Claire's Birth Story
Written by Claire
Photography by Sarah Del Borrello (Mother Mother Doula)
Our baby girl Isabella was born at home in August 2024. I had a 60 hour labour. For context, most labours go for 18-24 hours. We joke that I basically had two labours. It kinda felt like planning to run an ultra-marathon and accidentally running it twice. I’m pretty sure my partner and I killed a bunch of brain cells staying awake that long. I’ll never know for sure why it took so long but at least it makes for an interesting story.
Unlike most birth stories, it all started on my due date. I was planning for a home birth and I’d just been to the 40 week appointment with our midwife. I was pretty keen to avoid the dreaded 41 week obstetrician appointment at the hospital. Let’s just say it didn’t sound fun and my personal preference was to protect my chances of having a physiological birth with minimal interventions if possible. Hoping to induce labour naturally, I chowed down some date balls and swiftly booked myself in for some acupuncture. I was in luck. Contractions started 12 hours later.
Early labour lasted 15 hours but the contractions were a bit like mild period cramps. I baked a cake for our daughter’s impending birthday and played board games with my partner. The midwife had suggested I try to ignore the sensations and not get too excited just yet. I’d heard of prodromal labour and knew these contractions could come and go for days or even weeks.
I was nervous, but not about the pain. I was nervous about the total time that I would be in pain for. The endurance of it all and the impending fatigue scared me the most.
Our wonderful doula came over and gave me a “pep talk” and the contractions started ramping up. The surges were intense but manageable. We all thought that the baby was probably going to arrive by the early hours of the morning. I continued to labour in the bedroom and the shower all night. My partner and I did everything we’d prepared for. I used the tens machine, a birth comb, the birth ball, and tried lots of different forward leaning positions. My partner & our doula did counter pressure, massage, cheered me on, brought me snacks and kept me hydrated. We were killing it!
We called the midwife to come over because contractions were getting close enough together. It was 2am by this stage. The midwife checked my vitals and said that baby was doing great. I was offered a VE (vaginal exam) to see how dilated my cervix was but I politely declined. I didn’t want to interrupt the birth hormones or get discouraged. By all accounts, things had been progressing perfectly.
Not long after the midwife arrived, in an unfortunate turn of events, my contractions slowed down. We had feared this could happen. It appeared we had called the midwife too soon and technically the she couldn’t now leave because I was still in active labour. The last thing we wanted was for the midwives to “max out” their time with us and risk me ending up with a hospital birth. It was a conundrum that only I could solve. So I stood up, took a deep breath and said “oh I think the contractions have stopped”. Maybe it was fight or flight mode or mind over matter, but I panicked and somehow forced the contractions to stop… for a brief time. Everyone left to give me some space.
From then onwards the night and day began to blend together into one big hazy time warp in my mind. I’d been in labour for 33 hours. The contractions were jarring and erratic. This stage of labour was nothing like how I thought it would be. Where were the hits of blissful oxytocin and the steady progression from one stage to the next? Why did I feel like I was hitting a wall? I was insanely tired and nothing was progressing. But then it hit me. I knew exactly what was happening. I’d listened to enough birth podcasts. I was facing down the barrel of “failure to progress”. That was what the hospital diagnosis would be. The realisation hit me hard. I started to cry and then a sort of hysterical sadness took over. My partner came in to check on me and I started to talk about wanting a C-section, or at the very least, some pain meds so that I could get some sleep. I was having a total crisis of confidence and begun mentally preparing myself for a hospital transfer.
I remember standing in the shower and imagining what would happen if I went to hospital. I would get some pain meds and hopefully be able to rest. However, there would be bright lights, strangers coming and going, a sterile room, needles, routine vaginal examinations, continuous interruptions, an onslaught of hospital policies, potential pressure for intervention, and additional uncertainty. I’d be a ticking time bomb.
I decided to stay home. I liked my privacy and it sounds silly but I didn’t want all the decorations to go to waste. Besides, there was technically nothing medically wrong me. I was just having a baby and she was just taking her sweet time.
The next day, the midwife came back to our home, checked on bub, and did a VE at my request. It was day two and I was only 3cm dilated. At this point I was well and truly sleep deprived and painfully aware of the long road ahead. I took a Phenergan (drowsy antihistamine) and a Panadol, sat in the bath for 3 hours, and managed to rest in-between contractions.
After the bath, it was time to try some different positions. The midwife had suspected that bub’s head might deflexed and not hitting the cervix effectively. I began a series of recommended birth positions know as the “Miles Circuit” but gave up on the side lying positions because they were too painful. Lying down during a contraction literally felt like being stabbed repeatedly with a knife. I switched to squats and inversions, which gave some reprieve. The first inversion didn’t feel like anything but after the third one I felt something shift. With my knees on the couch and my arms on the floor I felt gravity take over. The weight of my babies head lifted up and gently dropped back down as I came out of the inversion. A few short hours later my water broke (hallelujah). Everything was moving so fast now and I’d finally entered the blissful state of mind known as “labour land”. Something had clicked into place like pieces of a puzzle and I could feel the baby dropping lower and lower.
A simple inversion was the magic trick that jumpstarted labour for me.
It wasn’t long before I started to feel the urge to push, and it was definitely time to call the midwife. The midwife arrived and I climbed into the birth pool. It was total bliss compared to the hard shower floor where I’d just spent the past few hours kneeling and lunging. I spent around 2 hours in the pool but it felt like 20 minutes. I was impatient and really wanted to get the baby out so I could finally rest. The midwife suggested a change of environment might help with the pushing. I took one step out of the pool and dropped to the floor with a massive contraction. Izzy was born a few moments later in the corner of our living room next to the birth pool. Her head came out quickly and we all watched it slowly rotate allowing for her body to follow. Maybe it was the many hours spent in water but I had minimal tearing and I didn’t feel any pain during the crowning, only a slight stretching sensation.
I stared in amazement at Izzy and then at my partner. She was finally here! It was love at first sight.
Looking back now I can truly see how birth is not linear. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done but also the most rewarding and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
If I could offer any advice, it would be:
- Choose a birthing environment where you will feel the most safe and comfortable
- Play around with positions during labour if you can
- Task your support person with keeping you fed and hydrated at all times during labour
- Be informed (about birth, hospital policies, your rights)
- Invest in continuity of care and a doula if possible
- Trust your gut
