And what could be more beautiful, than bringing new life into the world?

I really want to share the story of Grace's birth last November, because it was so magical. But I feel like in order to share that story, I need to talk about the birth of my eldest daughter first. It wasn't at all traumatic or long, in fact most people would see it as pretty textbook for a first birth, but it left me longing. Longing for that feeling of empowerment, like I really kicked some ass out there.

Rewind to early 2014. I was 28 weeks pregnant and had just booked in to do a hypnobirthing class. My partner had done the course when he had his first son and he was always going on about how good it was, so I heeded his advice to explore the hypnobirthing way. It sounds fluffy, meditative, a little bit crunchy. Maybe it is, but it's also - above all - just plain common sense. Women have been giving birth for thousands of years, right? And up until recently, they didn't use hospitals or medical equipment. They just popped that baby out, strapped it on their backs, and carried on with their work. Yes, labour is hard work, that's apparent in the name itself, but beyond anything else, it's purposeful, and probably the most natural thing us as women can do. We're made for it. That pain you feel isn't because something is wrong with your body, it's because your muscles are doing extraordinary things to completely transfigure themselves and birth something that, for 40-odd weeks, your body has been working every day to create and nurture. That's pretty amazing! Hypnobirthing is of the notion that positive thinking is half the battle. You need to believe in yourself and your ability to do what your body is made to do. It also explores breathing and relaxation techniques that help you to relax and let your body and the baby do the work.

[I just need to stop here quickly and note that I know things can go wrong. Emergencies happen, bodies and babies sometimes do weird things, and this can't be helped. The main thing is that all these babies arrive here safely - and their mamas are safe and well too]

A lovely friend of mine has three teenage girls, all but the first born at home. When she talked about their births, I could see the smile on her face and what it meant to her to have had those precious babes at home. I started to explore the option of having my first baby at home. Most people told me I was crazy. They either told me I'd need drugs for the pain, or that I'd be too small to birth naturally and have to have a c-section anyway. And what if something went wrong? My partner wasn't very keen on the idea either.

Cue the most amazing midwife. How she came into my world is through sheer luck, but I switched to her care at 20 weeks and she supported the option to birth at home (if you are in Auckland on the North Shore & looking for a midwife, Matty Van Oosterom is totally your gal!). We decided on a home birth, with a pool, and agreed we'd call it on the day, depending how I was feeling, on whether we'd go to hospital or Birthcare instead.

I had a very healthy and normal pregnancy but 36 weeks, my daughter was still sitting breach. I was worried this would override all my calm birthing prep and home birth plans and I'd be forced to evacuate baby via sun-roof. I was desperate for her to turn. I did headstands off my bed, down the stairs, you name it, I tried it. I stuck a picture of a baby in correct position to my bathroom mirror and every day I looked at it and urged my baby to flip around the right way. At 37 weeks, she did just that. She's always done things in her own time.

My due date came and went (again, on her time - common theme in my life). I knew baby would come when she was ready, but I was also aware that every day overdue, the chances of me being able to birth at home got slimmer. My midwife was happy to wait, so I sat tight. Three days later, I went into labour. I spent the day at the beach and then my best friend came over and we went for a walk as the sun was setting. I feel like I should mention here that I had both my best friends at my birth. One of them did the hypnobirthing classes with me, so she was all geared up to be my birthing buddy (alongside my partner), and the other arrived in the middle of the night - just in time to put cool flannels on my forehead and rub my back (BLESS her). I recommend everyone having another female there at your birth. They were both so amazingly helpful through the process and I don't think I'll ever be able to thank them enough for that. My partner was great too, but I don't think men quite get it like another woman gets it.

At 10pm, the contractions were getting stronger and I called my midwife to come and check. It was a Saturday night and I felt bad calling her then, but I guess she gets that all the time. She came over and examined me and told me I was 3cm and to go back to bed. She said when I'd need her next, I wouldn't be able to call her or tell her myself. I tried sleeping but it was next to impossible, and I found myself tensing up and holding my breath every time a contraction started - the exact opposite of what I'd learned at hypno classes and I felt annoyed that all this theory I'd learned, I wasn't disciplined enough to put into action. I fought through those contractions, and my labour went on into the night. My friend sat there the whole night, rubbing my back. Through every contraction  (Jo - if you're reading this, you're a bloody legend and I'm forever grateful to you for that night!), she was there telling me I could do it, reminding me to relax. 5am rolled around and Jo finally said, "I think we should call the midwife now". She called her and my partner started filling the pool up. The midwife arrived and she confirmed I was 9cm, and that I could get into the pool. While the water did give me some relief, in hindsight I think it made it harder. I couldn't get comfy and actually I don't much like being wet so it wasn't the best experience.

I started to really feel like I wasn't maintaining control of the contractions and it was frustrating me. I now know this was likely the transition phase, but I do remember saying I wanted to stop, that I couldn't do it anymore, and all those things that go through your head at tipping point. What I wasn't prepared for was that urge to push. The only way I can explain it is it's like the uncontrollable reflex feeling you get when you need to vomit, except you vomit downwards. It was the most bizarre feeling. My waters still hadn't broken by this point, so there was a lot of pressure from the amniotic fluid still being around the baby. When her head finally popped out, my midwife told me to reach down and pull her out. I actually caught my own baby! She was still inside her caul (amniotic sac still completely intact), so she was tucked up in a ball and it looked like she didn't really know she had been born yet. My midwife popped the sac with something that looked like a crochet hook, and they started rubbing her with the towel to get her to breathe. She was slow to take her first breath, and still purple, and I heard my midwife say she was going to have to cut the cord. I remember thinking something was wrong here, because we had discussed and agreed upon delayed cord clamping (where you wait until it is finished pulsing and all the blood is out of it before cutting it. It means baby gets all those added iron stores & red blood cells that they'd otherwise miss out on). Then at the last minute, she realized the cord was wrapped around baby's neck. She flipped it out over her head and at 7:30 in the morning, our sweet baby girl took her first breath! My step son then came in the room and was able to see her straight away. He was six at the time so while I didn't feel comfortable having him in the room, it was nice to have him there straight after - he even ran to the kitchen and grabbed a box cutter, determined to cut the cord!

I was not in great shape afterwards. The midwife spent an hour trying to stitch everything back up again (my toes still curl when I think about it). I found it hard getting out of the pool and my midwife wouldn't leave until I had gone to the toilet. I lost a bit of blood, and when I got up to go to the toilet, I felt faint and almost passed out. Stitches in your undercarriage coupled with problems getting baby to latch, and the first weeks of newborn life start to look pretty brutal. So brutal in fact. I was in pain, she wouldn't feed, she was screaming all the time, losing weight, sleep deprivation was owning me. I remember thinking, "i'm not cut out for this", and "how does anyone ever have more than one?". But we fought through it, and we made it. I still grieve a little bit for that newborn baby that I never got to enjoy, but we're making up for lost time now.

If you're considering Hypnobirthing or home birth, here are some things that I found the most helpful, as well as some links to the course I did & books I read:

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