The night of Birthing my second child, my baby boy

Mel lives in regional NSW, and has recently birthed her second baby, a boy. Mel shares this beautiful piece about the labour. I love her for it…her words carry the strength I can imagine she felt that night.

My pre-labour contractions are mild but very frequent.
I want to stay home.
A green tree frog is sitting on the dashboard of our van at 12 in the night.
Frog in garden and away we go.
I am thankful to be travelling to my Doula’s home first, to labour there before going to hospital.
She comments how relaxed and collected I am, this time.
I feel present!
Hours have passed.
My contractions intensify.
Walking now and the contractions are becoming overwhelming.
Time to go.
We arrive to a quiet-dark maternity ward.
I do not want to be here now, it’s 3 in the morning, not enough sleep.
I am fearful, the unknowing, of what is to come.
I am processing the birth of my daughter, two years earlier.
I lay and rest and the contractions subside.
Gentle hands massage my feet, calming me.
I feel supported by my Love and Doula.
My Doula begins to guide me through…
Time to work.
Rested and ready now.
I get up, I walk, and I sway.
The oil painting of a breastfeeding mother in the hall remarkably resembles my own mother.
I keep moving, strong shoulders to brace me.
INTENSE!
I do not feel relaxed or collected – but present.
My Doula leads me to the bath.
My Love showers me with warm water.
Soaking.
I am breathing through the waves of contractions now.
I hop out of the water.
Each breath of every contraction I squeeze my Loves hand and he breathes every breath with me.
My Doula breathes every breath with me and I look into her eyes for strength.
I reach the point where I am desperate for this to be over.
I ask for gas – my Doula’s words become my drug.
She tells me I can do this I have done it before.
The urge to push, finally!
I am upright and kneeling, my waters break.
I lay.
She encourages me to gather my strength
Four great pushes, I can feel.
My baby is born normally, naturally.
Eight in the morning.
All evaporates, my son on my breast.

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