We would love to hear your birth story. If you would like to share your experience please email your stories to
jules@aboutbirth.com.au




The Birth of Maya
13th February 2007

Your story begins- where? with a storytelling dream days before conception? in an arrogant GP’s chair where a dismal possibility is given me? In a gay pub in Perth where I meet Adrian? Or way back in my own childhood somewhere half forgotten? Probably you have your own stories already, stories I don’t know, carried from other times and places, other lives. But this story, this one is ours, yours and mine.

So your story, for the sake of this narrative, begins two days before you are born. It is Saturday in the dandenong hills, summer. I am heavy with you, though this has not stopped me going for a walk in the crackly green-brown bush. I am ready for you, I decide on this morning. I am not sick of being pregnant, simply ready to meet you. I have done all I need to- almost.

I tell Adrian that I am ready, call my mother who recommends an evening of curry and sex. So, I spend the morning baking your birthday cake- chocolate fudge with blackberry filling- and the evening cooking curry for the three of us. In the warm afternoon I stitch your muslin wrap, tea-dyed a light brown, stitch your name, MAYA, in green life-giving thread as I pray words of gratitude and hope. You will be born tomorrow, I believe.

Sunday arrives, lengthens, and you do not. Trying not to be disappointed I invite a friend, Jana, for dinner, and tell her to pick up a bottle of red wine. As I sip my glass of red and listen to Jana and Adrian talk I feel the tightenings in my belly intensify. Is it coming?

I go to bed full of nervous anticipation, expecting an interrupted night, wondering whether to tell Adrian what I suspect, and then I sleep soundly! But when I wake around seven, lie for a moment tree-watching as I do every morning, my waters gush out around me in an ohhhh of surprise. This is it now, truly, one of those lovely no-doubt signs that I instantly share with Adrian. Before calling the midwives at the birth centre- I am to give birth at monash birth centre clayton, in the birthing pool I hope- I eat some cereal Ad brings me, light incense and thank the goddess all the ways I know. Then I call the midwives, and my mother, and when Jana wakes I tell her too while making cups of tea.

Soon after my waters breaking a contraction begins which is different to those practice ones I’ve felt so far. This is much stronger, not painful, but strong and I know it to be a real one. More follow, and when Adrian times them they are coming seven or eight minutes apart. I spend the morning upstairs, dancing through my contractions initially, on the balcony (there are photos of me at this point, smiling, then frowning with concentration), moving to lie on the bed later for a rest. Adrian breathes with me, kisses me with compliments on my beauty and strength. I will be a perfect mother, he assures me. These first hours (4? 5?) are blissful, peaceful and warm. I am humming with excitement.

My mum arrives at some point, and Jana is still here, with no way of getting to the train. I worry about her at first, but she is enjoying this experience, making cups of tea and hanging out washing, sometimes coming to sit with us and breathe, radiating her own  light as only Jana can. Mum brings me a hot water bottle and takes turns rubbing my back. She and Adrian are all I need, the perfect support, and as my focus turns more inward and contractions demand more of my attention- and last longer, arrive closer together- I need them to make decisions for me. I am unaware of the time of day, the time between contractions too, I am unable to have conversations mostly. All my attention is on my breath, my womb, my muscles, my daughter readying for birth.

Towards late afternoon mum decides I am ready, it is time to leave. Adrian walks me to the car, which Jana has quietly packed, and we drive the 40 minutes to Clayton, to the sounds of massive attack. I learn later that mum completed some highly illegal manouvers to avoid a traffic jam! This time in the car is the hardest for me, my focus having been disrupted, I struggle to not lose my breath, and I think I begin to really vocalize at this point, moaning into contractions giving me new strength. Our walk through the hospital up to the birth centre is punctuated by three contractions, me leaning into Adrian and moaning into his neck, wearing sunglasses and with my eyes close. I don’t want to see my surroundings, don’t want to know that I am in a hospital. Later I think that this really helped me to hold my focus and not become scared or stressed. Unlike many women, my labour did not slow with my arrival at the birth centre. Covering the bed with a familiar fabric, and setting my small bronze goddess on the table helped me to feel comfortable in this new room.

