How we got Solace

I knew before I got pregnant that home birth was for me. I had been feeling broody for some time, and to satisfy my cravings until we could start trying for a baby, I decided to search the internet for birth stories. I stumbled across homebirth.org and became hooked. I had previously assumed, like most people, that babies were born in hospitals and that birth was one huge crisis – waters breaking in the supermarket, the woman suddenly screaming in agony, a mad rush to the hospital and the day saved by doctors with forceps and drugs. But the stories I read were a revelation; here, birth was peaceful and natural with the woman in control and with surprisingly little talk of pain. I had to know more, so I put my research cap on and over the next few months I read everything I could find on the subject of home birth. I won’t tell you here about everything I discovered, but I was both surprised and pleased to learn that for a normal, low risk pregnancy home birth is perfectly safe and can avoid many complications that can arise from an over-medicalised birth in a hospital.

More than the safety though, was the sense that I would be in control in a safe, relaxing, comfortable environment. As I have suffered with anxiety attacks in the past, I knew that feeling safe would be paramount to a good birth experience. I had been talking to my husband, Chris, about the subject, and although he was apprehensive at first, he trusted my opinion and after doing his own research he was soon a convert. We were sold and ready to start trying to conceive. I would have a natural, drug free, home birth.

Five months later the sought-after blue line appeared, and three days after that the morning sickness arrived too. I’ve since met lots of women who claim to have had bad morning sickness “oh I was sick every day” or “whenever I cleaned my teeth” but let me tell you - that would have been a dream for me. I was sick every time I went near any kind of food or drink, and horrifically nauseated all the times in between. I couldn’t even sip water without vomiting bile and after no food or drink for 4 days and losing 9lbs in weight; I was eventually admitted to hospital for rehydration with a diagnosis of Hyper-remisis Gravidarium. My plan for a drug-free pregnancy was out of the window as I needed anti-sickness drugs every 90 minutes just to function. This lasted until week 16, by which time I had also developed Pelvic Girdle Pain (also known as SPD) and was finding walking increasingly painful. All in alI I wasn’t enjoying pregnancy! Still, I was determined that home was the place for me.

At the same time I was having increasing doubts about my NHS midwife. While she was perfectly open to my home birth plans, we weren’t exactly hitting it off personality-wise and the simple fact that we were limited to a 10 minute appointment every couple of months wasn’t helping. I had questions about the birth and wanted to get to know and trust the person who would be delivering my baby, but when I raised these issues I was told there was no time and I would have to wait until my 34 week “risk assessment” before we could talk about anything. At the same appointment my dislike of a blood test (I hate needles) provoked the remark “You need to think about pain relief – how will you handle birth if you can’t handle a blood test?” I knew that if this woman turned up on my doorstep when I was in labour I would not want to let her in. We decided to look into independent midwifes instead.

We are not especially wealthy and the thought of laying out several thousand pounds for a midwife was rather daunting, but we decided that no event was more important than the birth of our child, and agreed to take the money from the deposit we were saving for a house. The first woman we interviewed was very nice, and shared our view of birth as a natural process, but I felt like I needed to be on my best behaviour with her and that I wouldn’t be able to swear (something that seemed likely giving birth!). So we pressed on and met with Kate & Angela who were an instant success. From the moment we met them, we knew they were the right people to help us have the birth we wanted. They gave us the confidence to stick to our birth plan and know that if there were any complications, we could trust them to guide us through them and help us get back on track. Our weekly antenatal visits were a joy; they were able to answer all our questions and reassured us at every turn. As time went on, we began to feel that the intimate moment of birth was to be attended by women who were not just midwives, but also our friends.

The 40 week mark came and went and when I was a week overdue we agreed that if I reached two weeks over, then I would see a “wait-and-see friendly” consultant for monitoring. I was adamant that I wouldn’t be induced, as I really didn’t want to get into the “cascade of intervention”. I knew in my head that my baby would come out when it was ready, but in my heart I was sure it would stay in there forever - I had visions of a fully grown person sticking out of my tummy: like when a cartoon snake eats a deer and you can still see the shape of the antlers! I was huge and fed up. By ten days overdue I was telling strangers very forcibly and at great length why I wasn’t going to be induced (and enduring their horrified expressions) and on day 40+11 I was to be found marching up and down the high street hoping to shake the baby out! That evening I spent half an hour upside down, hoping the baby would move it’s hand, which I could feel was up by it’s head, as we thought that might cause a problem at the birth. Clearly this had some effect as at 4.30am on my 12th day overdue I went into labour.

I woke up needing the toilet – nothing unusual there – but as I sat on the loo, I felt something dribble between my legs and saw a pale, pinkish liquid when I wiped. I realised with a jolt that it must be my waters breaking, and that it was a contraction that woke me up. I called out to Chris, who woke up very excitedly and we sat and waited for the next contraction. It was pretty mild and I just sat, slightly stunned, on the toilet. This was it – I was finally going to have my baby - eek! We timed a few contractions and they were about 5-6 minutes apart but weren’t lasting very long and were easy to cope with, so we decided to wait until a more humane hour to call Kate. I remembered that I had a TENS machine, which we had thankfully already worked out how to use, so I stuck that on to get the endorphins pumping as soon as possible. We tried to go back to bed, but I was too excited and busy dealing with contractions, so I spent most of the morning in the bathroom while Chris got a bit more sleep.

