As with our first, much planning and thought went into our second pregnancy. My partner, Rod, and I prepared with 4 months of preconception care and on our second try we conceived. 39 weeks later our little boy, Saul Richard Carleton McGuinness, was born at home into his daddy’s hands. He takes his middle name from his grandfather who died suddenly around the time we were trying to conceive.



My first labour
Our decision to have a home water birth was influenced by the birth of our first child, Lily, 4 years earlier. Independent midwives supported us though this pregnancy and we had planned to birth at the birth centre. However during prelabour I passed some meconium which made us ineligible to use the birth centre, as they require meconium bubs to be suctioned at birth and the birth centre does not do suction. As Lily was posterior, I had been planning to use the large birth centre bath as a way to get off my hands and knees (a position I’d been in for 2 days). Without this relief I succumbed to an epidural. Lily was born on a Saturday at 1:30pm, after 2 days and nights of prelabour (spent leaning over the couch) and 18 hours of active labour (half of which was with the epidural).

My hospital experience was not overly negative; it was the accumulation of little things that took the process out of my control. Hospital policies meant we couldn’t access the birth centre’s birth pool which I believe contributed to my need for an epidural; the epidural meant that I was coached to push once I reached 10cm dilation and the doctor used the standard intimidating line ‘we need to get things moving’; as the baby was crowning, an over-zealous head nurse went to wipe me down with some liquid (only to be stopped by our wonderful independent midwife, Myra, who was still by my side); this nurse also shone an incredibly bright light on my vagina (as if the room was not lit enough already!) which Myra turned off (when the nurse returned to the room she turned it on again and Myra turned it off again!). 

Myra negotiated with staff to have the baby stay on the bed with me for suctioning. The doctor obliged, only to have the aforementioned nurse whisk the baby away for drying and wrapping. I recall lying on this bed, having just pushed out my baby, feeling totally empty and bereft. I was calling out “I want my baby, give me my baby”. Myra went over to the nurse, took the baby and gave her to me. We left hospital 6 hours after birth, having talked the staff down from the requisite 12 hour stay for the observation of meconium babies, and Myra tucked the three of us up in our own bed that evening before she went home.



Why a homebirth?
Thinking about this experience later, it was easy to decide on a homebirth—our own independent midwife could provide suction at home (if necessary) and we can have our own birth pool. I won’t be bound by hospital rules and regulations. It’s funny—before birthing my first child, homebirth seemed radical, but as I learnt more it became the obvious choice. It didn’t feel radical, it felt sensible. When people heard we were having a homebirth many would say, “What if something goes wrong” and I’d reply, “What do you think we’d do? We’d call an ambulance!” People think that choosing to birth at home means you’re opposed to all medical intervention and/or that you don’t want what is best for your child. Of course the opposite is the case. I support medical intervention when it is warranted, not for the management of normal pregnancy and labour. I want what is best for my child, as evidenced by the time I took to find the best caregiver; to learn as much as possible about both normal and abnormal pregnancy and labour; and to learn about the practice hypnobirthing. My midwife told me that this is typical of women who employ independent midwives—they are proactive about their care and do not hand decisions over to others. It’s our body and our baby and we have to live with the outcome—not our caregiver.

My second labour
Our son, like his sister, was also born at 1.30pm on a weekend. This time a Sunday—a very civilized time for a birth, especially if you want siblings involved. Saul was caught by his daddy at home in our birth pool, with big sister Lily (4 years old) proudly looking on. Lily’s special job was to announce the gender, so when I had the baby on my chest I lifted his leg so she could take a peek—she was very pleased, having wanted a brother.



The birth went beautifully. Pre-labour began at 3am with hourly visits to the toilet while active labour started at about 9am. I got into the pool at this stage, with no fears of the warm water slowing things down, and I didn’t get out again until the placenta was born!

From 7am-9am poor Rod was kept VERY busy doing the final inflate of the pool, filling the pool, making Lily breakfast & keeping her involved, cancelling the day’s activities (with a white lie to his sister as we didn’t want his family to know we were labouring, as they were opposed to homebirth), calling the midwife (Akal), doula (Kylie) and my mum, heating wheat packs for me etc. etc.

I spent this time in the bedroom, leaning over the edge of our bed with a wheat pack under my tummy and another on my sacrum. Listening to the activities of the house beyond, I heard Lily on the phone to my mum confidently saying, “Mum’s birthing the baby. You should come over at 10:30” and then hanging up. Between contractions I cried out “Call her back. Get her here now!” (it was only 8:30am) as I wanted Lily taken care of so Rod would have one less thing to do.

My midwife arrived at around 9:30am, saw I was doing fine and left me to it. My doula arrived shortly after, looking fresh like the sun, having been called away from a family outing at Bondi. Mum and Lily played in the spare room, with Lily coming out periodically to ‘check on me’. I thought she would want to go out into the garden or to the playground but she wanted to stay close. She was quiet and reverent, as I had expected her to be.