It is five or six when we arrive, and apparently they are busy because while a midwife greets us she soon leaves and for the next hour I don’t see anyone else. The three of us- four including you!- continue to labour peacefully, with contractions building in strength. I am kneeling on the bed, draped over the high wooden head, rocking us through. At some point I wonder if a midwife will come in soon, examine me, take me to the bath. Then all I think of is my contracting/expanding uterus, your small body, my own body opening… I open my mouth and moan, echoing the opening of my cervix. I feel a strong urge to push- it’s too soon, isn’t it? I try not to push- I need to poo, no I don’t I need to push! I feel myself open and I swear your head is right there… I manage to whisper to Adrian that I think, I need my underwear off (why the hell is it still on?!) and look- yes! I can feel her head with my hand!

You are coming… now a new energy soars through me, I know that you are coming, you are close, so close now. I will meet you so soon! All I need to do is keep breathing, let my body do it’s work…

A midwife comes in, mum having called for one, says (Adrian remembers this) “I don’t know you Cathy, but you are about to have a baby” and starts to do her thing. Now I push! I feel you on my perineum, as they say, and that burning they speak of is very real, burning is how it feels. But you are coming, and if I just groan a bit louder I can push harder…

The midwife encourages me to change position, a half-lying which will open me up a bit and allow your head through. And it does. Your head crowns, I can feel the difference, and a release of pressure until I begin to push out your shoulders.

You are born slippery, black-haired, open eyed; caught by Adrian and the midwife together; delivered onto my chest where I struggle to hold your slipperiness and am stunned by the size of you. So big! How did I birth you? How did I carry you? I am amazed at both of us, so proud of us both, and I am grinning at Adrian, the third element of team bob-bob, this amazing unit that is us. Your grandmother is still here, welcoming you into a line of strong women. The midwife cleans up and leaves us. You are so obviously healthy, pink and alert. You are perfect. I recognize you. You are Maya, my daughter, strong and calm little person.

This is of course the climax, but there is more:

Your cord, that pulsing ugly-beautiful cord that fed you, is cut by Adrian. It’s harder than he imagines (your placenta, which it inexplicably takes three hours and a team of   

Medical staff to deliver, we take home to plant under a special tree for you). You take to my breast like a natural, which of course you are. Mum leaves and the three of us sleep- well you sleep soundly and we doze in between watching you and congratulating each other on our very fine work! Adrian and I devour crap hospital sandwiches with pleasure, the pair of us starving after not eating and working so hard for 12 hours. We wait until the next morning to weigh and measure and examine you and you pass all tests with flying colours, a perfectly healthy little person- well, quite a big person for a newborn, 53cm tall. We take you home that day, almost 24 ours after your birth at 7.45pm. Out of the airconditioned centre and up to our treehouse in the hills, to get to know each other.

It’s well into morning before I realize that I never made it near the pool. I didn’t need to. Your birth was more perfect even than my dreams of it.




The Birth of Jessica Rose Delahoy
24th June 2003

I truly believe that education and preparation is the key to a good birthing experience. We were like sponges, we couldn’t get enough information and would give anything a go to help us prepare for a wonderful birthing experience such as yoga, naturopathy, perineal massage, relaxation/meditation, choosing a trained birth attendant/support person (doula) and my husband and I aren’t remotely the hippie/alternative types. Despite all the negativity (“trust me, go for the epidural”, “Take all the drugs you can get, you’ll need them”) and horror birth stories that people are so keen to share; we persevered.

Looking back our only poor decision was the hospital we chose for the birth.

When I was 30+, weeks the hospital informed me that I would definitely not be able to use their bath which was very disappointing as having a bath available was important for us and I would not have booked the hospital knowing that. The excuses they gave were pretty poor and included the fact that the bath was in a separate room and they were afraid that I may disturb other mothers with “all the noise I would make” and they also occasionally used the room to settle babies in. I thought it was a bathroom not a nursery!

