Every child and their mother should be able to experience the moment of birth in a welcoming place of trust and wellbeing, accompanied by the people they love and by everything that brings them pleasure. Women, as mammals, are made to give birth in calm, familiar surroundings, without strangers, noise or outside distractions. Giving birth is part of female sexuality and, as such, it calls for privacy, relaxation, trust and surrender. I also believe that every baby deserves to be born in respectful, gentle surroundings, to be cared for and at peace as they arrive in the world and in their first moments of life, and that this can shape their wellbeing in those first days and their transition into the outside world — a transition that I believe should be slow, gradual and handled with great care.
I think I already knew I wanted to have my first child at home before I even became pregnant. I never felt a hospital was the right place for such an intimate and important moment, since for me hospitals are places sick people go to, and a healthy pregnant woman with no prior complications is not a sick person at the moment of birth. How could I, during birth, surrender and relax in a hospital setting? I think I’d freeze up, I’d be afraid, I’d feel unsafe about who was caring for me and how, vulnerable… People often told me I was very brave for giving birth at home. And I’ve always thought the brave ones are those who go to hospitals without knowing what awaits them. Even while surrendering to any unexpected turns and complications that might arise in the moment, I prepared for the arrival of my children with joy at home, creating a welcoming nest, with the music I was listening to, the smells, the lights and, above all, the people. Knowing I had the chance to have a team of trusted professionals throughout the whole process turned it into the best possible life experience, however everything turned out. More than brave, I felt informed, grateful and connected to my instinct and common sense. I was completely sure and had no fear of the moment; on the contrary, I felt excited and, at a third home birth after two wonderful experiences, valuing even more the gift of welcoming my children in intimacy. I was also prepared for things to become complicated, though I didn’t consider it very likely, since the midwives at home had every resource for emergencies and, well, things can also become complicated in hospitals; that was no longer up to me. I’ve always been aware that when we surrender to life, we surrender to death. I wish and long for a long life for my children and I’m grateful for every day of their existence and their health. Thank you, thank you and thank you to Life for every day I share with them.
The last weeks of August had finally been a little slower and more pleasant, now that C was on holiday and I wasn’t alone with the logistics and looking after the two children over the summer. My body felt strong and surprisingly lighter, a sense of muscular relaxation all over me, no pain, even my digestion was lighter. Every day I found little moments to immerse myself in the water of the pond, the sea, the river or the pool. There we floated, I swayed my body, I did my own dance in the water with the baby and, if it was in the pool, I swam a little very slowly, imagining that I was inviting my baby to swim towards the wonderful extrauterine life I was living that summer and in that setting. Yes, at last the waiting was sweet, and I tried not to fret too much about hurrying, since everything was pleasant. I was entering week 41 and it was only the protocol that prompted me to think we’d have to speed things up somehow soon. It’s such a magical moment, not knowing when everything will begin…! The best thing is to carry on with normal life and trust that the moment will come on its own, when you’re not thinking about it, and probably that will be the best time.
That Friday afternoon, I., aged 8, went to play at his friend A.’s house. After lunch and before leaving, he said goodbye to us, telling the little belly: “baby, you can come out now!”, until he decided instead to grab his Harry Potter magic wand and cast a spell directly over the belly: “come out while I’m at A.’s house!”. To reinforce it, he then decided to use both hands, place them directly on the belly, close his eyes and say the same words, deeply focused. I laughed and said: let’s see, let’s see if it works! We spent the afternoon with our 3-year-old, decided to go for a walk in the woods near home for a while before dinner and to go and pick up I. Walking made me feel good, especially through the woods; I thought it would encourage the baby to move and get the process started. When we got home we spoke to A.’s mother: I. wanted to stay for dinner and to sleep over, and we’d pick him up the next morning. On the phone I said to him: if the baby is born during the night and you’re not here but your brother is, won’t you mind? And he clearly told me no, that he wanted to see the baby once it was born and that it was fine. So C started making homemade pizzas for the three of us; I was on the floor playing the African animals dominoes with N when, suddenly, that little internal tearing sound followed by a bit of warm water between my legs, oops! My waters had broken! My other two births had also started this way, with no warning. As it was 9:30pm, we thought about taking N to his grandparents’ in Banyoles, since the night was long and labour was likely to start. The grandparents were having dinner at a restaurant; N was delighted to be able to order croquettes and ice cream and to be the only grandchild that evening.
I was left alone at home and started to feel something in my lower belly. I went to the bedroom, undressed and put on the aromatherapy diffuser with lemon and mandarin, the lights dim and relaxing music playing. Suddenly, a first contraction, quite a strong one it has to be said, phew. In no time, another quite intense one too. It was 10pm. I let the midwives know and hurried C along; I wanted him with me already.
