I was startled awake at 11 p.m. by a fierce contraction, the kind that immediately told me this birth was going to be unlike the first. The sharp wave that followed, breaking my waters, was a swift assurance that it was all starting to happen.
I did everything I could to keep myself calm—listened to music, changed positions frequently, got in the shower, anything to get comfortable and help me focus on my breathing. During my first birth, I had laboured almost exclusively on a hospital bed, attached to monitoring equipment. It felt so freeing to be able to listen to my body and do what felt right without having to ask someone to help me off the bed or to wheel the equipment behind me. My husband, Willem, supported me through every contraction, applying firm pressure to my tailbone to ease the pain and offering steady words of encouragement.
After being in labour for about an hour, the contractions were only a couple of minutes apart and were picking up in intensity. We called my parents first, as we needed them to stay with our two-year-old daughter, and then we phoned the midwife. When I spoke to my midwife, she was so surprised by how calm I was that she wasn’t convinced I needed to come to the maternity unit just yet. However, I went through a contraction mid-phone call, and she agreed we should get moving. After some back and forth about whether to go to the hospital or the maternity unit, we decided on the maternity unit since it was closer. I didn’t fancy the idea of going through about 10 contractions while sitting in a moving vehicle—something I hadn’t experienced the first time around, having been induced.
Amidst all the commotion, our daughter had woken up. Thankfully, my parents arrived soon after, and we quickly packed the hospital bags into the car and got ready to go. As I sat down in the car, I felt an immense amount of pressure. It was actually the first time I had sat down since labour began. I just assumed I needed the toilet, so, leaving Willem in the car, I ran back inside. My mother looked a little concerned as I re-entered. Having had four children of her own, she knew exactly what that pressure meant. She followed me to the bathroom, and as I sat down, I let out a loud scream. She yelled, ‘Get off the toilet and lie down!’ As I did, I heard her shout, ‘Yup, she’s coming!’ She rushed outside to get Willem from the car, who still thought we were heading to the maternity unit. As he ran back in, he called the midwife and handed the phone to my mum. He knelt beside me and said he could see the head, urging me to keep going. One big push and her head was out. Another push and her body followed. The entire pushing stage lasted only about three minutes.
Willem placed Lena on my chest, and she immediately started crying. It was instant love (and relief). I couldn’t believe she was here, in my arms, while I lay on our bathroom floor—and it was Willem who had delivered her. It was such a surreal moment. Then I heard Willem tell the midwife that the birth time was 1:10 a.m. It had been just over two hours from the first contraction to holding Lena in my arms—a stark contrast to my first birth, which had involved eight hours of labour and a 30-minute pushing stage.
My midwife advised us to get to the maternity unit as quickly as possible and said she would call ahead to let them know we were on our way (and to tell them to stop filling the birth pool, as it was no longer needed). Willem and my mum helped me up off the floor, wrapped Lena in a towel, and got me dressed. I toddled through the lounge where my dad was playing games with our two-year-old. I climbed into the car, Lena in my arms, cord and placenta still attached, and we were finally on our way to the maternity unit. The midwives met us outside with a wheelchair, which, as it turns out, I needed—I was a bit shaky after the adrenaline wore off. Inside, we were both checked over and given the all-clear. Lena was a healthy, perfect baby, weighing 3.63 kg, and I had no tearing or complications delivering the placenta. We couldn’t believe it.
We spent the rest of the night at the maternity unit and were sent home later that day. It felt strange walking back into the bathroom, and it took a few days to fully process what had happened. Many of our family and friends thought we were joking when we told them about the birth, especially since we’d been laughing just a couple of days earlier about not making it to the hospital in time. But I can honestly say it was an incredibly special experience that empowered me as both a mother and a woman, and a beautiful reminder that you don’t need a birth to go exactly as planned to have an amazing experience.
Written submission for BUMP&baby Mama Musings by Lauren Marais. Photography by Renaye McLachlan.
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