When I first discovered I was pregnant (via a home pregnancy test) I was filled with fear because I’d already had one ectopic pregnancy years before, and knew that it meant that I had a greater chance of having another one. I rushed off to see my gynaecologist, who’d surgically dealt with the previous pregnancy. He performed an ultrasound and we found that the conception was well placed and progressing normally. Superficially I was relieved but still felt that it could not be real. It was very important for me to see a heartbeat and have the doctor declare that all was well in those early months.

By the time I was about 18 weeks pregnant my life took a brand new course. I was now officially going to be a single mother. I had felt my baby kick for the first time and suddenly felt confident about the life growing inside me. The idea of giving birth in a sterile hospital environment no longer seemed appealing. I began talking to some of my friends who gave the names of some midwives who did home and hospital deliveries. I decided to give Eleanor Martin and Liz Harding a call and told them that I was toying with the idea of a ‘different’ birth. They told me to make an appointment and come and meet them.

My first meeting with them blew me away. We talked and laughed as if we’d known each other for ages. They explained that they did homebirths as well as providing the space in a nearby hospital to have an active birth if that was my choice. I immediately said that I wanted to go the homebirth route. Their advice was not to make a decision just then, to wait until I had gone into labour and then see how I felt.

Then Liz palpated my belly with her strong, gentle hands. I remember the look of wonder on her face as she gazed off into the distance, feeling my baby.

“Aww, so sweet!” she said as if she could see my unborn baby.

I was hooked on the midwives.

I went to see them regularly, being examined by each one in turn. Each time I had the overwhelming feeling that I was the ONLY pregnant woman that they were seeing, that my baby was the ONLY one they were going to deliver, and I loved it.

Initially my family were not pleased with my decision to try and have a homebirth, but lots of talking from me and a good meeting between my mother and the midwives settled things.

I had been given 30/4/98 as the due date by the gynaecologist and 02/05/98 by them. I secretly wished that the baby would come on their due date as it was my birthday.

This is me about a week before Simone was born

"This is it", I thought.

It had been 10 minutes between the first wave and the next. I went to the kitchen to make myself some red raspberry leaf tea. My mother woke and came to the kitchen. I don't even know if we spoke. It was just a momentous occasion in my little kitchen. The journey to life and motherhood had begun.

Because the contractions were not that strong we decided to go back to bed and try and get some sleep.

I woke up the next morning and they were gone. I was disappointed but felt happy that I'd experienced them. Now I knew more or less what to expect. We probably spent the day sitting around, maybe going for a walk to pick up some videos, but no more contractions ... until the sun began to set. Suddenly they were back, a little more intense than the previous night and still 10 minutes apart. That night I slept less, with the contractions waking me up.

At one point I slipped off the bed (no mean feat with my belly) and kneeled on the floor holding on to the bed. Somehow that felt much better, so that was the routine that night; lie down, doze off, wake with a contraction, slide off the bed to kneel, hoist myself back up onto the bed, lie down, doze. My mother was amazing through all this and actually managed to get a good night's sleep.

The next day was my birthday. I was really disappointed to discover that the contractions had disappeared like so much mist at dawn. My brother and his fiancee came around for lunch and brought presents. All was fine during the day, but again as the sun set, the contractions came back. They were slightly startled when I first got up and stood against the wall in the middle of our conversation. I explained to them that I was having a contraction (once it was over of course). They were amazed. I think they were expecting something a lot more dramatic.

As the night wore on the contractions became more intense. At bedtime I moved a large low chair into the bedroom, straddled it and tried to sleep. When a contraction hit I would kneel up on the chair. The kneeling felt good.

Sunday came and the labour went away. By Sunday night the contractions were back and even more intense. I was also utterly exhausted from 2 nights with no REM sleep. Finally I relented and let my mother call the midwives (or did I call on her insistence?) Anyway, I had a 'contraption', as I was calling them then, while I was on the phone with Eleanor. She said it sounded pretty intense and that she would come over. She arrived with her entire bag of tricks and examined me. She confirmed that I was in labour but told me that I was 1cm dilated.

