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  • Writer's pictureTerri B-R

I asked every question,I prodded them,I drilled them & when I was sure,I then asked for it to happen

Sometimes a birth journey takes a turn down an unplanned path; sometimes medical interventions are a wonderful, life saving necessity. This was one of those times. This beautifully written account of Otto's birth so inspiring, and perfect proof that Hypnobirthing is for ALL births, Doula support is for ALL births, and there is no right or wrong way to birth your baby - informed, safe and happy with your decisions are key.

Enjoy this read...

I remember the look on the waiters face that night when we ordered two hot curries. I laughed it off and asked for mine to be extra hot. We left the restaurant, laid the table at home, ate our curries and I climbed the stairs to watch some TV in bed whilst Chris continued to lay the new wooden floor in the sitting room. As I undressed and slipped into my slacks, a wave arrived, rolling through my body from top to toe but mostly wrapping its self round my abdomen. I was at the sink, clutched onto the side and smiled with joy. Then another, by this time I was on all fours, Chris had brought up the silver mixing bowl in case I wanted to be sick. I remember looking at it and it reminding me of my catering days, slightly annoyed that I wasn’t presented with the wooden or china one. He was speaking to the midwife, then he was speaking to Terri our Doula.

My surges were powerful, they were mine and my baby’s, we were talking in waves, out in the ocean on our birth journey. He spoke and I folded. I surrendered. I moved for him, in every direction he needed and wanted. Fast or slow, turning up and down our bodies merged, finally into one. I heated up and cooled down, I urinated in my car and collapsed on cushions to support him.

At the birth centre Terri looked like an angel, waiting for me and my baby. Open armed she took us and gently lay us down on pillows and blankets in the waiting room, humming and stroking my hair. Chris lay with me, obeying to every need. Touch my foot, water, hair, back, hand, hold me, stop holding me. My hind waters broke [merconium], so in the car we drove to the hospital, a bumpy back road of eternity, whilst surges forced though me, howling but still breathing the way we knew would keep us strong and safe. I fell into a wheel chair as the midwives took us all into a small room. I stopped dilating but the surges kept coming. Eventually after many hours I had an epidural, Chris tells me it was the moment he broke down as it took them a while and a few goes to get it right. I was oblivious. Terri held him and they carried on supporting me. I wanted a cheese and mayo sandwich but we only had Soreen. I urinated everywhere, again.

My baby was pushing against my cervix. He was at the wrong angle. His heart rate dropped suddenly and I could feel a little panic in the room from the staff. New surgeons arrived, we spoke of a c section. I asked every question, I prodded them, I drilled them and when I was sure, I then asked for it to happen. Papers were signed. Our little trio set up in theatre. I was numb from toe to just below my breasts. Anaesthetist to my left, Chris and Terri to my right. I shared old stories of my womanhood during strange abdominal sensations. Then there he was, held up in the air, almost tribal, our baby boy. I saw tears in Chris’s eyes as he came and rested his head on my shoulder as our baby lay on my breast. We did it. I did it.

The birth was not my envisaged plan of water and candles but it was mine and my baby’s, the way we moved down our journey, every wave and every calm moment, taking rest and gathering strength together. Our love and spirit engulfed our heart beats and oh when we held each other for the the first time, raw and naked, in our vibrating aura, our voices close to our ears, we sang and whispered all our loving words together.

My birth came with a sudden agony on day three, just when my hormones hit the roof, my c section ruptured whilst in hospital. Surgery again. Separation for my baby. This was a moment that would mark many consequences for his need to catch up to me, to be closer and closer as he developed. We lay together for months, sleeping together, feeding together, talking and playing closely until his little head looked over my shoulder and he asked to move a little. I gave him his space and his arms and legs stretched out and movement dawned on him. Today is his 10-month birthday, it’s 15:40, in an hours time he was birthing.

I want to thank you Otto, my baby boy, for being so brave and spectacular, for never showing fear or doubt, for always telling me what you wanted.

I want to thank you Chris, you gave me everything. Every level of my existence lent on you and you showered me with your unconditional love, positivity and sensitivity.

I want to thank you Terri, for being our angel, you flew in and spread your peace and love and held us all in your protected, safe cocoon.

I want to thank you Midwives and theatre staff, for helping the birth of our boy, for your clarity, transparency, calm and kind demure. And all the tea, toast and understanding in the 10 the days we spent with you in hospital.

Terri reminded Otto, Chris and I that we are humans. That we can breathe. That meditation is powerful. That believing in one’s self is the one and only strength we will ever need. She is right.

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