This week’s Birth Story Saturday comes from the lovely R, who has so generously shared her experience of bringing her baby into the world with her partner, J, by her side. It’s a beautiful story of trusting your body, trusting each other, and staying connected through every stage of labour. R’s experience shows the power of being active, upright, and following your instincts as well as the importance of speaking up when something doesn’t feel right. Thank you, R, for letting us share your story. I know it will inspire so many others to feel confident in preparing for their own birth.
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When I imagined giving birth, I always pictured something quite calm, quite grounded. Not clinical or overly “managed”, but something where I was able to just be with it. I wanted to stay present, to move how I needed to move, and to feel really supported by my partner, J.
I knew we couldn’t control everything, birth rarely sticks to a script but we had spent so much time preparing. Hypnobirthing helped massively with that, as did speaking openly and honestly about our preferences and hopes. We had practiced our breathing, spoken about different scenarios, and learnt how to make decisions that felt right for us. So when labour started, I honestly felt ready. Not in a “nothing can go wrong” kind of way but in a deep, settled “we’ve got this” kind of way.
Early labour: slow and steady
It all started one evening when I noticed a few gentle tightenings. They weren’t painful, just a bit like a wave moving across my bump. I didn’t say anything to J straight away I didn’t want to get us excited over nothing but I did quietly get on my ball and start gently rolling my hips, just in case.
A few hours later, things started to pick up a bit. Nothing major, but enough to make me pause and breathe when a wave came. I remember J looking up at me and saying, “You’re doing it, aren’t you?” and smiling. She just knew.
We lit some candles, put on our playlist, and I kept moving, walking, swaying, leaning over the sofa, bouncing on the ball. It wasn’t glamorous, and it definitely wasn’t quiet, but it felt right. The rhythm of it, the slowness. We didn’t rush to hospital. I wanted to stay at home as long as I could.
By around 3am, the surges were much stronger and coming closer together. I was finding I had to close my eyes and really focus on my breath through each one. I’d been using the “up” breathing and visualisations we’d practiced, and they were really helping to keep me grounded. Even though it was intense, I never felt scared. I felt in it. J suggested we call triage, and they told us to come in for an assessment.
We packed up our bag (well, she packed, I was deep in my zone by that point!) and we headed to hospital. I had a surge in the car park, another one in the lift, and two more just walking down the corridor. Part of me thought, “I bet they’ll tell me I’m only 2cm,” because I know that’s so common… but when they examined me, I was already 7cm dilated.
I felt such a sense of relief and pride, not just because of the number, but because I’d trusted myself. I knew my body was doing something, and I was right to stay home and follow its lead.
Staying active and upright
From that point on, things moved quite quickly. I didn’t want to lie on the bed, it just didn’t feel natural. I stood, leaned, crouched, knelt… whatever felt good in that moment. I stayed upright the entire time. I really believe that helped things keep progressing, because I could feel baby moving down, bit by bit.
J was incredible, calm, grounded, constantly tuned in to what I needed. She reminded me to sip water, kept our playlist going, whispered words of encouragement when I needed them. She was also great at speaking up for me when I didn’t have the words. We made a really good team. I honestly couldn’t have done it without her.
The breathing techniques we’d practised carried me through the intensity. There were moments when I felt myself wobble, and I’d start to say, “I don’t know if I can do this,” but every time, J would remind me, “You are doing it. Just one wave at a time.”
A bump in the road: advocating for ourselves
Not everything was perfect. We did have a bit of a wobble when one of the midwives on shift just didn’t seem to get us. She was polite, but a little dismissive, she didn’t really read the room, didn’t explain things clearly, and was quite pushy about trying to get me onto the bed, even though I’d made it really clear I wanted to stay upright.
I remember J looking at me during a break between surges, and I just said, “I don’t feel safe with her.” It wasn’t anything dramatic, but it was enough. So J gently asked if we could speak to someone else. It felt really uncomfortable, we’re both people who don’t love conflict, but I’m so glad we spoke up. Because shortly after, a different midwife came in… and she was amazing.
She was warm, calm, and completely respected our space. She quietly read through our preferences, asked a few gentle questions, and then mostly just stepped back and let me do it. It changed the whole energy in the room. Sometimes, the people around you can make such a huge difference and asking for a change isn’t rude, it’s necessary.
The pushing phase
By the time I hit transition, I knew we were close. I could feel the shift, that deep, almost primal sensation where everything changes gear. I didn’t need to be told to push. My body just did it. Those big, spontaneous, involuntary pushes took over, and I went with them.
No one counted. No one coached me. No one shouted “push!” It was just me, my body, and my baby working together. I stayed upright and leaning forward, using gravity and movement to help baby down. I could feel everything, the power, the stretching, the opening and while it was intense, it was also incredibly instinctive. I just knew what to do.
J stayed by my side the whole time, holding my hand, reminding me to breathe, and telling me how strong I was. I needed that. Sometimes just hearing your partner’s voice is all it takes to stay focused.
Meeting our baby
And then suddenly baby was here. I remember the moment of quiet, the pause right before that first cry, and then the wave of emotion that crashed over us both.
I couldn’t stop crying, big, happy, overwhelmed tears. J was crying too. We just held each other and held our baby, completely in awe.
I still can’t believe I did that. Not because I didn’t think I could, but because it just felt so right. I didn’t need anyone to tell me how to birth. I didn’t need to be “managed” or coached or saved. I just needed to be trusted and to trust myself.
Looking back
Birth wasn’t easy. It was powerful, messy, raw, and emotional. But it was also deeply beautiful.
We’d gone into it with so much preparation from learning about birth physiology to talking about our preferences, understanding our rights, and connecting with each other. And it paid off.
We advocated for ourselves when something didn’t feel right. We stayed active and upright, which felt good for me and helped my body do its thing. We trusted in spontaneous pushing, and let my body lead the way. We made decisions together. And most of all — we felt strong, together, as a team.
Birth can be so many things. And I’m so grateful that ours felt like ours.