Birth

Birth - where to even begin?

I guess without conception there is no birth.

We conceived Gracie in July of 2021 in Sydney, she was a quintessential lockdown baby. What else do you do if you’re stuck at home with nothing to do?

The lockdown in Sydney was heating up and we could tell it was going to be long and hard. Suddenly I was faced with a DESPERATE need to escape.  Within a week we had sold everything, packed the car and drove north. We had two week’s temporary accommodation at a family’s house, it was here that my pregnancy symptoms truly kicked in.

Sipping divine homemade orange juice hand squeezed from Lachlan’s aunties backyard tree.

I was moody af, exhausted and could not survive without a midday nap. My mum kept telling me that I sounded pregnant and me being totally in denial dismissed that thought completely.

Desperate to find a home and some permanence in the crazy world of 2021, we applied for any and all rentals up and down the east coast of NSW. After two weeks of desperately trying we were given the most beautiful heritage farm house to call home for 3 months in Yamba.

It was when we finally arrived at our little piece of paradise that Lachlan finally asked me what was causing my horrendous mood and general exhaustion. It was then that I told him (maybe yelled at him) that I was probably pregnant and to get me a test when he was out. 🤬😡

At this point in time I was refusing to go to the shops because I couldn’t deal with the questions and glares that came with not wearing a mask - and don’t even get me started on cooking dinner.

I had always dreamed of those two lines, of telling Lachlan we were pregnant in a beautiful and emotional way. Tears, laughter and amazement…

This didn’t happen. I peed on the stick and was flabbergasted when I saw the second line pop up. Mutely showed it to him…and we didn’t speak for 30 minutes.

I was confused. Pregnant - now…when the world seemed like it was falling apart? How could I be happy? What world was I bringing my baby into? I couldn’t even go to the grocery store without being accosted to cover my face and check in…

Within 12 hours I had told everyone I knew that I was pregnant. I was gradually adjusting to the change, while still unsure how to progress. My mum kept hounding me to go to a doctor, but I just couldn’t. Doctors were the last place I wanted to be at this time, and what would they really tell me? Simply confirm that I’m pregnant… I knew that.

I also knew I wanted to stay as far as possible away from the medical system which from my point of view had gone completely nuts at this point.

I was reading stories of how a mother in Queensland had their newborn taken away for a week because they tested positive. I had heard from multiple people that they wouldn’t be allowed to have their support person in the hospital… I was scared, I was scared to step into a hospital, a doctors, anywhere and have people force their covid narrative on me.

During that initial month after I found out I was pregnant I went through a deep spiritual transition. It was at this point that I felt into my intuition and checked in with the divine and realised that my baby would be okay, just as she was.

I decided I wanted a birth that was as free as possible. To me that meant - no ultrasounds, no tests, no doctors, no hospitals.

I purchased The Complete Guide to Freebirth and began to grow my understanding of physiological birth. I quickly realised that I didn’t want an actual ‘freebirth’, I wanted a homebirth with a midwife who I had hand picked and trusted unequivocally.

Gradually over time I began calling midwife’s and trying to find someone in the Yamba area who would be suited to attending my birth. I didn’t have many options, and the initial ones I called simply were not what I was looking for.

It was when I was around 12 weeks that Lach and I drove to Lismore to visit Bron at the Lismore Birth House (I just got shivers remembering - fate is a funny thing).

Upon entering the safety of The Birth House and meeting Bron I was instantly put a peace. This was it. The place was decorated beautifully, the consultation room was homey and welcoming… the furtherest thing from a sterile hospital room, with warming herbal remedies, artwork, and a library of books… and more than that A MASKLESS Bron. I would be easy to downplay the significance of this, but having just left Sydney and feeling utterly alone while the world went crazy, seeing the stable loving WHOLE face of Bron truly made me feel human again.

I was exited to call my mum, tell her I was roughly twelve weeks and that I had found the perfect midwives and put HER heart at ease.

Every week from then on we started making the 1.5 hour drive to Lismore to go to weekly birth classes. During these drives through the rolling green hills, we gradually feel in love with Lismore.

