JT’s pregnancy was straightforward and healthy – it was a bit of a journey for me, just in the basis that I’m used to connecting spiritually to my babies very early in pregnancy, yet little James and I never felt that connection while he was within me.
I spent the 9 months consciously acknowledging him, chatting with him, and connecting to him in every physical way I could – with the hopes that we might find some sort of spiritual connection – it never happened until tranisition 🙂
This pregnancy was another step for me to claim my power as a birthing woman. I had never gone into labour without some sort of assistance – my first son was induced – a hospital d-elivery – about as far from a birth as I could travel.
My second, home water birthed babe was gently encouraged with a stretch and sweep.
I knew I wasn’t broken, and was determined to prove it. Thursday evening, of the 19th of August, I had an overwhelming urge go go for a run. So, pregnant belly in hand, at about midnight, in all of my enormous glory I ran around our block. Then had a shower, and snuggled up in bed with my beautiful family.
I was awoken Friday morning at around about six with some familiar sensations – nice, strong, rushes. I turned over, trying to sleep, but was so excited that perhaps, just perhaps I HAD gone into labour all by myself.
Half an hour or so later, I snuck out of bed, hopped in the shower, and texted my three best friends to let them know today was the day, and to light their candles. I also called my gorgeous photographer friend Fee, so she could organise care for her little one.
The boys woke up, and life went on as usual in our house, with me plodding around in the loungeroom and leaning over my fitball when I needed it.
Then time for me stopped – I have no real idea of how long things took – Fee arrived, and bless her heart started playing with the boys and entertaining them. I had a shower, or two… insisted the pool got filled, and called my midwife.
Labour for the next however long was a little scary for me- it felt different to my previous labour, and I found I Couldn’t just settle into it. I knew if I went to the loo it would get bigger, but was so terrified of the sensations, I put it off for as long as I could.
Finally something twigged, I found my courage, went to the loo (yes it got bigger) and my waters broke, allowing James to finally move down.
Off the loo, into the loungeroom, the most powerful sensations I’ve ever felt. There was fear again, fear of the pain, then the realisation that holy cow, I needed to push. With the support of my gorgeous husband, and my beautiful midwife I clambered into the pool.
Time stood still, I gently birthed James‘ head- lent back, and his shoulders and body slid into his daddy’s waiting arms.
I did it… I went into labour alone.
I birthed my baby and caught him.
I spent a few days post birth being annoyed at myself for the fear I felt – but now in perspective, it’s all been part of my journey with James, and a new step in motherhood for me.
So this proud mama welcomes her delicious new son to the world (Yes he’s named after Kirk 😛 Yes, I could have chosen a better captain, but James stuck as we welcomed him earthside)