Positive wild pregnancy and free birth story

It is my utter joy & honour to share with you today the birth journey of my wonderful doula clients Amie, her partner Daniël and their daughter Lily.

In Amie’s own words:

“ My journey from maiden to mother:

I didn’t intend to freebirth initially, but knew that I didn’t want the NHS involved with my pregnancy. I also felt that I didn’t want to be monitored throughout pregnancy, but was really unsure about going about things in this way. Although some women have had pleasant experiences of pregnancy and birthing within the system, I had heard too many stories where women had also been coerced or even traumatised.

I had followed my doula, Jess, for two years before getting pregnant and felt drawn to her. My partner and I really liked Jess’ approach and felt that her views aligned with our views about birth and pregnancy. During my first meeting with her, I asked if I needed a midwife to give birth, and she told me that it was my choice. For some reason, I had never considered that it was optional to have a medical professional at the birth—society had conditioned me into thinking it was compulsory.

When I was just 12 weeks pregnant, Jess invited me along to the North East Home Birth Meet-Up, where I met many inspiring and like-minded women. I met another free-birthing mum, who was also having a wild pregnancy. Meeting her affirmed that what I wanted to do wasn’t actually crazy. However, I was not confident in my choices at this stage. It was my first pregnancy, after all. I almost felt like I was faking it, that it wasn’t really happening. Part of me worried that I might be being irresponsible by not taking part in the system, despite my inherent knowing that my body was capable without it.

At the meet-up, another Mum recommended the book Childbirth as a Rite of Passage.

This book played a huge role in shifting my perspective on pregnancy and birth. As I progressed through each stage, I became more in tune with my body. I started to learn about intuition, self-trust, and advocating for my own beliefs. My confidence grew along with our baby. I truly feel like this journey was necessary for me to become a mother who can stand up for her children. Birthing our baby felt like the final step for me. The ultimate test.

17/03/25 - The Birth of Lily Ostara

On Monday, I woke up around 2 a.m. to go to the bathroom. As I got back into bed and lay on my side, I felt a sudden gush of liquid. I thought I had wet myself. I got up, and more fluid started leaking. I was in disbelief that my waters had broken. I hadn’t even finished work yet and was supposed to be working for another two weeks. I could also feel that our baby was transverse. My partner, Daniël, reassured me that the timing was perfect. Part of me wondered if I had moved in a way that caused my waters to release (I was several weeks early).

A few minutes later, I felt my first contraction—that’s when I knew it was really happening. I messaged Jess (who wasn’t even on call for me yet) to let her know I thought I was in labour. The second surge came around 15 minutes later, and the third was 10 minutes after that. From that point on, they were consistently five minutes apart.

Daniël got up shortly after things began and started tidying the house while I tried to rest. I was able to lie down for a while, but unfortunately, I couldn’t sleep through the intensity. I used my birth comb and breathing techniques during this time.

After about two hours of period-like cramps, the sensations intensified. I got out of bed and went to the bathroom. I remember hanging off the edge of the bath, rocking up and down, almost squatting. This was the only thing that brought me relief when the contractions surged through me. I didn’t want any distractions—I didn’t even want to be touched by my partner. I focused on breathing through every wave and moving in the way my body was guiding me. I tried to keep hydrated by sipping fluids between each wave.

Jess returned my call as soon as she saw my message in the morning. After I had several contractions while on the phone with her, we decided it was time for her to come over. When she arrived, she came and sat with me. Although I felt very present at the time, this stage feels a bit blurry to me now. I remember feeling utterly exhausted—I hadn’t really slept or eaten, and I was sweating a lot. I wanted to rest so badly. Jess suggested I try lying down, which I attempted, but the contractions were unbearable in that position. I do remember wanting the pool at this point since things were becoming much more intense. Jess suggested a few alternative positions to help me manage, but for some reason, the “squatting bath hang” was the only thing that worked.

The pool was ready at about 10:30 a.m., so I made my way downstairs and got straight in. The relief was incredible, but I still needed something to hold onto. I alternated between gripping the edge of the pool and later hanging from Daniël’s hands. As Jess put it, he was my “pillar of strength.” The waves remained strong for what felt like an eternity. I kept wondering when I would feel the urge to push and found myself glancing at the clock in the living room. Somehow, I had convinced myself that because my contractions had been five minutes apart for so long, the labour would be extremely quick.

Upon reflection, I think my transition may have been an hour or two before I gave birth. Even then, I felt fully aware, but doubts crept in about whether things were progressing “as they should.” I couldn’t feel our baby descending—my stomach still felt high. I kept asking Jess things like, “When am I going to feel the fetal ejection reflex?” as if she could give me a definitive answer. She just gently reassured me that it would happen, that I was doing it. Deep down, I feared I might end up needing a C-section. I kept visualising my cervix opening wider with each contraction, reminding myself that my baby would come when my body was ready to birth her.

The Final Stage

Eventually, I began to feel the urge to push. It wasn’t what I had expected—it was more of a deep, bearing-down sensation. I was so relieved to finally reach this stage, though, because it meant I was getting close. I was completely drained. Despite feeling like I had nothing left in me, I knew I could do it. I tried eating a little and nearly threw up from the power of the fetal ejection reflex. I started using my voice along with my movements to help my body open up. These surges went on for what felt like forever—I was so eager to feel her head.

When her head finally emerged, I initially thought, oh, this must be the ring of fire everyone talks about. But it just kept getting more painful. I reached down and felt a soft head of hair. I knew I could do it. My contractions alternated between strong and weak. Every time I had a weaker one, I felt frustrated—I just wanted to push through the pain and meet her. With every powerful surge, my body told me to bear down harder. Her head finally emerged, and I told Daniël, “It’s out.” Daniël began to cry—he knew our baby would be in our arms soon.

Moments later, the rest of her body followed with a sharp sting. I reached down immediately and lifted her out of the water. I was in complete shock. I held her close, and as she cried, we cried with her. Daniël said, “It’s a girl.” We marvelled at how perfect she was. “We did it,” I sobbed.

Daniël and Jess helped me out of the water, and I sat on the sofa with Daniël and Lily. We were in a bubble of pure love and joy. I still had to birth the placenta, so I laid Lily in front of me and got straight to it. I kissed her, got on all fours, and the placenta released almost immediately. We waited a little, thanked it, then tied off and cut the cord. We spent the rest of the day in bliss—now a family of three.

The birth was raw, painful, but utterly wonderful. I’m so glad we’ve given our daughter the most peaceful start to her life outside of the womb. Our hands were the first to touch her, and she was born in the comfort of our home, surrounded by love and safety. It was everything I had dreamed of and more, and I will carry this experience with me forever.”