of relief with getting in the pool, much like getting in a warm bath with back pain, it immediately relieves you. The water immediately took the edge off the impact of each contraction. It mellowed the whole experience for me from that point and I was able to almost flow with the water with each contraction to get me through them calmly. I was also able to go into myself a lot more, I faced a blank wall, and kept everyone’s faces behind me, meaning I could focus on what I was doing and just hear them for support when it was needed.

The baby soon made it known that this was the time to assist her down the birth canal. Although this took me a little time as I had a mental block about pushing her out, and had not really got my head around that idea before the contractions had started. Anja and Sophia were brilliant, saw that this was the issue and said a few perfect sentences to me that dislodged the mental block and hence dislodged the baby, and out she came.

At this point I still couldn’t believe we had done it, had our baby girl at home, with no pain killers, and it didn’t cross my mind to ask for anything either. I am not that great at dealing with pain ordinarily I would say, but with this experience, before I could really think that this was all going to get really painful at some stage, she was here and it was over. It really took me by surprise and made me realise what I had suspected, that we women are designed for this, and the majority of the problem with the thought of natural childbirth is in the mind, based on stories of many many women having traumatic hospital births. It doesn’t have to be like that if you have a good pregnancy and the right support.

Good luck and enjoy the whole experience!

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Gabrielle and Richard’s Story

I can distinctly remember the moment I decided that I wanted a homebirth. Funnily enough I wasn’t even pregnant at the time; in fact it was a year and a half before Otis would arrive.

In 2005 I was working as an Assistant Producer on a TV series about a Maternity Unit in Yorkshire I spent five months there in total, filming many labours, and was privileged enough to actually experience one birth and one caesarean. But of course it’s not all “action” – there was a lot of sitting around in the staff room chatting to midwives, nurses, consultants and also an anaesthetist called Julian. Now most of the mums who let us film them sadly had so much medical intervention that more often than not, we ended up filming emergency caesareans. I started to think that this was the “norm”. So sitting in the staff room one day I asked Julian if he had any children. He said he had three. Three beautiful girls all born at home. I was astounded. This guy, who experienced one or more caesareans each shift? Was he crazy?! Then he explained about the Cascade of Intervention – that by simply stepping foot into hospital you’re increasing your chances of having your birth interfered with, and you’re taking a step on a cascade of intervention towards a bed ridden, monitored labour which can culminate in a Ventouse or forceps delivery, or a caesarean. He explained that if you have a healthy, “normal” pregnancy and that if the baby is in the right position, then there’s no need to go into hospital. He made me realise that some caesareans were preventable. I felt sad and enlightened and decided I would do all I could to have a natural homebirth.

So a wedding and conception later brings us to Sunday October 15th 2007. I was 39 weeks, and my husband Rich and I had spent the weekend finalising our preparations for the birth – we had hired a birthing pool which was set up and running, the rest of the room was decluttered, and the checklist from the hospital all ticked off. It was a beautiful sunny day and Rich and I went for a walk. During the walk I had stomach pains, but they were bearable and I didn’t think much of it, in fact I didn’t even bother mentioning it to Rich. That night we settled down to watch the first part of Prime Suspect (Helen Mirren will always carry a different meaning for me now!) and by the time it finished at 11pm, the stomach pains were getting stronger. We went upstairs and got ready for bed, but by 11.30 there was no denying it – these puppies were contractions! Only half an hour later they were coming regularly every ten minutes, so by midnight I was in what is classed as “Labour”. At this stage Rich hooked me up to the TENS machine, much to the amusement of our cats who thought it was great fun to pounce on the wires dangling down!

By 2:00am, the contractions were coming every 3 minutes and lasting for 45 seconds so we asked our Doula, Sophia, to come over, and also rang the hospital. Within an hour a midwife turned up who examined me and reassured me that all was going according to plan, but it would be a while longer and she decided not to stay. Of course our Doula was in for the long haul, and wouldn’t be leaving until a few hours after the birth. Having Sophia there to support Rich and I was invaluable. Whether at home or in hospital, a labouring mum will have periods of time without a midwife, and Sophia’s constant presence and reassurance that what I was going through was normal, made me feel so much calmer and in control. And knowing that she wasn’t going to disappear with a shift change, as sadly midwives do, meant I could let go and develop a trusting bond without fear of it suddenly ending. For Rich it also meant the same, and the knock on effect of him feeling reassured with the situation meant that he could relax and be there for me. This was also backed up by the fact that Rich was on his territory. Because he was at home, he felt relaxed and in control, which in turn made me feel relaxed, and also meant that he focussed on me instead of having to deal with unfamiliar surroundings.

By 3am Sophia suggested we try to get some rest so she lay on the sofa while Rich and I went back to bed. It wasn’t exactly “rest” as I was leaping out of bed every few minutes to breathe through a contraction but it was good to be calm and in bed in between and conserve my energy.

By 4.30am there was very little lying in bed and the contractions were getting stronger. Rich phoned the hospital and was told that there were no midwives available and that we’d have to go in. Now at this point, most husbands would understandably do as they’re told and bring their wife in – but Rich had been warned by a midwife at our antenatal class that this may happen and he was to stand his ground. And he did! “She’s not coming in”, he told her, and an hour later another midwife turned up. How different our experience would have been if Rich had obeyed the midwife on the phone. It makes me sad when I hear other Mums tell me that they had planned a homebirth, but were told no midwives were available so went into hospital. I’m so grateful that Rich stood up for us.

Around 5am we then decided to move downstairs to the room where the birthing pool was set up. Rich took the TENS machine off me and I suddenly discovered how efficient it had been at relieving the pain in my back! I got in the pool and with hindsight got into a zone, and it all was a bit blurry for a while…!

At 7.30am the midwives swapped shifts and the two who would deliver Otis turned up. I was so relaxed in the pool that my contractions really slowed down and were much weaker with long pauses in between. By 9am I had an urge to push but because the contractions weren’t strong it didn’t really do much. By 10am one of the midwives suggested I get out for a few contractions, as gravity wasn’t really on my side being in the pool. Reluctantly I got out – I was petrified that the water was providing pain relief and it would be agony out the water. I discovered that the pain didn’t increase and actually felt that labour started to progress again and so preferred being out.

Pushing for me was so difficult. I was having a conversation with myself, where one side of me said “Come on, push! If you push it’ll all be over so much quicker and the pain will stop!” The other side of me replied, “Are you kidding? The pain will increase – you’re about a push a little human out from between your legs – THAT’s pain!” One of the midwives recognised this and had the inspired idea of offering me gas and air. From then on there was no stopping me! Pushing was much less painful so I could push more effectively. At 11:50am on Monday 16th October 2006, after trying various positions, I delivered on bended knee leaning on Rich and looked down to see a beautiful purple screaming baby on the floor.

Within hours everyone had left, and me, Rich and Otis were lying on our bed. To this day, I’m still not sure who was more in shock! It was wonderful - because we were at home, we had everything to hand. Rich made me a fantastic fresh fruit salad, we drank cups of tea from our favourite mugs, and phoned relatives from our own bed to share our news.

That evening at 9pm, around the time that Rich would have had to leave Otis and I in hospital, all three of us went downstairs to watch the final part of Prime Suspect and find out “whodunit”. I couldn’t tell you who, as I wasn’t really focussed on the storyline, but it was great to be doing something normal and to be spending our first night together as a family.

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