A birth is a birth, no matter the outcome – something which I stand by every single day. I’m a midwife so having a baby was a whole multitude of emotions for me – the worry and panic of everything that can happen but also the capacity to know about the incredible outcomes and the families we see created.
On Wednesday 1st November, I went into hospital to be induced. The induction took a while for anything to happen, mostly consisting of an examination every 4-6 hours and a pessary being inserted. In between we watched series / films that we’d downloaded onto our iPad and awaiting something to happen.
The beginnings of some tightening started that were tolerable and barely noticing to distract me from the films we were watching. I managed to get some sleep and the time passed by for a few hours until the next pessary was due. There was some change and I was 2cm this time but I not much more was happening.
Over the next couple of hours the intensity and regularity of the contractions increased and I couldn’t focus on a film anymore. Instead I mobilised walking around the room and sat on a birthing ball, trying to remember to eat and drink.
Our parents were waiting anxiously at home and I’d managed to sleep for a few more hours and nothing seemed to be happening so we decided to invite them to come in and see us to assure them that we were okay.
My partners parents arrived first, I had started with more contractions again at this point so they chatted to us whilst I breathed through the contractions and bounced on the ball.
Suddenly, I felt ‘strange’, I looked at my partners mum, stood up and walked to the bathroom, dropped my underwear and there was a bedpan full of liquor (my waters). The the contractions really started, they were much more intense. I was quickly moved to a delivery room from here.
My partner brought in the speaker that we’d brought and played a playlist we’d made for labour (although I don’t really recall this playing). I mobilised, stripped myself naked and intermittently walked around, leant over the bed, stood in the shower and sat on the toilet. Whatever felt right, that’s what I did. I used some entonox (gas and air) but seemed to take preference to using just the mouth piece to help control myself breathing through my contractions.
I sat on the toilet for a while, a comfortable place to be, sat upright and feeling supported. And I knew all of a sudden, she was coming!
I waddled to the bed and got onto it. I told my midwife, she’s coming. With a push or two I could feel her move down inside me and before I knew it, I knew she was there. She was in touching distance and I did exactly that. I felt her BUM as she made an entrance into the world. She was breech.
There seemed like the longest delay between bum, body, shoulders and head but it definitely wasn’t and here was when I noticed the music playing. The soundtrack to her entrance.
And there she was at 14:28, the smallest, most perfect baby delivered and born. Her dad cut her cord, she had her elephant cord tie put on instead of a clamp and she was placed on my skin on my chest.
This was the most empowering moment of my life.
The only thing to mention now, would be was that the music was all I could hear now. The room was otherwise silent because we knew Beawouldn’t be alive when she was born.
I saved this for the end, because I needed others to know that despite her not being born alive, I still felt empowered, I had an amazing active birth and was part of my birth. Bea’s birth will forever be remembered for the way it was and helped to commence her legacy from the start.
I’ve attached some photos below of Bea.
1. Wearing her cord tie
2. Skin to skin straight after delivery (me smiling)
Founder and Chairperson
Beyond Bea Charity