Giving birth is a piece of cake...well, almost.

Disclaimer: These are my own experiences and obviously I know there are certain things that happen that mean medical intervention is necessary. But I love giving birth. And I love doing it my own way. 

I always thought pregnancy was disgusting. Pretty strong words, I know. When my sister was expecting her first child and felt him kick and squirm in her swollen belly, my own stomach flipped over in a nervous panic. I imagined being pregnant felt like your body had been taken over by a parasitic alien. And don't get me started on when she'd pull up her top and you could see the outline of an elbow or a foot and her flesh rippling under every move. It freaked me out. And giving birth? Jesus, the thoughts of it made me cross my legs and squeeze my pelvic floor muscles with all my might. So what about the end product? The beautiful wrinkly little creature that emerged when the nine months of pregnancy was over? Well of course they were adorable. Little old man faces and stretched out fingers and toes and slow motion yawns. But I never wanted one. Having nieces and nephews was enough. I always said that I'd only have a baby when I could grow it in a bubble that simply popped when the baby was done baking. No mess. No squeals. No pushing or stretching or ripping, thank you very much. 

So you can imagine my thought process when I discovered my eldest was on the way. Don't get me wrong, not for one second did I think 'shit, I don't want this baby'. I was just panicked at the thought of growing it and squeezing it out. The baby part I could handle. The pregnancy and birth part, not so much. I'd heard horror stories of women going through agony for days, pooing all over themselves and their midwife, being left with scars and a walk like John Wayne. Nothing about it was glamorous or something that I wanted to go through. So I decided I needed to brainwash myself. Yup. I needed to re-programme my brain. For as long as I had been old enough to know anything about the birds and the bees or had been able to watch scenes on the telly of women giving birth, it had been presented to me as a torturous experience that everyone had to endure in order to meet their baby. The squeals, the sweats, the terror and agony. I wanted to erase all that from my memory and convince myself that really, it can't be that bad. Surely people would never have more than one child if it was that horrific an experience.

So I read positive birth stories, told myself that I was looking forward to labour and bought a birthing programme called Gentlebirth - which was actually created by an Irish midwife and has a really great support network of mums on its private Facebook group - and listened to the tracks on my iPod as much as I could. I usually ended up falling asleep after a few minutes of it but listening to affirmations like 'my baby is the perfect size for my body' and to a calm and soothing voice telling me that I could do this really flipped things around for me. Even if I was asleep most of the time, it obviously had some sort of an impact because I eventually got used to the idea and my fear disappeared. 

I'm not a hippy dippy type of person at all - I don’t fit the stereotypes of the ‘type’ of woman who would shun the drugs on offer and go for an au-natural approach. But most of the Gentlebirth mums aren’t. They’re smart, educated, fun, normal women who want to take control of their own bodies and allow birth to happen to them as naturally as possible. Gentlebirth helped me enjoy my pregnancies for the most part. And my labours, thankfully, were amazing experiences that I'd do all over again a heartbeat. Of course labour is no walk in the park - they don't call it labour for nothing. But it's not the nightmare that women are brainwashed into thinking it is. We're constantly being prepared for the worst and being told that we're not strong enough and need as much intervention as possible. We're poked and prodded and if things don't happen to someone else's timetable, they stick their oars in with talk of 'rupturing membranes' and sticking needles in your arms and 'helping things along'. Of course intervention is necessary in some cases. People need help to cope with pain or may need a C Section for their own or their baby’s safety. But when a woman who is birthing normally and in her own time, her own way, is told by medics - often men who no matter what their qualifications are will never really know what it's like - that she's doing it wrong or needs to listen to them as opposed to her own body, then I'm sorry, but please get lost. Women are second guessing themselves and encouraged to ignore their own feelings and instincts as they don't fall in line with hospital policy. 

My second child was born less than three minutes after arriving in hospital. Three hours before that I'd been sent home from a scheduled hospital appointment after being told 'your cervix is high and unfavourable, you're not going to be back here for another week at least'. I replied, telling her I thought she was wrong, that'd I'd be going into labour very soon. That in fact I was in labour at that very moment. She stuck me on a trace and smiled, "see, you're not in labour at all. No contractions, nothing." I smiled and told her I thought the machine was wrong and although I wasn't in any pain, I left the hospital and knew I'd be back there that night. Sure enough, an ambulance dash, a smashed iPod and a bit of drama for the neighbours who thought I was going to have a baby in the garden, I returned and my little man was born straight away. After being told he was a boy, my first words after giving birth were, "I told you I was in labour". 

Baby number three was different. My waters went in the middle of the night despite me not having any contractions at all but I went to the hospital anyway. They told me I would be induced if I didn’t go into labour within the day and they’d already put the canula in my arm to administer an anti biotic in case of an infection. I spent the day walking the wards, bouncing on a birthing ball, trying to rest and willing my baby to kick herself into action. And she did. Just as the midwives were about to change over for the night and as my husband was about to find out where we could get a decent curry near the hospital, I felt an unmistakable twinge. Less than an hour and a half later, Tessa emerged into the world like a little superstar. I did it. We did it together. A little team from the start.