I nearly cried. I felt so tired and I'd made almost no progress. She calmly put me to bed and gave me a shot of pethidine to help me sleep. She was convinced that I would dilate with a couple of hours sleep. Within minutes of the injection I was floating. I was aware of every contraction throughout the night, but I really didn't care. It was like they were happening to someone else.

Monday morning arrived and with it both Eleanor and Liz.

It's funny - when I was pregnant I remember thinking that I would want to be massaged and touched through my labour, but when I was in it, I really didn't want to be touched, or even talked to. Liz, Eleanor and my mother respected that. The day dragged and flew as I laboured in the bedroom. I remember coming out of the bedroom and seeing what looked like a tea-party, with my mother and the midwives sitting around the table having lunch. I remember feeling vaguely joyful. My baby was coming and lovely people were having a good time in my house.

At some point I decided that I wanted to have a bath. I came out of the bedroom and saw that my friend Erica was there. I felt incoherent, with the sense that I was watching myself. A part of me told me that I was in transition, while the rest of me pictured myself in limbo-labourland forever. I realised that Betty, the woman who would be my baby's nanny was there. She'd told me in no uncertain terms that she did NOT want to be around when I had the baby: "I don't want to hear your pains." she'd said. I told her it was time for her to go home and then made my way to the bath. I remember being in the bath and wishing I was smaller and the bath was bigger. I desperately wanted to get my whole belly underwater, but that was impossible.

I then remember being back on the bed, on my side with Liz rubbing my back. That was the only time I enjoyed being touched. Soon after they decided to rupture my membrane. Once that happened, labour felt less intense, but like I was achieving more. They examined me again and I was well dilated, except for a 'lip'. Liz decided that she would try and move the lip over baby's head to really get things moving. This had to be done at the height of a contraction and was excruciating. It was the only time in my whole labour that I cried. I swore at Liz in a way I've never done to someone I liked. It would not be the last time I would swear at Liz on that day though.

Suddenly my friend Donne was there and I thought that I should probably tell her to leave, knowing how unimpressed she usually is with babies and things of that ilk.

Then my mother was in the room with Eleanor and they were telling me to push. My mother was behind me and El and Liz were at my feet. I planted my feet on Liz and Ellie's chests and pushed with each contraction. I had no idea that initially the sensation would be so like having a bowel movement, but soon the sensation changed and I could feel my baby moving closer to coming into this world.

It was really hard work, pushing with all the right muscles during the contraction, then relaxing some of them in-between, but still keeping enough 'grip' in other muscles to prevent baby from moving all the way back. Liz examined me and by the look on her face I knew that I was going to need an episiotomy.

She unrolled her bag of 'sharps' and cut. With the next push they told me to put my hand down and feel the head as it crowned. It was so warm and soft and real. I heard the words; "this is it" and pushed one more time and there she was. They handed her to me and I said, in shock; "It's a baby!" I was shocked, not by the fact that her face was squashed or that she was slightly blue, but because she was the warmest, most alive thing I'd ever felt in my whole life. She was so beautiful. I looked at her and knew that she was Simone, my Simone, my daughter, flesh of my flesh, the child I'd waited so long for.

Soon I began to float and lose interest in everything, baby included. I was haemorrhaging. Eleanor took baby to be cleaned up while Liz started stitching the episiotomy. I swore at her again. It seemed to take forever. I faded out at some point and came around fixed up to an IV and a catheter. But all was fine. My baby Simone was in my arms and she had latched on expertly. All would be well, I knew.

Part of me wished I could have had an un-medicated, easy birth, but I looked at my daughter and knew that none of that really mattered. What mattered was that she was here, that we were together. My baby had chosen to come into the world in my house surrounded by friends and my beloved mother and all was well with the world. If you're interested in a homebirth and you're in the Johannesburg region, why not e-mail my midwives, Eleanor Martin at nautin@yebo.co.za or Liz Harding at iharding@icon.co.za