At 6am we called Kate, who said she would get Angela to come round and check on me in an hour or so. Then we called our parents to let them know the news. From all our reading and our NCT classes we were aware that early labour can be a very slow, stop-start process, so we were half expecting everything to stop any minute, hence Chris told his mum “we’re not sure if she’s really in labour yet”. Unfortunately he made this statement just at the peak of a contraction, causing me to growl “Chris – I’m in labour!” He didn’t make that mistake again! At 7.30am Angela arrived and immediately had an impact. She placed her hand gently on my shoulder and talked me through a contraction and I realised that I had been tensing up, particularly my pelvic floor muscles. She really helped me relax and the contractions (which had been getting steadily stronger) became easier to deal with. After checking the baby’s heart rate and my blood pressure, Angela sat with me and talked about the upcoming birth, and ways of coping with the contractions, then left us alone, with instructions to call as soon as I felt I needed more support.

I found that with each contraction I became more inward focused, and less able to concentrate on the outside world. As they became more intense I needed to hold onto something to steady myself, so I moved upstairs to lean over a stack of cushions piled on the bed. I was a little alarmed at how fast things seemed to be progressing. I had thought that early labour would be a much slower affair with spaced out, irregular contractions for most of the day. I had planned to spend that time pottering about, baking cakes to eat after the birth, but already at only 4 hours in I was feeling well into established labour. I was making a low “aaahhh” moaning sound with each contraction and had turned my TENS machine up to 3, pressing the boost button each time. I needed some reassurance so we called for Kate & Angela to come round.

Angela arrived first and came up to see me in the bedroom. “So you decided you need us back already” she said. I had no idea how much time had passed (about and hour) “Oh no!” I thought, “I’ve called too soon” but another contraction was on it’s way and I knew that things were progressing and I wasn’t wasting their time . Kate arrived shortly after and after checking the baby’s heart everyone went downstairs and got to work inflating and filling the birth pool. I was left pretty much to my own devises, but just knowing that everyone was downstairs listening to me moan over the baby monitor was a big reassurance. I continued to cope with the contractions well, with our cats, Willow & Tara, keeping me company and rubbing their heads against mine in support, and with the exception of one where Willow decided to jump on my back at the peak of the contraction (bad timing!), I really wasn’t in very much pain . Time had long since lost any meaning, but at some point things started to feel different. At the end of each contraction I started to feel a little bit “pushy”, not much, but enough to alarm me a little - surely we couldn’t be that far along yet! Soon Angela arrived at my side and suggested that I might want to get into the birth pool now (I later found out that the noise I was making had changed and she had realised that things were moving along). I tried to stand upright, but felt nauseated and shaky so had to cling to her and Chris for support. I had three contractions in rapid succession going down the stairs where I had to stop and lean over the banister, but I eventually made it to the living room. I didn’t realise it at the time, but I had just gone through transition.

Next I needed to actually get into the pool - easier said than done! I was really scared of taking off my TENS machine - I was relying on the boost button to get me through each contraction and the thought of coping without it was daunting. Angela reminded me that the endorphins wouldn’t wear off right away, so I would still have the benefit in the pool. I decided to brave it and after a moments hesitation I dropped my trousers and climbed in.

Aaah! The relief was immense. My heavy bump seemed comparatively weightless in the warm water and the tension in my back was eased. I immediately felt more relaxed and in control and actually had a brief break from contractions. Bliss! I hadn’t been sure until then if I would actually give birth in the water or not, but now I was convinced - I wasn’t getting out of the pool for love nor money! I settled into an semi-upright kneeling position, resting my head and arms on the side of the pool. Chris came and knelt in front of me, holding my hands and giving me occasional drinks of water. As the contractions started up again, the urge to push was a little stronger but I was still experiencing the contractions low down and at the front and Kate and Angela were concerned that I may have a lip of cervix remaining. They told me to resist the urge and “blow the feeling away“, so I did just that - I blew raspberries on my upper arm with each contraction (I knew keeping my mouth open and my jaw relaxed would do the same to my cervix and pelvic floor). I don’t know how long I blew raspberries for, with Kate occasionally checking the babies heart rate , but eventually I just couldn’t resist anymore and I started pushing.

It felt really good to finally be able to push, I just can’t describe how overwhelming the urge is. I clung to Chris’s arms with each contraction and pushed with all my might, Chris, Kate and Angela giving me gentle encouragement and reassurance throughout. Soon Kate told me she could see the head moving down, and asked if I wanted to look in the mirror. As much as I did, I simply couldn’t move enough to see, so I just took her word for it that the baby had lots of hair and kept on pushing. The sensation of the head moving down is something akin to trying to pass a bowling ball - big, hard and round and incredibly hard work, but with each push I could feel I was making progress which was really encouraging.