The wait felt long, kneeling on the little mat with my body leaning on our bed and accompanying each contraction with movements of my pelvis, as relaxed as possible but now with intense sounds that I let out as I pleased, those open aaaaaaaa, intense and long, that accompany each contraction. Between contractions I looked at the bed and wished it would end already and that I could have the baby in my arms; I even felt like crying, gosh, how the surges hurt as they came… if I’d known they would last so little, I’m sure I’d have enjoyed them more in that moment!
C arrived, saw me kneeling there and I told him it was very intense; inflate the pool and let’s fill it now, I said, and so he did, and while it filled we held hands and I moved through the contractions like waves of the sea, which is the visualisation that has always worked for me, since you know there’s a moment of calm between one and the next. The music in the background, me on my knees with my arms stretched out on the bed, at times a leg would rise, the pelvis moved with the contraction, everything very intuitive, as my body asked of me. At one point C told me the midwives had arrived, it was 11pm. In that moment I felt a great confidence and lightness, so that the contraction came with a sensation of the pushing stage beginning. Shortly after, I felt the warm hand of the midwife on my sacrum like a caress of trust, her warm smiles, her soft voice of safety and calm. I wanted them to listen to the baby’s heartbeat; it was heard and everything was fine. They asked if I wanted to get into the water now, I said yes. As I got in, I felt great pleasure, that warm water, the sense of floating that took me back to our summer swims. I don’t know if it was two or three contractions in the water, lying on my back floating, until I felt the head coming out, I touched it and felt its hair, it was coming! With the next contraction the whole head came out, with my legs open and the head out, in the water, with its little black hair; I was smiling and celebrating that this was it, one more contraction and we’d be there! I felt no pain, I was just waiting for the contraction when, suddenly, the baby began to move restlessly inside me; push, then! gosh, I can’t because the contraction isn’t coming, it’s moving a lot! Then the midwives invited me to turn over; as I did, my body came out of the water and it was no longer wise to submerge the baby again; I cried out waiting for the contraction that wasn’t quite coming, and then, asking respectful permission, the midwife helped the baby make the final rotation and free the shoulders so it could finish coming out. I felt the baby’s cry at once, which made me think it was a very good sign that it was breathing so well and so strongly. The midwife eased two loops of cord from around the baby’s neck, I turned carefully and submerged again and in a moment I had the baby on me in the warm water, with C hugging my shoulders from behind. It was 11:30pm. The midwives handed us a small towel to cover the baby; it cried a little more, I think it needed to take in some air after that arrival. Soon it calmed down and we looked at it with love, tenderness; I was quite sore it has to be said, but very serene and infinitely grateful, I kissed it, looked at it, it opened its eyes, we looked at each other and then I wanted to know who it was, since we didn’t know the sex and had a name for a boy and another for a girl. With my hand, I reached into the water to touch its genitals, looking for testicles, which I couldn’t find. Nervous, I told C to feel. He said to me: I think it’s a girl. Since we had two boys and I was very set on a third, I asked the midwives to check the sex; so we lifted the baby a little off me and yes, it was M, our daughter! I felt happy; the midwives and C helped me sit up and lie down on our bed, and there the naked skin-to-skin continued, lasting a good 48h almost non-stop. I still felt intense contractions at times, they bothered me a little since on one hand I was up on a little cloud with the baby and on the other I felt the contractions. She began to suckle at the breast and the colostrum, what a pleasure to breastfeed again! After a while the midwives suggested I deliver the placenta, which was probably already free; I could do it by sitting up or, if I didn’t want to get up, they could gently pull the umbilical cord to help it out. I preferred the second option, since that’s how we’d done it with the other two, and very carefully and slowly they invited it out, I pushed a little and wow, it came out and I felt great lightness and release; from that moment the intense contractions were gone. We looked at it, honoured it, I touched it… we kept it there beside us for a good while, since we hadn’t yet cut the cord. First we had a smoothie, the pizzas that had been brought to our bed, and we spent a while alone too with C, looking at her, stroking her, unhurried, enjoying being at home, in our nest. A while later C cut the cord, and then the midwives checked my vulva for any tears, but everything was perfect. I went to the bathroom to pee, which didn’t hurt at all, and a while later they left, once the pool was cleared away and everything in order, the thyme infusion from the meadow by our home ready to cleanse my perineum each time I went to the bathroom, supporting the healing naturally, the placenta print on the watercolour paper… more than 4h had passed out of time; the midwives would return the next day and would accompany us closely throughout the postpartum period to see how the baby was doing in those first days, how I was doing, breastfeeding, and everything we might need.
Shortly after, day began to break; the skin-to-skin and the kisses continued, the pleasure of love for life, the calm, our warmth without interruptions. Once again my baby could enter this world slowly, gradually and respectfully, in an external womb that would open little by little to show them the world.
Thank you Equip Mudra and all the midwives who make respected home births possible.
