My Birth Story

I always thought I would be ‘good’ at giving birth. I pictured myself like a Buddhist monk, going within and breathing through the pain. I somewhat delusionally was looking forward to it. I like challenges, particularly endurance exercise and I am pretty good with pain. I once held my arms over my head for an hour, focusing and meditating through the ‘discomfort’.

I’m also not naive to the reality of childbirth, a year earlier I witnessed my nephew's long, tiring arrival into the world. I just figured when it was my turn, I would do it differently :)

Plus I'd been prepping.

A couple of years ago I did a 10 day silent retreat, meditating for 11 hours a day, body aching but managing the pain with total focus, traveling so far into it that it became just sensation and space.

Surely these skills would transfer?

I was keen to avoid induction so I did all the things - ate dates, walked a lot, accupuncture, sex, yoga - Then I prepared a beautiful playlist and got my essentials oils ready.

I was going to take complete control of this situation.

When the contractions started they were uncomfortable but manageable. When I arrived at hospital 12 hours later in utter pain I was sent home.

‘I think you are fine' said the midwife as she ushered us out. Feeling sufficiently gaslit we left.

By the time I returned to I was throwing up and violently shaking. It was declared that I had a temperature – probably because I was wearing every item of clothing that I owned as my body had lost the sophistication to regulate it's own temperature. My pain was acceptable this time and I was upgraded to the higher floor.

Leon convinced me to get into the birthing pool, something I had, for reasons unknown, decided I was totally against. I have a beautiful memory of eating jelly babies between huffs of gas and air whilst listening to ‘About today’ by the National as as I sank into warm water.

At some point I realised there was no getting out of it, the pain was so intense that I couldn't even mentally check out.

Childbirth brought me to my knees. It was the most humbling experience of my life. I screamed from pain but in-between I cried, cried like a little girl, I cried for all the things I never let myself feel, all the tenderness left untouched for years, and I felt utterly weak and vulnerable at the mercy of the people looking after me and the baby descending through me.

‘Maybe I’ll just adopt?’ I thought as his head was crowning. By the final moments I had pretty much quit, I had no energy left within me, I couldn’t have cared less if they had handed me a monkey, as long as it stopped. And then he arrived, came tumbling out like someone was emptying a bag of rubbish from my womb. Eyes wide open, so so curious.

For days after I cried, the veil had been lifted and my inner weakness continued to seep out, no longer having the strength to protect this part of me.

I am used to being strong, being told how powerful I am when massaging, how impressive I am doing warrior 3 whilst 9 months pregnant but it turns out my strength is conditional and when faced with situations I can’t control I am none of these things.