At this point we were told by our landlords that we would have to vacate our farmhouse and thus we would not be able to birth there.

Again we started applying for another rental any and all properties in Lismore, it was nice to know we would be closer to The Birth House…and the hospital - just in case.

We were again blessed with the perfect house in Mckees Hill. I didn’t know then, but the significance of the Hill would be massive.

We were still planning on birthing at the actual birth house when in the week between Christmas and New Year’s we were told that Bron was unwell and was closing shop.

Amazingly there was no panic, as I had met Natalie at a consultation and instantly feel in love. I left our first meeting hoping that she would be the midwife on duty when I went into labour. I also miraculously had her phone number - because I missed an appointment - and instantly messaged her asking her to be my midwife. She of course said yes.

From this point on, Nat came to my house for every appointment. She respected every one of my wishes and gave me expert advice that helped me make sound decisions. This continuation of care allowed me to get to know her and trust her fully. It was during this time that we discovered that we had gone to the same high school and grown up in the same suburb - it was totally meant to be.

***

Over the next few months Gracie continued cooking and Nat kept coming to my house, reassuring and supporting me.

It was when I was 36 weeks pregnant that we hit our first hurdle - the catastrophic Lismore Floods. It was now that I truly appreciated the hill in McKees Hill that we just happened to call home.

Amongst the destruction the roads were closed and I was stuck at home completely alone, just me and little Gracie in my belly. Lachlan was stuck at work and Nat was stuck at home with minimal phone reception.

Thankfully I just knew that I would be okay, I wouldn’t go into labour and everything would be fine.

Some kangaroo seeking refuge from the floods.

The morning of the floods I woke up, to a beautiful newborn calf. I took this as a beautiful sign!

On my actual due date the second flood occurred. The roads were closed again, thankfully Lachlan was home with me and Nat could get to me, it would just take over three hours.

There was no need to worry, because I didn’t go into labour that week… or the next week, or the week after that.

Friends and family were concerned. What if you don’t go into labour? What will you do!? Have you thought about an induction?

My phone wouldn’t stop and frankly it was really pissing me off. I wanted everyone to just leave me be, it was hard enough to be patient without their constant (and loving) concern.

I realised now that in future pregnancies I wouldn’t tell ANYONE my due date.

Nat was amazing, she honoured me and respected me. Never trying to pressure me, instead she just offered me gentle advice and honest thoughts.

Nat, like I, knew that Gracie would be born when she was ready…

It turns out that Gracie wasn’t ready until I was 42 + 5. Massively overdue by hospital standards.

It was at 8.30pm on the **th of April when Lachlan was rubbing my feet that I felt my first contraction. It was painful enough that I had to sit up - had I just wet my pants?

I went to the bathroom and realised that I no, it wasn’t wee, my waters had just broken - it was on.

I instantly messaged Nat and sent her a photo of my wet pants. She was happy with the colour of my waters and told me to get some rest, it could be ages.

Half an hour into my rest, I realised there was no chance of sleep. I couldn’t lay down and my contractions were coming every 5 minutes.

I had sent Lachlan to bed too, because I thought I would easily be able to handle early labour by myself… I had planned to calmly set the space and even planned to make a delicious birthday cake for Gracie - LOL!

All dreams of calmly setting my space and rhythmically rocking to my birth playlist went out the window.

My beautifully prepared birth space.

I was in and out of the shower, trying to find a sense of calm because this was bad…really bad. After maybe an hour of solitude I went and got Lach. I needed help with the birth pool, I’m a water baby and I just needed to be in the warm embrace of the water.

Before I got in the pool I went to the toilet and noticed that there was a lot of blood… my bloody show was much bloodier than I had anticipated.

I called Nat “there is a lot of blood” I uttered. She calmly told me she was on her way and that it was okay.  So I flushed the toilet and got in the bath, and simply tried to hold on. Surely…SURELY this wasn’t early labour!

As I waited for Natalie, labouring in the tub, I began hoping and praying that this wasn’t ‘early labour’, please please please let me be in ‘active labour’.

Nat and I had discussed my birth plan and my dream of having a hands off birth. No cervical checks - because they don’t tell us much. We even discussed the things she could say if we did do a check, to make me feel like we were making progress and not to dishearten me.