As the head approached crowning I developed terrible cramp in the back of my thighs, and cried out in pain - this was really the first time I had made any complaint throughout the labour, “cramp, thighs” I grunted and everyone leaped to massage the cramp away, Chris leaning over my head and me clinging to his legs. Kate told me to resist pushing while the head was born, so I blew more raspberries and did a small amount of swearing as I felt myself stretch open with a burning, splitting sensation. Then the head was out. I was panting for breath and muttering curses while Kate declared that I had a beautiful baby while Angela informed me that with the next contraction the baby would be born. Weirdly the head no longer felt hard - it was more like a big squishy water balloon between my legs. Kate suggested I reach down and feel the head, but again I just couldn’t move enough to achieve this.

When you watch it back on the video (that Angela was filming for us) the next contraction seemed to take an age to arrive, but I was unaware of this, concentrating on breathing. Finally the next contraction arrived and with a great slithering sensation, at 13.52 my baby was born. I heard a great big cry and I immediately became much more lucid and turned round, lifting my leg over the cord to receive my new baby. Someone asked me what we had, and I took a look - a girl! We had been so convinced it was going to be a boy we were quite shocked but secretly pleased to have a little girl. She was all slimy and covered in vernix and her little face was clenched up wailing, but she was still the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. The next thing that hit me was just how hungry I was! Giving birth is a major work out and all I’d had that day was a slice of toast, so tea and Jaffa-cakes were quickly produced and I scoffed them down hungrily.

We waited for the cord to stop pulsing before Chris cut it, then I passed her to Chris who cuddled her wrapped in a towel while I tried to deliver the placenta. Easier said than done it turned out. I spent some time in the pool waiting for the placenta to come out, but no joy. So we decided I should get out of the pool and lie on the sofa. Climbing out was difficult - I was shaking like a leaf and felt really heavy back on dry land, but somehow I made it to the sofa. My new daughter was cleaned up after having done her first, merconium poo all down her daddy’s bare chest, and put to my breast where she started suckling, in the hope this would move the placenta along. I tried pushing but it was rather scary as I felt quite broken down below, and besides I desperately needed a wee. Eventually I moved to sit on the toilet and I finally felt the placenta drop down and pushed it out into the toilet (easy compared to pushing out a baby!). Meanwhile our daughter has been weighed at a healthy 8lb 8oz and had scored 9 and 10 on her APGARS
I can honestly say that the thought of using the gas and air didn’t occur to me during the labour, but I hate needles and there was no way I could even face having the local anaesthetic without some assistance, so the Entonox was wheeled out and boy was it good! I don’t think I would have liked it while I was in labour, but light headed and giddy was exactly what I needed to get through the repair of my 2nd degree tear. Soon the business of birth was over and Chris and I were tucked up in bed with our beautiful new baby girl, eating toast and honey and just marvelling at the whole day. When Kate and Angela popped in to see us the next morning we had decided on a name, Solace Louise - our baby angel, our star.

THE BIRTH AT HOME OF MAX SEBASTIAN COLLIVER
19 OCTOBER 2008
By Charlotte Colliver

As soon as I became pregnant with my first child a couple of years ago, I knew I wanted to give birth at home. It wasn’t something I’d particularly thought about until I needed to, but soon after discovering we were expecting, I mentioned the idea of a homebirth to my husband, Toby, and was thrilled to discover that, as a chiropractor, he shared my instinctive feeling that to bring our baby into the world in the comfort and privacy of our own home would be the most natural thing in the world.

We were amazed to discover, however, that not everybody shared our trust in natural birth. From my GP, who scolded me like a naughty schoolgirl for such a “silly” idea (“Let’s walk before we can run, shall we?”) to work colleagues (“They don’t hand out medals at the end, you know”) to well-meaning friends (“But what if something goes wrong?”) – everyone, it seemed, had this idea that giving birth at home was up there with base jumping and skydiving as the kind of activity undertaken only by complete lunatics.

Fortunately, my NHS midwife, was a keen advocate of homebirth and told me about a local Homebirth Support Group which meets once a month to help couples decide whether birthing at home would be right for them. Toby and I went to our first meeting when I was about 12 weeks and knew straight away that this group was going to be a lifeline. Run by two local NCT Antenatal Teachers, the meetings were a chance to ask questions, learn the facts about homebirth and listen to the experiences of couples who returned to tell their birth stories. It was also, crucially, a source of huge emotional support – when everyone else seemed to be raising their eyebrows at you for your decision, here was a place where people were receptive and supportive and didn’t think you a freak or selfish for wanting to give birth without drugs or unnecessary medical intervention.

Daisy was born on Valentine’s Day last year after a 24 hour labour. Between 4.16 am and 4.04am the next day, I watched two episodes of Sex and the City, drank pints of tea, ate toast and honey, bounced and swayed on the Swiss ball, climbed the stairs sideways, sank with relief into my birth pool, got quite cross when the pain really wasn’t funny anymore and tearful when, after an exhausting two-hour second stage, my beautiful, wide-eyed daughter was placed on my chest and a duvet wrapped around us both. The NHS midwives ran me a lavender bath and before long, Toby and I were left to snuggle up in bed and marvel at this little bundle between us.

