What happens in a homebirth?

Homebirths account for one in fifty births in England and Wales, meaning over 12,000 little bundles of joy have been delivered in people’s living rooms over the past 12 months. But when I was gearing up for mine, I struggled to find home birth stories online apart from some very graphic Youtube videos. So what happens in a homebirth? Here’s my story…

Two days before my due date, I had a midwife appointment that I had really hoped I wouldn’t have to attend because my little girl would have treated me to a slightly early delivery. But I sat on the examination table, getting my tummy measured, talking excitedly about my planned water birth. Then I got those dreaded comments: “Your bump’s a bit small. I’m going to refer you to the hospital for a scan tomorrow. They might suggest induction.”

Words like that filled me with horror for my first pregnancy and what followed was an unnecessary induction and long, painful labour. So this time it just pissed me off.  

So I spent the rest of the day both panicking and ranting about my very early appointment the following morning. I even commented by early evening that I was starting to get stress twinges. And by 9pm, those twinges were getting stronger… 

You think I would have been over the moon. There was just one problem: at my midwife appointment earlier that afternoon, I’d been told there were no homebirth midwives available that evening. I’d have to go to the hospital. 

My partner reassured me. “You might be like this for ages,” he said. “It was 22 hours last time.” That was true. I knew I might be in for the long haul so made sure he went to bed to sleep while I sat with TENs machine strapped to me, ready for things to get tougher before waking him around midnight, when my bloody show appeared. We sat in the night, whispering to not wake our toddler and timing each contraction as they got closer and closer together. I’d feel a 30 second one, then a little blip, before another 30 second one. As it got to morning, I congratulated myself that a home birth was still on the cards and we rushed the dogs over to the dogsitter before my toddler woke up. 

But here’s the thing – the moment she did, my contractions stopped. Fourteen hours of labour and it all ground to a halt. 

Phew. Still reading? Or fed up because I haven’t got to the nitty gritty of giving birth yet? Because that’s how I felt that morning. All that build up for nothing. Tears ensued into much of the afternoon. 

Before supper, a midwife from the homebirth team visited and gave me the dreaded membrane sweep. This was a big deal as this procedure had caused many problems during my last labour but I was given a big green light this time. 

“Did your contractions stop when your toddler woke up?” my midwife asked when she was finished. “It’s the cavewoman extinct so you can look after your children – it told your body to slow down and wait. I bet it will start again when she goes to bed.”

Then she finished with, “I’ll eat my hat if you don’t give birth tonight.”

And sure enough she was right. About all of it. The moment my toddler was carried upstairs to bed, my contractions came on again and I did figures of eight on my birthing ball to bring the baby further down, while my partner called the midwife and filled the birthing pool. All the effort of the previous night had not been wasted – my body had got itself into the perfect position to get ready and I was warned to not get into the pool until the midwife arrived as this one was going to be quick. Instead, I focused on keeping up the good vibes and watched Brooklyn 99 while keeping up the figure of eights. 

There’s a changing point in a standard childbirth. When you first meet your midwife you’re pretty chilled and a bit of mild pain relief like a TENs machine allows you to keep a conversation going. You find out how they take each tea, talk about each other’s families, hear about what it’s like working for the NHS. Then there gets to a point when the pain becomes too much and all you can manage are wails and cries as you writhe naked from the waist down. For me this happened pretty quickly and I found myself moving from ball to pool, then eyeing up the gas and air canister within a couple of hours of her arriving.

I cannot recommend how important a birthing pool is. It was the biggest pain relief of the whole process, but also the most natural and free from side effects. I was concerned about the risk of infection, particularly as the water began to cool down but fortunately, things moved very quickly. First, I started feeling an overwhelming amount of pressure, then I pushed for the first time and my waters broke. The pain relief from this was amazing. I pushed for the second time and a head appeared. Finally, I pushed for the third time and my little girl was out. Out into the world.

Daddy got to hold her first; then me, while lapping water over her to keep her warm. As my newborn daughter was wrapped up in a towel, I cut the umbilical cord as one final goodbye to the HG I had for the whole pregnancy. 

Over the next hour, we weighed her, did the first feed and I had a shower, while our midwife helped with the clean up. As we waved her goodbye, it was almost like a family member departing as we’d been through so much together. But the best feeling was in the early hours of the morning where Mummy, Daddy, Toddler and Newborn were all peacefully wrapped up and tucked into bed asleep, safe, healthy and cared for.