Birth story of Madeleine
by Jo Davis
I was 40 weeks and five days pregnant and, if we weren’t quite ready to have a baby, we were at least ready to move on from being pregnant. The birthing kit was complete and stowed at my mum’s place – where we intended to have the baby as our rental situation was not suitable.
My aunt Diane came to take me for a walk over Scarborough to Taylor’s Mistake and back. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that I didn’t feel up to it. I was suddenly feeling very heavy, and my waters were leaking ever so slightly now and then. But as there was no good reason not to go (I wasn't ill and in fact was in ebullient good health) we went ahead at a very leisurely pace.
When we got back, Glenn was home and we all went out for Thai. Maybe the tamarind fish helped get things going. Later that night I made a half-hearted attempt at going to bed, but contractions were coming five to seven minutes apart. They didn’t seem too serious, but felt more like Briggs and Stratton contractions (as my mother calls them).
By midnight they were three minutes apart and lasting about a minute. I had given up on my leaning-over-pillows position in bed (supposedly sleeping) and was up, standing over the wall-heater in the kitchen and breathing through each contraction.
By 2am, Glenn was up with me, and we thought we’d head to my mum’s place to assemble the birth pool. Mum had agreed to be my other support person. On the phone, I was surprised to hear that she was excited. She had a real sense that the baby was coming, a feeling I didn’t have at all!
By 3.30 in the morning we were at my Mum and stepfather’s place in South Brighton. Mum had gone around frantically spraying and wiping the bathroom and all the surfaces in the house – not a great idea as it turned out as I couldn’t stand the smell of the cleaning stuff!
My stepfather, Gordon, was away for a few days. That was just as well as he had said he would be out of there the minute a labouring woman crossed the threshold, and I don’t know where we would have sent him at three in the morning.
Finally the pool was full and looking inviting. I didn’t want to get in too soon, aware that my mother and sister had had long tiring labours, so I rang my midwife hoping for some direction. She was at a birth and had been there all night.
Thankfully she told me to go ahead and get in the pool despite the fact I didn’t have a single contraction while on the phone (they just disappeared).
It was five in the morning by now. I said to Mum that I was no longer curious about what contractions actually felt like. They were pretty hard work to get through but still not what I would describe as painful exactly.
The pool was wonderful, and in between contractions, I relaxed so much I slept. Mum and Glenn took turns sitting with me in the candlelight and I felt better just to have someone there.
Soon the sun was up. Glenn asked me if we should call the midwife but I didn’t know. It seemed like it was too much thinking to ask of me at the time. Eventually I did call Juliet and although she had just got home, she offered to come straight away. It was good to know she was available but it felt OK to wait so she said she would sleep for a couple of hours and then come. I got out of the pool for a while to see if that would speed things up.
Mum rang my sister in Pokeno (south of Auckland) and I spoke to her between contractions. She offered to come down and be with me for the last part of labour. We thought it might be another 10 hours or so, so she would have time for the flight. Mum booked her and my two-year-old nephew on a flight that would arrive at 1.30pm.
When Juliet arrived at 10am, I had been having bizarre contractions, sometimes spaced out to seven minutes apart, sometimes coming every two minutes, still just the same intensity but some not lasting very long.
I was in and out of the pool, trying to let gravity and movement have some effect.
I lay down on the floor while Juliet checked the baby’s position and heart-rate. Just as she was finishing up, another contraction came – the only one throughout my labour that I had lying on my back. Now, that was painful and made me realise how awful it was that women used to be (and sometimes still are) “put to bed” to labour.
The contractions picked up as if cued by Juliet’s arrival. Glenn helped me back in the pool in a hurry. The pressure over my pelvis was incredible; it felt as if I was being pushed apart from within (which I guess I was, a little).
I could feel the baby moving down. Thankfully within half an hour (felt like five minutes) I wanted to push. It was a powerful feeling, pushing involuntarily and feeling the baby move. My support people were nearby and keeping very quiet after curt instructions. It hurt more when they talked.
I reached down to try to feel the head coming, but all I could feel was a bulging sack of membranes and waters. The hindwater leak I’d been having for days obviously didn’t mean my waters had broken. It felt like only a couple of minutes before the baby was born (although the midwifery notes say it was 20 minutes).
It was an incredible relief when the head was through and then Glenn passed the baby to me. She was born “in the caul’’ - with the membranes intact - and Juliet peeled them back before Glenn took over the catching. She was born just on 11am.
I had some time just holding her before looking to see what sex she was and it was a great feeling to realise that it didn’t matter.
The next couple of hours were spent holding, feeding, checking and weighing her and watching her doze off. I don’t have any memory of the placenta being born. I do remember having a shower and feeling my spongy empty tummy, and afterwards getting checked and being pleased not to need any stitches.
I tried to go to bed, but with hormones racing and a perfect little baby to look at, there was no chance of sleep. Madeleine was held by her dad and grandmother. Mum picked up my sister and nephew from the airport and they joined in the celebrations. Gordon arrived back from the West Coast.
The afterwards must be one of the best bits of a home birth. We snuggled up in a cosy bed in familiar surroundings with no place we had to go and no strangers around. My good friend, Robbie, visited, as well as the aunt I’d been walking with the night before. It was a lovely, gentle and normal way for Madeleine to come into the world and a perfect way for us to welcome her.
Published in Birthplace Magazine
Last updated 19 March 2009.