When I became pregnant again a year later, I was immediately excited about another homebirth. I knew what to expect now and couldn’t wait to see how this one would compare to my last experience. The pregnancy was straight-forward and, although far more exhausting with a toddler to run around after, I’d been having regular chiropractic treatments throughout so was comfortable and full of energy as I hit 36 weeks. My NHS midwife again visited me at home to deliver the soft pack (a box containing the bits and pieces the midwives will need at the birth) and took me through the check list of things I was supposed to be aware of prior to a planned homebirth. In this list were the circumstances under which the attending midwives would want me to transfer to hospital. One of these was if my labour wasn’t “progressing”. I asked the midwife what was meant by this and she explained that “we’d want you to be dilating about a centimetre an hour”. Already feeling the pressure to perform, I was further stunned to find out that I would be “allowed” to push for an hour, after which time I would be “blue-lighted in”. I queried this and said that I’d had a perfectly safe and straight-forward two-hour second stage with Daisy and been able to stay at home, so why would I need to transfer in this time? The midwife explained what I presumed to be NHS policy – that as second births are “usually quicker”, babies should be out “within two pushes” and if they aren’t, it usually means there’s a problem. I was dumbfounded. If there was one thing I knew from the numerous birth stories I’d read and everything I’d learnt at the Homebirth Support Group, it was that each and every birth is unique, that what one woman experiences will be totally different to another. Some women have incredibly quick labours and push their babies out in a matter of minutes; others will labour on and off for days or have second stages marked by long rest periods. I was now worried that if I continued with my planned NHS homebirth, I would more than likely end up going into hospital for the simple reason that my baby was taking longer than he or she was “allowed” to. Daisy had been a healthy size – 8lbs 8oz – and I have narrow hips: there was therefore a reason she inched her way down the birth canal rather than shooting out. Instinct told me that this baby would also take his or her time to enter the world, so as soon as the midwife left, I called Toby and told him I wanted to see whether Angela Horler, who we’d come to know from the Homebirth Support Group, and who is also an Independent Midwife, could deliver our baby. He agreed that Angela was our best chance of having a birth where nature, not hospital policy, led the way. I emailed Angela and explained why I was approaching her so close to the birth and, to this day, one of the most joyful moments of my life was receiving her reply: “To my dear Charlotte, I would consider it an absolute privilege to care for you…”

Five days before my due date, a Thursday, I attended one last Homebirth Support Group meeting. As I was leaving, Angela looked at me and said she had a sense I’d be calling her that weekend. I said that I, too, had a weird feeling something was going to happen over the next few days but that as Daisy had been 9 days past her due date this one was probably going to go over as well. On the Saturday night, having been nesting like mad all day – ironing Toby’s shirts, making a huge lasagne and vacuuming every inch of floorspace – we were putting Daisy to bed when suddenly, without warning, she threw up all over us. It turned out later that she must have caught a bug from a playmate who’d been sick all week, but at the time it seemed to come from nowhere. Once we’d cleaned her up and tucked her up in bed, we went downstairs and I started feeling decidedly queasy. Putting it down to having just dealt with Daisy, I tried to ignore my increasing nausea and made sure I ate something. By the time we got into bed later that night, however, I was lying very, very still, convinced that if I so much as turned over, I would throw up, but if I stayed motionless, I would drop off to sleep and feel better by morning. Soon after midnight, I woke up with a start and was promptly sick over the side of the bed. Praying Toby hadn’t heard me, I made it to the bathroom just in time for round two. All I could think about was how rotten the timing was. Labour was surely imminent and here I was, pale and shaky and dealing with a nasty stomach bug. How on earth could I deal with contractions if I was being so desperately sick? By 4.30am I felt safe enough to leave the bathroom and came downstairs to get a glass of water. It was then that I felt a faint griping sensation in my tummy. Thinking it was just an ache from all the vomiting, I ignored it. Then it happened again a couple of minutes later. And then again. By 4.52am they were strong enough for me to realise that these were definitely contractions. It dawned on me that what my body had been doing for the past 4 hours was expelling absolutely everything in preparation for birth. (Whether I’d caught whatever Daisy had and it had kick-started labour, or whether it was the beginning of labour itself, who knows). I paged Angela and half an hour later there was a soft tap at the door. Despite feeling so horrible, it was such an exciting moment. In the darkness and the silence, with the rest of the world asleep and unawares, here was my midwife, my friend, coming to be with me while I gave birth to my baby.