In the end, I questioned the Director of Nursing and the nurse in charge of maternity about using the bath and was given an all out definite no from everyone, so I’ve now ruined it for other labouring women who may have been able to sneak in there in the middle of the night with the OK of a sympathetic midwife.

I began to worry what else the hospital might spring on us at the last minute, they were obviously not as flexible and “open minded” as they had been promoting themselves. Initially when we were booking in to the hospital, nothing was a problem and they would try to meet all our birthing needs (funny I never did get to see the birthing stool I requested during the labour, lost somewhere in a cupboard, risk of vulval bruising I was told and then further requests ignored, I wanted to give it a go, my choice or so I thought).

I discussed with Richard changing hospitals and was promptly told by one of my Dr’s midwives that I wouldn’t have a hope in hell of booking into another hospital. I considered switching to the Hawthorn Birth Centre which is a private birthing centre in Melbourne (which sadly now is closing) but I loved my own Dr and happy with my care and was also afraid of the additional costs of switching so I took it no further.

If only I had listened to my own gut feeling, it wasn’t overwhelming but deep down I knew that the hospital I had chosen was not for me and that I was risking further problems. Next time I will seriously consider a home birth or at the very least a birthing centre.

Anyhow, it all began on Monday the 23rd June 2003. I was four days overdue and I was desperate to avoid a medical induction. I had booked an appointment with the acupuncturist the next day to help induce my labour. In the meantime I had been going through a list of things to try to bring on the labour and resorted to taking some castor oil the night before (the sex didn’t seem to be working but it was keeping my husband happy!!).

Around 2pm that day my braxton hicks contractions began to organize themselves more regularly, every time I had one I would check my watch and it would be roughly on the quarter hour, so I knew something was starting. My waters broke at about 8:30pm that night (I never had a “show”) not a great deal but enough to warrant a change of clothes and a shower. At that time I cried. I was hoping they would break much later on during the labour because I was carrying the group B strep. Bacteria and my Dr had told me he would intervene only 6-8 hours after my waters broke if my labour didn’t progress well.  He couldn’t risk the baby being infected by the bacteria present in my vagina and told me that this infection is the number one cause of death in newborns.

My contractions started coming 3-5minutes apart at this stage and I rang my doula to let her know what was happening and we remained in phone contact with her throughout the evening.

We finished getting all our stuff together and packed the car, it seemed like a lot of gear to take with us but everything Lina had suggested might be useful we took.

At around midnight the contractions were around 3 minutes apart and it was time to go but I wasn’t too keen to get in the car.

15 minutes later we were admitted to our birthing suite, we rang our doula to let her know to come in and began to set up our things around the room. 

We dimmed the lights, set up the electric oil burner with mandarin, lavender and geranium oils, covered the clock with a sarong so we didn’t have to be reminded of the time, put on a reiki music cd (which pretty much played non-stop), filled our bucket with boiling water for the hot towels, put out our pillows and put the yoga mat in the shower (to kneel on). We had rescue remedy, homeopathic remedy (Caulophyllum), massage oil, wheat pack, wooden massagers, headphones for music, snack food, drinks, torch and mirror, a little bunny hat to focus on and the camera ready to go.

By the time our doula had arrived, we had created a beautifully calm and relaxing environment for baby’s arrival.

We had a support team of three consisting of Richard, my Mum and our doula which we opted for in case my Mum didn’t make it in time from overseas but she did and everyone was kept busy getting hot water, towels, supporting me etc and they could take turns at having a break and I figured the more support the better for me.

We had to have an hour of electronic feotal monitoring to start with to make sure everything was okay which was a standard requirement but I wasn’t happy having to keep still on the bed. I also had a shot of penicillin and an IV line put in for further doses of penicillin. This was to protect the baby from strep. B infection as the penicillin would reach the baby via the placental blood flow.

