The birth story of Revie
There’s always context to our birth story. Our birth story begins at conception so I feel it’s important to articulate how our story began. My hubby wanted two kids, I wanted four. Four for me was a full dinner table. There’s was completeness and fullness in that vision. Our kids, their partners, their children, the glorious chaos of family dinner times. It was an image etched into my soul.
However, we negotiated our way to three kids. My 3rd pregnancy, birth and postpartum was hard, clouded by cancer treatment which I’m thankfully on the other side of. I grieved elements of my postpartum journey that were taken away because of it. I was never going to have the done feeling with 3, but loved my son-shine so deeply and differently that I was ok with no more children. I couldn’t muster the words “go get your vasectomy” but we were planning on calling it an official day on our baby season the next month.
My previously clockwork cycles had a few random off months. Longer than usual. However come day 35, working a shift as a midwife and handling a medication we usually avoid when pregnant, it clicked. “I shouldn’t be touching this” I thought as my stomach dropped. I couldn’t shake this sense that there was a whole universe blooming inside me. I grabbed a pregnancy test on the way home and planned to check the next morning. Suddenly the bath bombs my daughters had been gifted smelt atrocious. My body knew before my mind could conceive what was happening. I walked away from the active test, fearing my reality. I’d always watched and searched for a second line, but not this time. As the timer went off I came back. The brightest positive line I’d ever have. I swore. I swore hard and I cried. I think I’ll always carry that guilt, but I needed to feel everything in that moment, and so I did. I sat with that news for days, fearful of feeling my husband, my family, of it being a reality. I feared others reactions to a surprise baby, to my hubby who stretched to three babies, to me not ‘ready’, whatever that even means. I’ll forever be thankful for my husbands first words. So optimistically, he said “well you always wanted four!”. And I did. Thus began the greatest journey of yielding to the unknown and gratefulness for the baby who saw their empty place at the dinner table, gathered themselves and hastily came knocking down our front door. They were always welcome, always invited, but never expected.
Pregnancy was a gift. Vomiting until 24 weeks and braxton hicks from 19 weeks were reminders I never wanted to do this again but that I was so lucky to be able to do it again. I said many times, baby won’t come until July, with the first being my guess date. Further to that, I even said I would be completely ok with the idea of this being my longest pregnancy yet because it’ll be the last time. Words are powerful, as is our mind in this season of motherhood.
My due date rolled around and we had a household that was hit with sickness. My middle and youngest child had gone down and the following day I would too. I willed this baby to stay in until we were better. We also had things to do- parent teacher interviews, my eldest daughter’s birthday, a party to attend. I was having random painful braxton hicks in the evening but nothing ever eventuated. Every night I wondered if it was happening, but I’d wake hours later to go to the toilet and knew it wasn’t meant to be. My eldest daughter’s birthday fell when I was 40+4 and she desperately didn’t want the baby to come on her birthday. So, when I woke at 3am and was having hourly contractions, I knew this was going to be a hard slog. We celebrated her birthday that afternoon, and did so continuing to pause and breathe through contractions. My husband was beginning to feel unwell and the following day my middle child had a special birthday party to attend. I woke and lingered in bed with my sleeping son for an hour. I had so many things to do, but I knew in my heart of hearts that this was going to be the last uninterrupted morning snuggles we’d ever have. That day I avoided anything that would encourage my labour and sat at every opportunity. We made it to the party and breathed through contractions every 20-30 minutes. After the party I knew we were going home to an empty house, with family having left after birthday celebrations the day before. I felt my body relax on the drive home and told our baby they were welcome to join us now.
At dinner, after 2 hours of no contractions, i sat on the mat with our kids and had one almighty contraction. I messaged my midwife and told her that I’d be having a baby soon. This was so similar to all my other children. There’s something about 6pm and labour starting for me. I went to bed and tried to rest, not knowing what the night would look like. I was so grateful for the previous week with on and off contractions as with previous labours, once I had contractions, no matter how irregularly, I was unable to sleep. However I’d surrendered and learnt to rest this time. I woke 2 hours later, like Cinderella at midnight, slightly deflated that nothing had happened but grateful for the rest. I had to trust that today was the day and that this baby was continuing to write the most beautiful story. My contractions came every 10-15 minutes. I remained horizontal for as long as I could. After a couple of hours I found myself needing to move more, but yet they remained infrequent. I phoned my mum to commence the 2 hour drive in case I needed my hubbies support and she could support our kids. I had spent months telling myself i wouldn’t call anyone before 2am. The midwife in me knows how much better you can function with at least half a nights sleep! It’s always wild how in the season we are meant to be the most selfish, we are still the most considerate.
Frustratingly my contractions stayed much the same over the coming hours. I instinctively felt the need to do a pelvic tuck. It brought on my contractions so I knew it was helping my baby to get into a better position. I wasn’t concerned about where baby was or what they were doing. All of my children have been in a posterior position during labour. It wasn’t something I feared but knew I had to work with.
Before I knew it the sun was rising. I imagined my midwife waking up wondering what the heck was going on. Even I didn’t know what was going on. I had to remind myself I didn’t need to have it all mapped out. By this point my 3 children were awake. My eldest, who was very present during the birth of her brother, kept asking when the baby was going to come. “Sometime today hopefully” we said endlessly. The doubtful part of me wondered if it would be tomorrow, then I saw the dinner table and I knew that baby would be here today, even if they were late for dinner. There was so much space and time in between contractions. My hubby sat with me in our bedroom as I worked through what I needed to to bring this baby into my pelvis.