Angela was smiling and calm and reassuring. Toby had come downstairs to make tea and by this point I was needing to lean over the Swiss ball and breathe through the contractions. Angela felt my tummy and discovered that Max was still lying back to back, so suggested I get on all fours for the next couple to encourage him to turn. She then suggested I get into the bath and for some reason I felt very strongly that I didn’t want Toby there. Looking back I must have sensed that things were moving much more quickly this time and I needed to be on my own with Angela until I’d got a grip. Angela filled the bath and suggested I lie on my left side to continue to encourage Max to move round. Contractions were very intense by this stage and I remember focussing on the sensation of Angela pouring water up and down my body, first with a jug and then with the shower head. It’s amazing how your memory of labour becomes very hazy and trying to recall it now, it’s like a series of snapshots: Toby at the side of the bath with a glass of elderflower cordial and a straw; my asking for gas and air only to push it away; a massive contraction, long and brutal in its intensity, Angela asking me whether I want to get out and me snapping back, “I don’t know!”; moving from the bathroom to the bedroom, my legs heavy and trembling; hearing Angela put on her gloves and unfolding a plastic sheet and realising that she must think the baby’s about to come; kneeling at the foot of my bed and wishing it were more comfortable; feeling exhausted and climbing onto my bed, grateful to be able to collapse on my side; hearing Daisy wake up and then the voice of my mother-in-law as she came to collect her, praying to God she wouldn’t hear me mid-contraction; feeling so tired, so tired… Angela suggesting I try and go to the loo; sitting on the loo and calling out “I can feel a burn!” and Angela’s calm voice coming back, “OK” and me thinking “What do you mean, OK?! The head must be crowning!”… Leaning over the bathroom sink, gripping the taps, and as each spontaneous push surged through me, blowing across the knuckles of my right hand, just as Angela had shown me... Feeling as if I was about to split in two, telling Angela “I can’t do this, I can’t do this!” and her replying “Yes, you can”… Feeling Max’s head emerge and then, what felt like an eternity later, his body easing its way out and my body feeling so light and empty; Angela telling me to sit down and take my baby and me thinking how long he was; Toby saying, “It’s a boy”… “Hello you”, I say over and over, overwhelmed at the wonderment of him.

Sitting on the bathroom floor, I cradled my minute-old son while Angela observed me for a natural third stage. I was beginning to feel slightly light-headed and was grateful to be able to lean against Toby while being guided by Angela to push the placenta gently out. I’d suffered a tear, but thankfully it was neat enough to be left to heal naturally, so I avoided stitches this time. With sunlight now streaming in through the bathroom window, Toby helped me to bed where, with a bit of encouragement, Max latched on and had his first feed. Bliss.

Noah’s Birthday
19th May, 00:10 2003

My first two children were born in hospital: I had never really considered alternative options as hospital is ‘where you go’ and I had no idea about home birth as a choice or about the evidence supporting this as a safe option. No-one ever offered it so it was not on the agenda.

I had already considered that I would do things differently if I had another baby, for me this meant having a female birth partner (my wonderful husband struggled with this role) and have a ‘normal’ birth. My first two labours, whilst normal on paper, were medically managed with a syntocinon drip (to speed things up) and an epidural as the pain was too intense. Both of those labours had also been ‘posterior’ or back-to-back and were very hard to deal with prior to the numbing effect of the epidural.

When I fell pregnant with number three I was really excited and knew that this time I would plan a home birth. I was now training as an NCT antenatal teacher and my wide reading around birth, the evidence about place of birth and my understanding of the importance of feeling ‘safe’ in order to labour well helped me to make this informed decision. I was also far more aware about Optimal Foetal Position so felt really positive that I would have a different experience this time!

D-Day!
A week past my due date (boring!) and I climbed into bed with an inkling that I might meet this baby soon. At around 3am I woke to find I was leaking – as with my first two babies my waters had broken. Hurrah – no more waiting! After waking Ben and instructing him to fit the TENS machine, I went back to bed for a few more hours, finally getting up at around 6am, when I called my birth partner Helen, rang the hospital to contact the NHS community midwife and to get on with some ironing!

About 7ish everyone arrived at once, and I was fine – not really having contractions but feeling well and still leaking fluid. The midwife did a vaginal examination (VE) (which I now know was not necessary and put me and my baby at risk of infection), declared I was not in labour (duh – of course not, no contractions!) and left us. I went back to bed but could not really sleep, so spent the next few hours watching videos, eating, chatting and leaning over the birth balll. My daughters were playing around me and it was quite a chilled morning.

Around 11ish the midwife returned, preformed another VE and confirmed I was still not in labour (even I knew this – I was not contracting) and left again. At around 2ish she telephoned and said if I did not have the baby by 6pm I would have to go into hospital as there would be no midwife to come. No pressure there then.

Feeling anxious now and worried about having a midwife, I spent a few hours walking up and down stairs, eating some more, and trying to get myself into labour. By 5pm although I was having contractions, I knew that my time was running out and I could feel my lovely home-birth slipping out of my reach.

At about 730pm I called the hospital and said we were coming in: I was having regular contractions that were not really that strong, but I wanted to settle into the birth room and perhaps use the pool. We arrived not long after, only to find that there were no midwives on the labour ward, the pool was closed, there were no birth balls and no bean bags. I got really quite cross at this point and wondered why we had bothered going in – everyone was lovely but that was NOT THE POINT! After a long conversation with the Community Manager a midwife was found who would support me at home – so with another examination (my poor vagina) and confirmed as (you guessed it) not in labour, we fled the labour ward and returned home.