I laboured well throughout the night, I used the Swiss ball in the shower, the toilet to squat on with the hand held shower on my lower back, squatted whilst supported in the shower and hanging on to the end of the bed, used the mats on the floor and walked around a lot including visiting the babies in the nursery to inspire me.

The shower and hot towels on my buttocks and lower back were the best pain relief. If only the hospital would have let me use their bath.

The midwives at the time were great, they could see that we were under control and were coping well and only came in to check on us occasionally and to do feotal monitoring with a hand held device (a sonicaid). They were non-intrusive and respectful of our birthing plan.

When my Dr came in around 5am I was 7cm dilated.

I had opted for no routine vaginal exams, which was a really good idea as they were pretty painful.

I was becoming increasingly tired and I cried and begged for my support people to let me sleep.  Forget the pain relief drugs, all I wanted was a good 12-hour sleep and then I promised I’d be back into it. I managed to cope with the contractions with lots of deep breathing that I practiced prior to birth with Lina’s breathing/relaxation tapes and made plenty of noise to help open and release.

My Dr came back at around 7:30am and I was 9cm dilated, I was ecstatic, we were going so well.

At this time we had a change of midwife and the new nurse was a traditional “medical model midwife” who was disrespectful of our wishes and active birth plan.

If she did read our birth plan as the other midwives had she may have realised that it was not for her and swapped with another nurse.  I felt that she wanted to see us fail in our attempts to have a natural birth as she did very little to help encourage us, more so she began to go try to force us to do it her way.

She began by switching on lights, banging and crashing as she checked equipment, telling us to move things out of her way as this was her area to work from (well excuse me!!).

She would stand there with her hands on her hips watching me or timing my contractions and making inappropriate comments, repeatedly calling me a stupid girl for burning my backside with the hot towels (the next day there was not a mark to be seen) and she offered me pain relief even though we clearly stated in our birth plan not to be offered anything, we would ask if we felt it necessary.

I felt threatened and my special space was rapidly being eroded. I wanted her to leave.

My contractions began to slow and decrease in intensity. No one was game to ask her to leave; we didn’t know what we could do or how to get rid of her, my husband told me later that he was so close to telling her to get the F---k out but was afraid that the other midwives would be put off taking over after hearing of this.

My support team began to surround me in a cocoon of support and try to push out this woman’s negativity.

We discussed any possible emotional issues that may be slowing my labour but there was nothing. I pushed myself to cry for the release, we tried every position and everything we could think of (including cuddle time alone with Richard) but nothing was helping. I knew I was in trouble, the tiredness had got to me and the midwife was certainly making things worse. At 11.00am I was still 9 cm dilated, my labour had stalled, I had run out of time and I had little choice but to have a Syntocinon drip (a synthetic form of oxytocin) to start up the contractions again and fully dilate. I knew the Syntocinon would bring the contractions on hard and fast so I asked for gas to help me cope when the contractions kicked in again.

I also had to have more electronic foetal monitoring, I insisted that the midwife do whilst I was upright on the ball but she couldn’t get a good trace and told me I had to get up on the bed and was becoming increasingly impatient with me.

When I got onto the bed on my back she triumphantly said, “ Now that’s better, you shouldn’t be gallivanting around like a filly but lying here like a mare” and more unbelievably she said it twice. She still wasn’t getting a great trace and had to do manual monitoring as well and I was in a great deal of pain lying on my back and trying to keep still.

I changed position as soon as the monitoring was finished, Hallelujah!!.

When my Dr came back I asked him to ask the midwife to leave but he tried to comfort me and said that I was nearly there and to just hang in there with her. I felt no one would listen to me or take my distress about her seriously. I found out later at my six week check-up that he had two other complaints from patients about the same midwife and still he did nothing at the time, I felt betrayed.

I really thought I was more likely to be aggressive and abusive during labour based on my normal personality type but in fact I was so completely the opposite to what I would normally be like. I was very meek and mild and felt very vulnerable and couldn’t bring myself to tell this midwife to leave off, I just put up with her.