I was acutely aware that due to my ability to talk and form sentences I was probably not in active labour. But I was hopeful, so as soon as Nat arrived I asked her to check me.  She checked me and began telling me that rehearsed sentence designed to not dishearten me.

I was disheartened. I was upset. I was angry. This is just the beginning. How could this be just the beginning?

I felt like an animal trapped in a cage with no escape - and I needed an escape.

I remember crying, I just wanted the pain to stop. I was done. This was done. We were going to hospital.

“I want an epidural” I cried. “We need to go to hospital, I can’t do this.” I begged. I said all of this while looking directly at Lach. I distinctly remember the look on his face as he shook his head.

The plan was always that I would have to beg at least ten times before we went to hospital.

Despite this I was pissed off - “DONT YOU SHAKE YOUR FUCKING HEAD AT ME!” I screamed and threw the metal hose at him.

At this point I looked at Nat and she was calm and angelic. She said, “look, we can go to hospital, but there will be strangers and bright lights…or you can go inside yourself and find your strength and you can birth your baby here”.

It turns out that was exactly what I needed to hear. So I closed my eyes, Lach went to lay down. And minute by minute, contraction by contraction, I found my strength.

I went silent and inside myself. I held on to my combs for dear life as the earth quakes rippled through my back and stomach. For the next four hours the only words uttered inside my head was “JESUS CHRIST!” (Literally on repeat for hours and hours).

Nat was a saint, silently heating up the pool and switching out my hot water bottle (which was glued to my back). I would silently look up at her with puppy dog eyes and she would calmly and softy assure me that everything was okay.

This went on until I opened my eyes and saw the sunrise through the curtains, symbolising the passing of time.

It was then - seeing the sun - that I determined we were done. This baby was coming out - it has been long enough.

I consciously decided to push. I didn’t care what happened. This baby was coming.

I actually found pushing much easier than the previous part of labour. I knew that once the contraction started I had five pushes and it would be over. This helped me a lot, and gradually Gracie came down.

There was no need for cervical checks. I simply slipped a finger in and felt her head slowly but gradually descend.

Crowning was absolutely hectic. The intensity is almost indescribable. I remember in the moment I determined it was like pushing a tree out sideways.

My primal groans made me thankful we were on property and not closer to civilisation. As her head came down and out I yelled “I CAN FEEL IT RIPPING…ITS TEARING!”

After two hours of intense and forceful pushing, into a pool of shit and blood Gracie was born. All I could utter was “I did it!”. She was upside down, Nat pushed her through my legs…and I lost her in the water for a little while.

Eventually I grabbed her and she was choking on filthy water, as I contently took my time unravelling her cord and finally we helped her clear her throat - I was in no rush.

At 8.30am our daughter was born.

For about 40 minutes I held her in the bath, in awe of what just happened.

Eventually I got out of the bath and cocooned naked on our couch, wrapped in towels and blankets we rested.

My placenta was as stubborn as Gracie, determined to be birthed on its own time. So I was given a shot of oxytocin and with some forceful massage the placenta came - birth was over.

I had tea and some toast as I held my Easter baby.

Eventually I got up to have a shower so we could check out my vagina and see that everything was okay. I had lost a decent amount of blood and we already knew I tore a bit.

I sat in the warm shower for about 40 minutes, enjoying the warmth, perhaps a bit too much. As when I stood up I felt faint and apparently lost consciousness (something I deny to this day).

With much effort I crawled and was carried to our bedroom, where they checked me and determined I had a second - maybe third degree tear.

An ambulance was called when I had fainted, so we took our time. I wanted to stay home and be stitched up, but everyone thought I may had had a third degree tear in my butthole, so they wanted to make sure it was stitched in the bright lite and sterile hospital.

This turned out to be a massive blessing, as the pain of the examination and the actual stitches were significant. In the hospital I was able to happily puff away on my gas and air, totally enjoying the moment - having truly earnt my painkillers.

Eventually we came home only a few hours later and begin our lives together as mother, father and daughter.

Grace’s umbilical cord.