As I arrived back on my doorstep,I had a HUGE contraction and the relief flooded through me – I was going to have this baby at home! I then went and had a lovely long candle-lit bath, where I focused on breathing through the contractions that had suddenly become very very strong. The midwife arrived at around 1030pm and was quiet, calm, and unobtrusive. Perfect. We set the living room up for the birth, and I went for a stroll into the kitchen and then decided I was going for a lie-down as I felt very tired.

Upstairs, I lay down for about two minutes and then could not stay still – moving onto all fours I felt really overwhelmed by the contractions and the midwife offered me some Entonox – which I refused. I was worried that I was still in early labour and begged her to examine me. With my first two babies I had never progressed past 3cm without an epidural and this was worrying me. The midwife examined me whilst I stayed on all fours, and then calmly whispered that I was 5cm. 5CM – YIPPEE - I had got passed 3cm all by myself. I took that entonox very quickly and started breathing heavily with it, vaguely hearing the midwife tell me she was going to call her second midwife.

10 minutes later as she appeared at the top of the stairs, I was really starting to loose it – I demanded that Ben be right next to me, Helen on the other side, and my entonox firmly wedged into my mouth. I remember at this point saying I could not do it anymore, and then the midwife whispered into my ear: ‘yes, you can’ and then she repeated ‘yes, you can.’ It was all I needed, as with an almighty roar (or mooing) I pushed my baby out in about two huge contractions, turned over and scooped him into my arms. It was incredible and such a triumph – I still get tearful when I think about it.

The midwives finally helped me into the bath, tucked me and my baby into bed and left as quietly as they had arrived. Noah fed beautifully and continued to do so until he was 2½ years old. As for me – well I knew that I had to be a midwife and my vocation was sealed!

He was the right way up for him....

My birth story seems to begin a week or two before my labour started. I had been planning a homebirth right from the beginning of my pregnancy - I had always felt that pregnancy was not an illness and birth was a natural process, not necessarily something in need of medical intervention. I considered myself very lucky to be in a region where homebirth was relatively well-supported on the NHS (5% rate). I was fit, healthy and ticked all the boxes - and continued to do so for the next 38 weeks.

Then I had a few days of raised blood pressure, requiring a day in the hospital for monitoring and CTG. And a scan "just to double-check the presentation", a stupid formality I believed at the time. But no, it turned out he really was breech. I was no longer the model homebirth candidate - I had a become an "obstetric problem", a primip with an "unproven pelvis" and no choice but to have an elective section at 39 weeks.

I didn't like the thought of that and spent the next week speaking to obstetricians, hospital midwives, community midwives and independent midwives - receiving a very different message from each group, most of which were horror-stories concerning "trapped heads", prolapsed cords and nuchal arms, as well as more general warnings that a vaginal delivery would risk damaging my baby and that I should opt for the section. To her credit, my consultant did not try to persuade me to go for the elective - but did strongly recommend "an epidural to stop me pushing and forceps to slow down the delivery", a recommendation that made the section sound much less unappealing to me and one that was contraindicated in some of the other information I was reading.

I made the point that they should not be withdrawing my homebirth and everyone agreed that that could/would not happen. BUT my community midwives told me they had very little breech experience and would be very worried about being present. It didn't exactly fill me with confidence about fighting for my rights, I felt this was now about safety.

We considered various turning options but somewhat half-heartedly. My gut feeling was that he was breech for a reason and wanted to stay that way. I didn't like the thought of ECV - it seemed too forced. I had a moxibustion treatment with my acupuncturist and I don't think my baby had ever felt so still! But interestingly he felt different afterwards, kicking in a different way so I believe he shifted. The two scans I had suggested that he had switched from flexed breech to extended breech - the consultant said this was highly unlikely at such late gestation (and that the first scan was inferior quality so misleading) but, again, gut feeling was telling me that he'd changed to a position more conducive to labour.

Once I'd read the RCOG guidelines, the results of the Hannah et al. (2000) trial - and the criticisms which followed - and books on breech birth by Jane Evans and Benna Waites I started to feel that the horror stories I was being force-fed were perhaps not the opinions of professionals with much experience of breech birth (as distinct from breech delivery). But I was also worried that maybe the positive stories of breech birth were a little too "rose-tinted" - as suggested by my consultant.

An invaluable 3-hour consultancy with Mary Cronk dispelled that worry and we started to understand the mechanics of how a breech birth proceeds when not interfered with. We came away feeling that not only was homebirth still my preference, it also felt the safest option provided that we were able to find an experienced midwife. While by this point I had been offered experienced midwife cover in the hospital, I found it hard to trust that staffing levels would guarantee continuous care from these experienced midwives and allow for my labour to progress smoothly. It felt like a reasonable back-up plan but still not my preference.