I jumped in the shower for some space and comfort, but as things slowed I went back to pelvic tucks and dug out a breast pump. Within half an hour, around 11am by now, my contractions had jumped to 3-5 minutely. I was delaying phoning my midwife because they didn’t feel consistent enough. We were still finding our way into labour land. But as clued in midwives do, she messaged me around 12pm to see how I was going. I forgot she’d messaged hours earlier and I hadn’t replied.. I phoned and we chatted. We agreed it was a good idea for her to slowly make her way over. As soon as I got off the phone my contractions spaced again. I contemplated messaging my midwife to say stay at home. I felt a bit like a fraud when she walked in the door at 1pm. I wasn’t in labour land yet. So I stayed in my room, pump on, alternating between sitting and standing, whatever gave me more intensity, I did it. I welcomed this. I was so bloody privileged to be able to be pregnant, carry, birth and raise this baby. I think it was why I didn’t want to use my TENS. I’d used it with all previous labours. Not this time. Part of me wanted to feel it all.
Around 1:30-2:00 it clicked. Baby locked and loaded, contractions were hard and fast. We’d done it. I only asked one thing of this baby- tuck your chin down and face the right way please. And so they did. I didn’t know how long it would be, but I knew that if my contractions kept rolling in like a thundering set of waves at a beach, then it wouldn’t be hours. My mum had not long ago taken my three kids up the road for a walk. I felt the intensity shift and I panicked. My eldest daughter desperately didn’t want to miss the birth. My husband phoned my mum and they made their way back. Once they were home I felt I could relax. Everyone I needed was here.
We hadn’t started filling the bath until my midwife arrived. Why fill it if it’s going to go cold? I barely needed the shower this morning so the bath seemed a long way off. Suddenly once I was in the shower though I knew I’d need the bath soon. There’s only so fast you can fill something that big with average household water pressure! So there I was, with my single shower head, hand on the wall, rocking back and forth to get hot water on my belly and my back, my belly and my back, moaning my way through my contractions. Belly and back. In between I apologised to my neighbours, who fortunately were none the wiser to my labour.
Finally, at 3pm, my mind jumped into the pool while my jelly body slowly swung in. My daughters had chosen ‘Happy birthday’ lights which sat on the edge. I had flash backs to my son’s birth. The intensity, the pain, the enormity of it all. I had no idea how I was going to do this, but trusting I would, somehow. I’ve been shattered and rebuilt three times over. This was simply the fourth time and crescendo for our family. I had to find something that allowed me to work with my body. And I did. I knelt down, gripped my hubby’s hand and banged the side of the pool with the other. I found myself with numb feet and for the third labour in a row, ended up reclining in the bath but feeling overwhelmed and maybe even out of control. But that’s the point right? We are never really in control and so much of labour is to reach the point where we let that control go. By this point I was beyond vocalising, and even though I was focusing on keeping my birth song low and deep, I still felt myself tense and retreat. I tried horsey breaths and it was the answer. Somehow the mountain became manageable. I could traverse this one contraction at a time. With all my labours, rhythm has felt like the unsung hero. My children all came and went as they wanted or felt comfortable too. They played and ate. This was family centred birth.
Around 3:48 that intensity shifted. It was likely that my waters broke and my body just pushed with force. I had horsey breathed our baby right down. Over the next few minutes I birthed babies head, my eldest daughter watching on, torch in hand. My son coming for a visit saying “Ohhhhh yeh!” in awe. My baby continued to kick and move, a sensation that cannot be described with words. How can it be when life is caught between two worlds? With a final wave, out they came. And for the first time, with my last birth, I got to reach down and scoop my baby up. It was all birth on my terms, just as it should be.
We spent the next hour, as the sun started to decent, meeting our newest family member. My first words were “I did it!”, quickly followed by “Mummy was right”. I had a deep intuition that this baby was a girl. It didn’t matter and I didn’t care, but I was so sure. I’d gotten all their genders right but it’s always confirming to my soul when it’s right. My other daughters hopped in the pool for a visit with their sister. We fed and rested. Her cord continued to pulse for close to an hour. The afterbirth pains were so challenging as I had expected. I firmly wanted to stay in the water this time, as I’d previously found birthing my placenta painful and distracting. It was still hard and I needed the support of my hubby with some of the contractions, but the water was soothing. Affter around an hour and a half, I moved to my knees, held the cord, thanked our placenta for growing and protecting our baby, but asked it to come, and so it did. No hurry, no pressure. All in my own time. We inspected it as a family, and then I got to cut our cord. A privilege as a midwife, sometimes a necessity, but an honour as a mama.
So there we were, the birth of our fourth baby, our “family baby” complete. What would you know, it was dinner time, and we’d all made it. Finally.
Revie Elle, meaning “rebirth” and “light”, born on the 7th of the 7th. Seven being the number of fullness or completeness.
Immense gratitude to my midwives Helen and Rhiannon. Forever thankful for who you are, what you do (and don’t do) and the space you held for me 🧡
Image by Leave Them Wild Photography