My name is Anna - I’m married to Adrian and this is the story of how our baby girl, Maggie, came to be born at home in West Kirby on 3rd November 2009.

At my very first appointment with a midwife I was told about the option of home birth but as Maggie was our first child, I felt unsure whether this was the right choice for us at the time, though the idea of it really appealed to me. It felt very early to be making such decisions- at 9 weeks pregnant I was still only just getting my head around the little life growing inside me and trying to deal with overwhelming nausea. So at the time I opted for a birth at the local hospital, with the provision that I could change my mind at a later date. Over the months that followed, I thought more and more about what would be best for us. Time and again I heard from my pregnant peers that they too liked the idea of a home birth but that they felt it was too risky for a first time mother. In my work life, I had seen many babies born by ‘emergency’ caesarean, but had never ever witnessed a ‘normal birth’. I wondered whether it was possible to give birth without the drama. Then I began to hear some really positive home birth stories from friends of friends and to consider the published evidence, which seemed to suggest that in a ‘low-risk’ pregnancy, outcomes could actually be better at home.

Soul searching began in earnest. Were my reasons for wanting to give birth at home purely selfish? What if something were to go wrong? Or what if choosing to give birth in hospital actually increased the risk of intervention and a less than ideal birth for Maggie and me? Of course there were no simple or conclusive answers to these questions but I could feel myself being more and more drawn towards wanting to give birth at home. Three trips to the local hospital for pregnancy related illness only served to remind me that hospital was not a place where I felt relaxed, comfortable or able to sleep. So, with reassurance from a well organised community midwife team, at 30-something weeks pregnant, I decided to aim for the best possible scenario and to opt for a home birth.

Relief and excitement followed making this decision though I felt somewhat guarded about sharing the news with a few of my nearest and dearest as I anticipated some disapproval, and I didn’t feel that I wanted to justify or discuss mine and Adrian’s decision at length. It had taken a long time to get to a point where I felt pretty comfortable with our choice, and I didn’t want anybody to burst my bubble. However, as the home birth kit was delivered to our home 37 weeks into my pregnancy, I felt that the time had come to share our plans with everybody. I couldn’t think of any other way to explain the birthing pool, resuscitation equipment and large canister of gas and air taking up half the dining room! I was surprised that most people were supportive, and everybody was at least respectful about our right to choose.

During my pregnancy Adrian and I had decided to do a Hypnobirthing course in addition to our NCT classes. We practised the Hypnobirthing techniques and affirmations in the hope that my labour and Maggie’s birth would be as relaxed, easy and natural as possible. We also prepared the house as much as we could- bought stocks of waterproof sheets and towels, did a dry run of setting up the birthing pool, wrote our birth plan and made our birthing room as calm and comfortable as possible, with photos, images and a poem that was meaningful to us stuck above the fireplace. It was a lovely time of nesting, planning and wondering what would be.

The waiting game had now begun. Local policy stated that I was allowed to give birth at home between 37 and 42 weeks pregnant, otherwise I would have to go to hospital to deliver. I began to feel increasingly anxious that I might not get my chance to even try birthing at home if Maggie decided to come early, or late, or if any complications arose. Her due date came and passed. Occasionally I’d get a little twinge, or some back ache, but in a while it would pass again. I kept my self busy and went for long walks and bounced on my exercise ball in the hope of getting Maggie moving.

A couple of days before we hit the 41 week mark my back started feeling a bit achy in the evening. The next morning this sensation was still there, but didn’t seem all that different to the mild aches and pains of the last few weeks. I spent the day pottering about- coffee with a friend, a lap of the marine lake and a wander round the shops. Adrian phoned to see whether things had progressed- I said I thought perhaps this was the beginning of labour, but that there was no need to dash home. By the time Adrian got in from work that evening the sensation in my back had become more intense. I was sure now that this was really it! After we’d eaten I had a bath, took a couple of paracetamol and then put on my TENs machine. We went to bed early, in the hope of getting some sleep in preparation for the excitement ahead, but I just couldn’t sleep. Every time I started to nod off, I was woken with the contractions, which were coming about 20 minutes apart. Finally, at about 5 am tiredness got the better of me and I managed to sleep for a few hours.