I spent the next 30 hours desperately trying to find an independent midwife with breech experience, and preferably Mary's recommendation, who could take me on at short notice. Eventually, and having spoken to many wonderfully helpful - but unavailable - IMs, we found Lynn. Little did we realise how short this notice really was - following a few contractions which woke me up during the night, I was in established labour within about 9 hours of confirming our midwife. I was in denial for a while, I couldn't believe it was such a close call, but eventually had to admit that the contractions had been regular for a couple of hours and we needed to phone Lynn and bring our meeting time forward to NOW!

The first stage lasted about 6 hours. I started off in the bath while my husband inflated and filled the birth pool in the kitchen. Transferring to the pool felt wonderful with its additional water and soft sides. Lynn was on the way, albeit temporarily delayed on the M25 which had us worried for a bit. We'd never met but, thanks to Mary's recommendation, I knew I could trust her - something that I feel was key to the whole birth progressing so well - and I felt such an overwhelming sense of calm once she arrived at our house. Our backup midwife, Angela, (who I did know from previous NCT classes) arrived soon after.

Within about an hour of their arrival, I started to feel the contractions intensify and sitting in the pool was no longer comfortable. I needed to be on my knees and it was around this point that I think my waters went.
Second stage was starting and soon I would know whether there was any truth in the scaremongering stories of how damaged my baby would be. If I have any regrets it was that I had let these thoughts be planted in my head and never quite let go of them until he was in my arms. In fact, this thought was so uppermost in my mind that I genuinely forgot that asking for pain-relief was ever an option.

The midwives helped me out of the pool into a kneeling position leaning on my husband. I had forgotten whether I was supposed to be "praying" like a Christian or a Muslim at this point(!) but I think it was a good thing and allowed me to go with what felt right instead - this tended to be something in between and eventually with my right knee raised. Having been told how quick a breech birth tended to be, the next couple of hours felt very long - there were times when I felt very worried that things weren't progressing and that Lynn would say I needed to transfer. What felt to me like a little bottom hanging out of me was actually only peeping out occasionally. But finally he was "fully rumped" (my vocabulary has increased no end in the last few weeks...) and literally dropped out of me alarmingly quickly during the next two contractions - the potential "trapped head" beautifully released by Lynn's advice to lean right forwards to widen my pelvis.

He was not breathing initially - luckily I was blissfully unaware at the time - but Lynn encouraged me to cuddle and rub him. No formal resuscitation was needed although I'd been aware it was common in breech births. His initial APGAR was 6 which horrified me until Lynn (and later
Mary) reassured me that it was high for a breech baby. It increased to 10 within a few minutes. He didn't cry much then or in the following days, instead making lots of rooting noises - coupled with amazingly strong head movements. We had lots of skin-to-skin contact immediately and over the next few days/weeks, feeding whenever he wanted and cosleeping to make this easier. He's found his voice more now but is still usually a delightfully contented, but expressive, baby and I can't help but attribute this to the calm and relaxed manner in which he entered the world. With Lynn and Angela helping me stay so relaxed, his birth was almost an anti-climax after the stressful lead up to it (I was still ranting about hospital policies minutes after he was born!) but obviously I wouldn't want it any other way.

I continued with Lynn and Angela's post-natal care for the following month and it shocked me how much I looked forward to their visits and trusted their advice, compared with my usual need to check research papers following conversations with my consultant and community midwives. Next time I book Lynn/Angela it will definitely be earlier than 39 weeks into my pregnancy.....

 

The Re-birth of Frederick Anthony Barton Welch

Vaginal Birth can be an empowering, life-changing experience for many women; it can also be a hard, traumatic birth for others and for some women, the right way for their baby to be born is by caesarean section.

In the UK at present the C-section rates varies, and is on average hitting the 25% mark consistently. According to the World Health Organisation (WHO) this rate is too high (we should be around the 10% mark), and many women are having unnecessary surgery that has implications for both the mother and baby. Caesarean birth however can be a life-saving and much needed intervention, and for my client, was the way that her baby – Freddie – made his way into the world.

Cat and Jules booked independent midwifery care almost as soon as they confirmed their pregnancy! They interviewed myself and my then partner Kate, as well as other Independent Midwives (IM’s), and chose to book with us.

Cat and Jules are both chiropractors and Cat also specialises in paediatric cranial sacral therapy: having researched their options they were planning a home-water birth. A vaginal birth was not just something ‘nice’ that they wanted to do: working in the field that they do, they are very aware of the importance that birth plays in the stimulation of the baby, that the process of moving through the birth canal is essential to the baby’s lungs functioning properly and ‘switching on” the skin’s sensory nervous system. We discussed at length many times the couple’s feelings around intervention, and Cat’s very strong personal belief that she would rather have a caesarean section then under-go an augmented labour with a Syntocinon drug (that produces huge, artificial contractions) or an assisted delivery with forceps or ventouse; having treated many babies who had suffered injury through such a birth, Cat felt that this was not the way for her baby to be born.