Second stage was a bit of a shock, not so much the pain but the intensity and the sensations.  I was amazed by the capacity of my body to take over the pushing after the start of each contraction.  I was told once that having a baby was like “shitting a football sideways”, I now know this woman was talking about second stage and the baby moving through the birth canal.

I had coped brilliantly with the contractions in first stage but I felt lost in second stage, particularly with my breathing but I suspect this is what loosing control and surrendering to the process of labour means.

I moved to the floor on my knees and Richard sat on a chair with my head on his lap. As the baby began to crown I was so not interested in looking with the mirror, I was totally focused on pushing and breathing.  My Dr made it just in time (he only had to run down one set of stairs). He helped protect my perineum as the head emerged using his fingers front and back (God knows how there was enough room for his fingers in there as well).

Another push and at 2pm Jessica Rose arrived safely after 17 hours of established labour, 24 hours all up.

They handed her through between my legs in front of me, I could finally see my beautiful little girl. She was wide eyed and alert, sucking her hands and then began screaming. I couldn’t bring her right up as the cord was short so my Dr waited until it had stopped pulsating and then Richard cut the cord and then I lifted her up to my bare chest in total amazement and shock that we had done it.

I really wanted a natural third stage delivery and my Dr had suggested that I review it at the time depending on how tired I felt as he had only 2 patients in 1500 that had a natural third stage (it would be interesting to know how many of those1500 women knew that they actually had a choice). But I felt fantastic, high on my own endorphins and I wanted to do it on my own. When my Dr checked the placenta was already in the vagina, it had become detached and was right behind the baby due to the short cord, one push and it was out (make that 3 in 1500 now).

I only had a small surface tear on my perineum (all that perineal massage worked!!) and my Dr kindly got down on his knees whilst I lay on the floor and added a stitch. Lucky as they would never have had a chance in hell of getting me back up on that bed.

Everyone then left us alone together, our new family.

Overall, I did have a wonderful birth experience with healthy baby and all up it was very close to my ideal. But I was still angry, primarily with myself and also with my support people and my Dr for not doing something to stop this midwife from tarnishing the most special time in my life.

For weeks I would replay the labour again and again in my head and I had trouble sleeping, especially during the day so I became increasingly exhausted.

I found a post labour debriefing session with my doula (who is also a trained counsellor) very valuable in acknowledging my feelings and helping deal with these issues.

I have also recently written a letter to the hospital (although it’s taken nearly four months to feel in the right frame of mind to do so) outlining what happened, not complaining outright but positive suggestions for protocol that could be put into place to prevent this happening to other women in their hospital and to ensure that women and their support people understand what they can do if a similar situation should arise, although you would hope that there’s not too many horrible midwives still out there.

Writing our birth story has been very healing for me and has helped in the completion of issues surrounding the birth and I hope our  experience may in some way help other women.

In the meantime, we will continue to rave about independant workshops to others and encourage education not ignorance about choices in birthing and how fulfilling natural, drug free birthing can be and YES YOU CAN DO IT!!



The Birth of Barnaby Beahan
20th December 2001

2001, we both agree, was one of the best years of our lives. I had accrued ten months paid leave, ( six months half pay, long service leave and 4 months of full pay, annual leave),  from my work as an Intensive Care nurse in Royal Perth Hospital. My wife Lisa and I packed up our newly aquired Land Cruiser with tent and necessities and headed off in February on a lap of this wide, wonderful land, Australia.

April found us sitting suspicious and excited at a table in a national park near Hobart.  Me with a beer, Lisa a wine, a ciggie each, a cup of Lisa's urine and a pregnancy test strip. The blue stripe came up positive; we crushed up our remaining  cigarettes, tipped out the drinks, hugged each other and quietly panicked!