In the morning I was due to see the midwife for a ‘sweep’ and to be provisionally booked in for an induction the following week. Although I felt sure that I was in labour I decided to go along to the appointment anyway. The midwife examined me and confirmed that my cervix was 2cm dilated and that the sensations I described were probably ‘pre-labour’ pains. I went home sweating and hoping that this was more labour than pre-labour!

Adrian and I passed the morning together, talking, singing, moving about, dancing, laughing and listening to our Hypnobirthing CD. At lunchtime my Dad and his wife arrived from the South. Knowing that I’d been due to have a ‘sweep’ that day, they’d decided to come to keep me company whilst Adrian was at work, in case my labour had begun. Arriving to find that something was already happening and that Adrian was at home with me, they decided they would stay until things were at a point where we would prefer to be alone and then they would head to a nearby hotel.

During the afternoon the intensity of my contractions increased and they began to come at shorter, but still erratic intervals. I found that I could control the intensity of the contractions to a level that I found comfortable by leaning forward on a chair, kneeling over the exercise ball or standing with Adrian supporting me.

That evening I lay down for a rest as I was beginning to feel really tired. I managed to doze for about half an hour and found that in resting my contractions stopped altogether. Although I was glad to be able to rest, I felt slightly despairing that the contractions were not settling into a pattern of becoming regular and at shorter intervals. It had been drummed into me that this would be the mark of ‘established labour’ and I’d been advised that I only needed to call for a midwife to come once my contractions were 5 minutes apart.

Adrian read ‘The Balloon Trip’ to me- a passage that had been given to us on our Hypnobirthing course, designed to help a labouring Mum let go of any psychological blocks to labour progressing. Whether due to this or not, when I got up from my rest, the contractions, though still very much erratic began to come every couple of minutes at times. I decided to take a shower and to call for the midwife to come.

At around 9pm the first of our midwives arrived. Almost as soon as she got there I felt my waters break and the contractions quickly became very intense. On examining me she found that I was 9cm dilated and so she set up the gas and air and called for the second midwife to come. Adrian was so elated to find that things had progressed so far that he was almost in tears. I was too consumed by the contractions, which were coming thick and fast, to feel like celebrating. A farcical scene then followed, with my Dad and Adrian toting buckets of cold water from the kitchen to the birthing pool, which we’d filled with water that was too warm, expecting not to need it for a while. I lay on the floor with my gas and air canister, waiting to get in. There was no time for my Dad to make his exit (though he’d probably rather have been a million miles away) - it was all hands on deck.

I got into the pool, ready to push, and with each contraction I let out a shout. While I had been told in our Hypnobirthing course to try to ‘breathe the baby out’ without force, it felt as if every cell in my body was bearing down, almost involuntarily. I cringed, ‘Oh God, the neighbours might hear! Oh God, my Dad is listening!’, but I needed to be vocal at that moment.  After half an hour of pushing, at 11.02 that evening our beautiful daughter was born, weighing 7lb 4oz. I pulled her out of the water onto my chest, her alert brown eyes staring into mine. I couldn’t believe my luck. All my dreams had come true! The baby I had always wanted, perfect, healthy, born at home and lying in my arms.

The story is almost perfect, but not quite. Unfortunately, I suffered a third degree perineal tear during delivery, so my hopes of snuggling into my own bed with Maggie that night were dashed. About 2 hours after her birth, an ambulance came to take us to hospital where I went to theatre to have the tear repaired under spinal anaesthetic. Though I’m glad that this procedure was carried out in the best environment for it, I found this part of my experience really tough. I went from feeling totally empowered and in control of what was happening, to completely powerless, numb from the waist down, with a drip and catheter in situ, and with my baby placed in a plastic box next to me when we were reunited after my trip to theatre. We were in hospital for two days before being discharged.

I have often wondered whether the perineal tear could somehow have been prevented but I look back at the rest of our birth experience with joy and gratitude. And although dinner guests may not share the same excitement, I love the warm fuzzy feeling I have inside when I sit in my dining room and think - this is the spot where my darling baby took her very first breath.