Cat’s labour started on a Sunday evening about a week after her due date. I had been to see Cat earlier that day as she called me for a chat and to let me know she had had a ‘show’, felt damp and was unsure if her waters had gone. Everything was fine and Cat’s body was clearly getting ready to birth her baby, so I left her and waited to hear from her when she felt she needed her midwife! I was called out at around 11pm that night, and Cat was having beautiful strong, regular contractions and entered the pool in the early hours of the morning.

Labour seemed to change for Cat at around 5am, and I suggested she leave the pool for a bit of a walk..... my instincts were telling me that something felt not quite right, and when I checked Cat’s BP I found it to be very high – to high to really stay at home safely. With great reluctance and sadness from everyone, we transferred into hospital.

Cat’s labour did slow down, and despite frequent, strong - almost bullying - suggestions from the hospital team, Cat declined to have her waters broken and to have her labour augmented. Cat was well supported throughout the day and as her midwife I provided advocacy for her against the pressures of the hospital staff. It took a few reminders that we had transferred in for raised BP – not because we were concerned with a slow labour, which soon became the primary focus of the labour ward staff!

Labour eventually stalled and Cat’s cervix did not dilate past 7cm despite trying everything (other than drugs). Freddie was born by Caesarean section later that evening – it was a decision made by Cat who remained as in-control as she could throughout her labour.

Once Cat and Freddie were back home, Cat asked me about ‘Re-birthing’. I had used the technique of returning mother and baby back to the water if there were breastfeeding problems and had found this really successful at re-establishing feeding, but Cat also wanted to include touch and massage for Freddie in a way that would ‘re-birth’ him, mimicking the movement through the birth canal. When Cat explained that this would help with activating part of his nervous system I did not hesitate to support her..........

One-week after Freddie was born, we met at Cat and Jules home: grandma, grandpa and Cat’s birth partner Hemi where there along with Cat and Jules to celebrate Freddie’s rebirth. Jules had spent the afternoon filling the birth-pool (it was still set-up from the planned home birth), and the room was warm and inviting. Cat undressed (just wearing post-birth knickers!) and Jules donned his swimming trunks... the rest of us remained dressed, and little Freddie was naked. Cat sat next to the pool, and Jules knelt at her feet, and placing Freddie in the ‘optimal position’ for birth, Cat placed her hands low against her pelvis, making a small ‘circle’ for Freddie to pass through (this represented the birth-canal). Hemi and I eased Freddie down through Cat’s loving circle of hands, all the while massaging Freddie along his body in a rhythmically, squeezing embrace (this represented the uterine contractions and the squeezing of the birth canal), and Jules ‘welcomed’ Freddie into his waiting arms once he had been moved down and through the circle of hands. Freddie remained awake and alert but never cried throughout this.

Immediately following Freddie’s ‘birth’ into his fathers arms, Cat, Jules and Freddie climbed into the pool together and welcomed their beautiful baby boy into their family, as they would have done if he had been born in that pool. It was absolutely beautiful and I was amazed and surprised by how emotional I found the experience myself! I am known to cry often at births, and this felt like a really special birth. Cat’s face was jubilant – and as she climbed out of the pool a little later, she looked into my eyes and said to me “he’s mine now. I feel that I have birthed him and I feel healed from his caesarean.” Freddie was passed into his waiting Grandmothers arms, and there were tears and smiles from everyone present. It was a very powerful experience.

Cat and Jules gave me the honour of dressing Freddie, who was soft and relaxed; up until that point he has always laid with his legs straight out, but we all noticed how he tucked his knees in and had returned to the foetal position. Freddie slept deeply for many hours, and we all felt we had been part of something very special.

Caesarean birth is still the birth of a baby – it’s just a very different birth; Freddie’s re-birth was a very positive experience and may benefit other families who have had a difficult caesarean birth.

Cats Experience....
As a Chiropractor and Cranial practitioner that has specialised in treating pregnant mums and children I had heard through the grapevine of re-birthing after a c-section but I had never attended one.  Like giving birth I knew about it in theory but had never done it. 
It is widely acknowledged that the passage through the birth canal with it's rhythmic pulsations is essential for activating the afferent nerves and the moulding of the plates of the skull activate certain reflexes so that the journey is felt to 'switch on' the nervous system.  Thus when things didn't go quite according to plan and instead of my beautiful home birth in a pool I ended up having to be unzipped to deliver my darling boy I was determined for the sake of his nervous system (once a Chiropractor always a Chiropractor) to rebirth him!
What I hadn't expected and what overwhelmed me was the effect the experience had on me!  I felt my son really looked at me for the first time and in that stare we fell in love!  Of course I loved him from the moment I saw him but in this moment I fell "in love"!  And the euphoria I felt was extraordinary!  It was pure ecstasy! My son slept for the longest period he had ever (and at 5 months he hasn't matched it yet) and is a happy, healthy, robust little boy who is full of smiles!

Cat and Jules are looking forward to planning a HBAC when they decide to have a brother or sister for Freddie. They run The Barron Clinic in Walton, Surrey www.barronclinic.co.uk