Our antenatal care began with a marvellous midwife in Launceston, who took an hour out of his busy day to show us around the 'Lonnie' Hospital and gave us some idea of what we should be doing and expecting during this early stage of pregnancy. He also gave us a copy of their antenatal guide with recommended dates for scans, Drs appointments etc. Our first medical checkup took place in Byron Bay. We chose Byron Bay to see a Doctor because of Byrons' reputation as an alternative lifestyle haven. We weren't disappointed. The G.P took his time with us, answered our questions and with his doppler scan gave us the first listen of our babys' heartbeat. Hearing this really brought home to me the reallity that there was another someone accompanying us on the trip 'round. My heart rate almost matched the accelarated beat of the foetus with the trepidation I was feeling. Am I ready to be a Dad?

Pompuraww, an aboriginal community in Cape York, far north Queensland. Five months into it and Lisa is really begining to show. Dawn at the rivermouth and I'm indulging in my new found passion for fishing whilst Lisa sleeps in the tent. Sharing this memorable sunrise are swarms of nervous baitfish scattering before the rising tide and a tall, capable looking bloke, standing nearby casting hopefully for a Barramundi. He introduces himself as Paddy, and we chat and fish. Turns out he is travelling around Australia with his wife Jules and two kids, Barney 3 and Ruby 18 months.

" Barney eh, great name, mind if I steal that one?"

"No Worries, Go for your life"  So we did. But that's jumping ahead a bit.

Paddy told me that morning about how he spent the nine months of their first pregnancy panicking about the prospect of becoming a father, would it change everything, was he up to it? Pretty much everything I was thinking and feeling. He also told me that, don't worry, it would all be alright. It felt great to hear another man talk about the,to me, frightening prospect of fatherhood. We didn't catch many fish that morning but laid the foundation of a lasting friendship.

We moved on that day down the track to Shalfo Crossing on the Mitchell river. A beautiful place to have a dip, dangle a fishing line and we set up camp not far from Paddy and Jules. We were amazed at how clean and organised their popup caravan was considering they had spent weeks in some of the most remote parts of far Nth Queensland. Jules produced pizza for dinner that night, remarkable to us. Barney and Ruby played happily and were delightful to be around. They settled into their beds without a squeak and we settled in around the campfire. High on the list of conversation topics were pregnancy, birth and parenting. These two had obviously got it so right that we were keen to quiz them and learn from their experience. Jules spoke eloquently of her birth experiences and the contrast between the hospital birth of Barney and the wonderful home waterbirth of Ruby. Paddy chipped in with his thoughts on the deliveries and his role in the process. It was all positive stuff and just what two nervous, parents to be, needed to hear. The message that we took away from the evening was that birthing is a natural process that women are made for and that it would all be alright!

We bumped into Paddy and Jules," down the track," in Katherine and Broome. They were always great company and showed a keen interest in us and our pregnancy.Soon after we completed our trip and were back in Perth for the last month of waiting for the baby, Paddy and Jules arrived in town, staying with a friend in East Fremantle. They came to visit us and spent the day at our place in Watermans Bay. It was during this visit that Jules really empowered Lisa. Just by reinforcing how it was possible to have a natural birth and how wonderful it could be. She was open and honest and so very knowledgeable about the birthing process. Her enthusiasm for all things 'baby' was contagious. I remember saying to Jules that day that she should run courses on the subject. So I was not surprised to learn that she is now doing just that and more with " About Birth". She really is perfect for the role!

Our son Barnaby was born on the 20th December in the bathroom of the Family Birth Centre, King Edward Memorial Hospital, Subiaco. He came after a six hour labour with just Lisa, myself and one marvellous midwife present. But to this day Lisa says that Jules was there too. Her encouragement and education stayed with Lisa and really helped her through the whole birthing process. We felt lucky to have met her; to have her as a mentor. We also know that we are so very lucky to have had such a terrific pregnancy, delivery and a beautiful nine pound baby boy. The whole experience was wonderful beyond words. I remember calling Paddy that day and saying that he had told me it would all be alright and it was, it was alright!

It's fantastic that others are now able to have their birthing experiences enhanced as we did, by the invovlement of Jules through "About Birth".