The birth of Luka Astill

A few days before the birth

At this time one year ago, in the full throws of labor, I was being bundled up by my midwife and my partner and loaded into the back of the Tarago. After about six hours of 'inconsistent' labour ( some big contractions, some small), some time in the inflatable birth pool set up in our tiny living room and lots of heavy breathing, I was still close enough to giving birth for my midwife to recommend we make the move to hospital. In truth, Jan and I would both have liked to have stayed exactly where we were to labour but having had a c-section with my first baby I was categorised as 'high risk' and a hospital birth was recommended.

Contracting in the back of the car didn't really appeal to me so not surprisingly I arrived at the hospital appearing to not be in labour at all. We were ushered into a large and comfortable birthing suite. It felt cold and unwelcoming to me though as the sun rose, especially after leaving the warm and softly lit cocoon of my living room. I insisted the blinds be drawn to try and hold onto that cocooned feeling. Jan sent Julian and I into the bathroom for some passionate kissing to try and kick start labour. It worked perfectly. A little while later my waters were broken to overcome my inconsistent contractions (caused because the baby's head was slightly turned and as such not putting enough pressure on the cervix) and then it was all happening. I was on the verge of birthing my own baby with the power of our combined bodies.

There are so many aspects to this story that were so acute and troubling to me at the time. A year later with my beautiful son keeping me up nights and filling every minute of my day I struggle to recollect them.

I was determined to have a natural, drug-free, vaginal birth with my second baby. Finn's birth was a dramatic true emergency c-section. The cord prolapsed when they broke my waters to induce labour and I was ushered onto my knees to keep the pressure of the cord, and the oxygen flowing to my baby, as the siren rang throughout the hospital and the voice on the loudspeaker declared 'code green'. A minute later around twenty medical staff swarmed around me as I was wheeled on a gurney to the operating suites, still on my knees, naked from the waist down with a doctor trying to push the baby back in! Finn was born 7 minutes after my waters broke. I was under general anesthetic. I awoke two hours later asking if my baby had made it.

I really wanted things to be different this time. Jan Ireland was the lynch pin around which my hopes of a natural birth hung. As I entered transition within moments of my waters being broken Jan was the single point of light in the fog that I had entered. There were hospital midwives, my beloved, my mother all there but not one of them did I hear. Jan's voice and her clear and precise instructions guided me through the fog from which I thought I would never emerge.

You see, when you tell a maternity hospital that you are planning a VBAC (vaginal birth after caesaeran) they politely smile and say that they'll let you 'trial' labour. What they mean is that they will place such ridiculous restrictions on you that the chance is you'll fail to meet them (no more than 20 minutes of pushing for example), and then they'll intervene.

Jan, knowing all this, understood that we were not there to dilly dally. We had a baby to birth and we needed to do it as efficiently as possible. As intense contractions hit one on top of the other, Jan was expressing milk from me to increase their intensity! She knew what was required and more importantly what I was capable of.

I spent my transition time in the shower with two jets of hot water on my back. Everyone supporting me was soaked but I was oblivious. I used the powerful toning technique my yoga teacher Jesse Neave had shown me and I 'OM'ed' my way through the contractions. I was very, very loud and I did not notice nor care. The waves of sound carried me through and brought me to the point at which the baby was ready to be born. Jan and my beloved maneuvered me to the bed and ultimately onto my back (a position I never thought I would give birth in).

My confidence dissolved as I started to push. I was certain I wouldn't make it if I pushed this baby out. I cried out, 'I can't do this'. Suddenly I heard my beloved at my side. He hadn't spoken in over an hour after I had yelled at him for shooshing me mid-contraction (of course he had only been trying to sooth me rather than shut me up but in my particular condition I hadn't been very pleased). He gently said, 'You are doing it'. His words picked me up out of my despair and I yelled out, 'I am doing it!'

Twenty minutes later our baby was born, perfect of course. He was placed straight onto me. I was awake ( a pretty big deal after last time) and he was awake and alert, both of us free of drugs. Jan quietly collected her things and slipped out of the room as my mother took over my care and my beloved gazed at his new baby son.

We were, by some little miracle, moved into the family birth centre for our first night together, double bed, warm and cozy private room, the place I had wanted to be able to have my baby but had been excluded from because of my 'high risk'.

I spent just one night in hospital, so very keen to have my family altogether, so very proud of my body and my baby for being born in the 'natural way'. For years I had carried the scar and the fear that I was unable to labour, somehow faulty in design. It was truly liberating to know I could climb that mountain, that I could give my baby the best possible beginning.

We named him Luka Astill Adams Simmons. Luka because I heard it as though someone had spoken it out loud when they placed him upon me. Astill for my beloved's grandmother. Adams for me. Simmons for his dad.

First touch

Weighing and measuring several hours after birth

Day two - tired daddy and baby

Returning home

My boys

Tired, happy mama