In the birth pool, I tried different positions but found leaning over the edge to be most comfortable. Having read the stories in Ina May Gaskin’s Spiritual Midwifery, I wanted to try keeping my eyes open, focusing on Rod’s eyes through contractions, however I found myself yelling at him if he dared turn his eyes away from my intense stare. I then tried this with Kylie, who made sounds with me, encouraging me to keep low and deep. I was feeling very outward and external and not at all comfortable. I was having trouble relaxing and switching off my mind, as I’d practiced in the Calmbirth (hypnobirthing) course we’d done. Kylie, who was our Calmbirth trainer, had been following my lead, but she decided to help me focus inwardly as I was scattered and clearly having trouble getting out of my head (I kept asking questions between contractions!). I had been thinking about things like “how far dilated am I?” (though I didn’t want to check) and “am I doing it right?”—very unhelpful thoughts.

Kylie got me to close my eyes and think of the ‘special place’ I’d created over the months of my pregnancy. This really helped me get out of my head—which is a pretty hard thing for me to do at the best of times—and let my body get on with the business of birthing. From this point on, things changed, I think partly because I was focusing inward and because I had already opened up a lot. I became quiet, calm and still. The beginning of each contraction, or surge in hypnobirthing talk, was the hardest but once it was underway I was able to ride it, just reminding myself to breathe. I had a song called ‘Breathe’ playing on repeat in the background for hours. The CD came with the DVD Siblings at Birth: Childbirth through children’s eyes by Jo Hunter. I was surprised that I wanted to play this music, but it felt right at the time as the lyrics were a wonderful mantra. They reminded me that I was doing something normal, natural and entirely possible. The chant of 'breathe' in the chorus helped me to remind myself "all I have to do is breathe, my body does the rest". Also I loved knowing it was made by another woman who had done what I was doing. I’m sure everyone else was well and truly over the song by the end, as I’d forgotten it was on until someone politely asked if they could turn the music off now.

Throughout the labour, Rod and Kylie sat on either side of me holding a nappy across my lower tummy like a hammock. This nappy became like a security blanket—I’d call out one-word instructions (usually “hotter!”) and snap if it moved from an exact position. Later Rod told me how good it was to have Kylie sharing this work with him, as they were able to provide each other with support, making faces across my back, as they sat in this position for hours!

The second stage was just amazing and so much more bearable than the feeling of opening up. I wouldn’t describe it as painful but rather very intense. I never had contractions back to back—there was always a pause. During a break I recall saying out loud, “I feel fantastic” which is apparently the only thing I said for some time. Rod said my sound during contractions was a soft groan. While I felt calm, I thought I was louder as it felt like I could hear the sound of my body moving the baby down along with my own voice repeating “just breathe, my body does the rest”. What an amazing thing to feel your baby moving down through your body and your body making it happen, not your mind. I didn’t push, my body did and I was just a spectator, keeping out of its way.

At one point it occurred to me to reach inside to feel my baby’s head coming down the birth canal. He had about 4cm to go and I thought to myself—“the first internal examination for this entire pregnancy and labour is being done by myself when the baby is almost born—that’s the way it should be”. Our midwife, Akal, was very hands off—she only touched the baby when she helped Rod place him on my back after birth (I birthed on my knees/head over the birth pool) and to weigh and measure him some hours later. Otherwise all other touch was by mum, dad or big sister, until the grandmas had a hold six days later. What a nice contrast to care by obstetricians who do internals on your first visit (what is the rationale for that?!) and hospitals/birth centres, who do frequent checks for dilation. Not what is needed if you’re trying to let your body get on with the business of birthing and to get out of your head!

As there were pauses between contractions, I birthed the head and then had to wait quite some time before the next push. I was happily resting with my baby’s head out for what may have been 5 minutes, when the Akal suggested we get the baby out (her only intervention), so I pushed with my mind which brought on the next contraction and the birth of his body into daddy’s hands (I found this out later as I’d assumed Akal had caught him and had said to Rod “what a pity it wasn’t you”. I was delighted when he said “But it was!” as he’d smoothly given his side of the nappy to Kylie who continued to hammock my tummy without me noticing the change).



Saul was born at 1:30 in the afternoon after 4.5 hours of active labour and 6 prelabour. Despite Saul being a big baby at 3.94kg / 8lb 11oz (53cm) I didn’t even graze, which shows that if your body is given time, it can birth the baby it grew. Afterwards, my mum mentioned to Akal that that was a textbook birth and Akal said that unfortunately the textbooks don’t show births like that.

The birth was such a personal, intimate experience. I was enclosed in my pond in my darkened lounge room surrounded by a few select people. Such a contrast to my hospital birth which was devoid of privacy and sensuality. Despite it feeling so right I was still amazed that I was actually birthing my baby at home. It’s hard to believe, but when it was clear that birth was imminent I felt a twinge of disappointment that it was almost over—an experience that I had thought about and waited for so long and would not experience again.

Thanks to my wonderful support team and especially to Rod who never questioned for a moment my ability to birth at home.