Being of sound mind and body, which you usually are before you have children and not after, I decided to have my baby at home.

I knew my baby was coming because bees had swarmed in my garden the day before and I took this as an auspicious sign, and indeed sweet like honey is my babe, creates a buzz where ever she goes.

Birth is a miraculous everyday activity, much easier to talk about than do, unlike death at the other end which is the opposite, easier to do than talk about.

So here begins the tale of the birth of Pipi Bliss Anahera Beaut Northfield (maybe not use name full).

Details like what it was I was so avidly watching on TV whilst counting my contractions elude me, and in fact the pain of this birth completely eluded me until the labour of my next child, then it all came flooding back. Clever that hormone that wipes the memory, or else quiet frankly few would choose to do it again, and again.

But then it seems to me that labour is harder and worse for women who are lucky enough to be educated, too much cerebral activity… not enough hard work. Where, in comparison, the joy of an afternoon off the daily slog of survival to have a baby is the lot of many of the women in most of the world. It was these women that I thought about when I thought of giving birth.

Back to Pipi’s story, oh the delight, the joy, the pain.

Sitting on the couch, counting, watching the second hand on the watch. It only had Roman numerals and the process did not unfortunately have the soporific effect I was hoping for… indeed by three am I was bored, lonely, scared. I decided it was time to call my first support person, the one I could count on for the hard yards.

Enter Jennifer Bland, veteran home birther, mother of Molly and daughter of a nurse. All factors I considered valuable for a companion in labour.

The increase in activity and hushed voices got the flat mate/friend and my mother curious. They awoke from their slumber not long after Jenny arrived and decided to join the vigil.

By 6am we decided to call the others that had to be there, my sister and brother and good friend Olivia. During this time I was busy breathing through and visualizing away the pain. My brother filled up the birthing pool that I had ordered in lieu of a bath. When it was full I was happy for the relief, to get into that space was sublime but had a countering effect on the labour and slowed it right down. My magical midwife had been there for awhile by this stage and was feeding me various homeopathic remedies to bring the labour on. Walking was good and the various girl friends sitting around chatting and rubbing bits putting hot towels on my back was all brilliant. Nothing was more wonderful than the father of the baby showing up… I found this hugely beneficial and to this day enjoy that bond with him, though not subsequently, this must be another hormone at work I guess.

By this stage I had not slept for twenty-four hours and was quite fatigued; but still seemingly in control. The hours wound on and eventually I decided that I needed to poo so off to the toilet. This was ostensibly my body wishing to push the baby out. At the time it felt comfortable and I could have staid there. I ended up arse up on the kitchen floor pushing the pumpkin out. Draped over my sister and backing up to the oven I started to heave. Her head crowned and the crowd went wild “oh look the head” by this time there were no less than 13 people present including my 7 year old godson who had front row seats. Another push and “oh my look at those lips, they are so huge and beautiful”. Another push and I could feel that she was mostly out. I had actually lost my contractions and praise all those years of sucking my tummy in as great training for birth, as I basically pushed her out by myself.

Her beautiful little strong body came out and she coughed and spluttered her way into the world. I turned around to lift her onto my chest but her cord was pretty short and I couldn’t lift her very high but she was amazing, just like her mother. We pushed the placenta out with a few coughs then jumped back in the pool to soak in the warmth and cuddle. Everyone was so euphoric and delighted. They had all just been part of the most magical thing in the world and were all so buzzed out and divine. The little girl was just perfect all scores immaculate and a great big head of strawberry blond hair which she has to this day, 7 years later.

For my second baby I built a birth aid contraption that suspended from the ceiling at various adjustable levels that I could lean over and hang off. Being a tall woman I found it difficult to get a powerful position during my first labour so it was good to experiment with this aid. I used the shower for pain relief for this labour and that was great. Every time it got a bit hard I would go into the shower and concentrate the pain away with the water. I knew the baby was coming all that day because I could just feel it. So when my waters broke at about 9 we called the midwife. She had only just arrived when I was ready to push her out. So cool that pushing and knowing that you are going to be able to hold your baby and that they are going to be yours. This baby twisted around on the way out and came out forehead presenting and facing the wrong way. She has a cow lick on her forehead and I blame that, must have sent her into a spin. Oh divine child she was just so pretty right from the start and man did she let us know she was here. She jumped on the breast like she had done it all before and just settled in straight away like we had been waiting for her all our lives, which of course we had.

Giving birth is just such a wonderful experience and is by far the easiest part of having children. For me anyway. I think all you need to remember is all the women that are your ancestors who are responsible for you and just believe you are part of that continuum, as are your children.