“In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity.” – Sun Tzu

As a doula, I have the privilege of witnessing the remarkable journey of childbirth, a sacred passage marked by courage, resilience, and unwavering love. Each birth story is a tapestry of emotions, woven intricately with anticipation, joy, and sometimes, unexpected turns. Guiding mothers and their partners through this transformative experience is not just my profession; it’s a calling—a calling to provide steadfast support, advocate for informed choices, and cultivate an empowering environment where the miracle of life unfolds. In the pages of this blog, I invite you to delve into the heart of birth, where every contraction, every breath, and every gentle touch intertwines to create a masterpiece of new beginnings. Welcome to the sanctuary of birth, where miracles await.

Contractions began in the quiet hours of the morning,

but in truth, they had initiated the previous evening, persisting through the night. By 5 am, sleep eluded me entirely, prompting my rising from bed. We readied Melli for school as the dawn unfolded, her school doors unlocking at 6, akin to most childcare centers. After dropping her off, our next stop was the hospital. Though it felt a tad premature, my inclination towards a VBAC (Vaginal Birth After Cesarean) motivated us to err on the side of caution.

Upon arrival, I was examined, revealing a dilation of 2cm, and contractions occurring at roughly two every 10 minutes.

Nothing overly strenuous.

A leisurely stroll, squats, and rhythmic movements ensued to ease the process. A subsequent check two hours later unveiled a dilation of 4cm around 9 o’clock. We persisted with various activities, including a soothing shower that alleviated some discomfort. At approximately 5 to 6 cm dilation, the doctor opted to break my water, heralding the need for progress.

As contractions intensified, an hour later, I sought relief through gas.

The gas mask, filled with laughing gas, offered distraction, if not complete pain relief. Supported by Janus and my Doula, Sam, the doctor’s subsequent examination revealed a lack of progress and an unengaged fetal head after three hours. The disappointing realization of a potential cesarean section brought tears. Despite contractions intensifying to an overwhelming frequency, my desire for a natural birth remained.

Moved to the theatre,

the presence of two doctors, including a somewhat familiar face from my past pregnancy, added a twist of irony. Dr. Marais, recommended by my absent doctor, took charge. The cesarean section revealed an unsettling amount of meconium in the amniotic fluid, posing risks. Calmness prevailed, grounded in trust.

In reflection, the journey had come full circle, as the same doctor who once saw us through my previous pregnancy now helped deliver Waldi. His expertise navigated potential complications, with reassurance that the clip from a previous cesarean played no significant role in this delivery.

Waldi, our resilient little boy, emerged healthy, marking the end of a unique and eventful birthing journey.

(In theater images, supplied by the couple)