Caitlyn’s POV
Thursday, 22nd January
At around 12:30am, I woke up feeling what I thought might be my waters breaking. At first, I honestly assumed I’d peed myself. I tried to hold it in, and obviously you can’t – and that’s when I realised something was different. Try not to panic, be coooool Cait. all my prep has told me to go about your day as normal and not get too worked up. YEAH, you tell that to a FTM.
I got up quietly and thought, okay, don’t wake Jordan yet, let’s just see what this is. I stood in the bathroom and more fluid came. It was trickling down my leg and I couldn’t stop it. It looked different. It felt different.
I called the neonatal unit at Rocky Hospital because I wasn’t having contractions and didn’t know what to do. They told me to call my primary midwife instead. Luckily, she answered. She said it did sound like my waters had broken and that she would send another midwife to come over later that morning to confirm. Amanda, my amazing primary midwife through CMP unfortunately was flying to Melbourne and couldn’t make the birth, she was devooo – but she reassured me I was in good hands with her team.
I finally woke Jordan up and showed him what was happening. He saw it trickle down my leg and immediately said, “Yeahhhhh, that’s definitely not pee.”
We went back to bed for a bit. I say this, but did I go to sleep? Absolutely the fuck not. I can’t say I was stressed, nor was I excited to be honest, I felt a little worried as I was 37 weeks & 3 days, and although that’s ‘term’, I did get in my head a little bit about being ‘early’.
Later that Thursday morning, I started feeling really nauseous. Around 10am, just before the midwife arrived, I had a really bad vom. Proper, awful, full-body vom. Fuck. Nerves? Am I getting sick? Normal part of labour? Who the fuck knows.
The midwife arrived around 10:30am and did a speculum check. She confirmed: yep, my waters had definitely broken. Sick one.
She explained that once waters have been broken for 18 hours, there’s an increased infection risk, which means hospital antibiotics. Alas, I am allegedly allergic to penicillin, however, ask my Dad and he thinks that’s my brother. Anyways. At that point, I started vomiting on and off all day. I couldn’t keep anything down. I was constantly going to the toilet. I was extremely unwell. I cried so goddamn much. More than the whole pregnancy put together. I felt so defeated… This basically meant I couldn’t have the homebirth I had spent 9 months, nay, YEARS yearning and planning for. I know, I know, births don’t go to plan and you can only organise so much, but still. It was a massive mental shift.
That evening, we went into FSH for antibiotics. I vomited again there. It took multiple attempts to get the cannula in because I was so dehydrated. That always sucks. Eventually they got it in.
After a few hours, I went home to sleep. I had barely slept the night before because, obviously, my waters had broken. They wanted me back around 6am (8 hours later) for the next course. Nahhhhh, I needed sleep, that was the priority. Nurses and doctors can’t MAKE you listen to them, it feels weird to go against ‘authority’ in that way, but you really can.
Friday, 23rd January
I managed to get some sleep but woke up still feeling incredibly nauseous and weak, and just sad… I was exhausted, dehydrated, and just trying to survive the hours to be honest. I ended up speaking with my main doula on the phone before heading to hospital to go through possible induction methods, as because labour wasn’t progressing, this was looking like the only option. I mean, SURE, I had totally taken in all the info on induction when she told me about it…. NOT, because it just wasn’t the ‘fairy light’s, sensual, fun, warm’ home birth I wanted… My main doula was in Japan (no main midwife, no main doula make Cait go something something) – but anyways, I had an amazing backup Doula Michelle who had come over the Sunday prior for OMP bodywork and an amazing pregnancy massage. Made me cry in the BEST way telling me to envision seeing my baby’s face for the first time and pulling him up to my chest… something that did indeed come to fruition how I imagined anyways, just a different location. I obviously was in touch with Michelle at this point and she went ‘on-call’ for the birth.
I returned to hospital around 10am (I was technically meant to be there at 6am. They gave me IV fluids because I was so sick).
The midwife wanted to put me on a CTG monitor. I said no. “BuT iT’s oUr pOLicyyyyy”. Okay cool, whatever. Sounds like a YOU problem, FSH.
I explained that if something slightly “abnormal” showed up on CTG, it could easily be used to push more interventions. Instead, I agreed to Doppler checks, bloods, and an ultrasound to check baby’s fluid levels. Everything came back completely fine – baby’s heart rate, my heart rate, bloods, fluids – all good. I didn’t want them to have a “reason” to keep me for induction that day.
The OB came in strongly recommending induction several times because of infection risks. I understood the risks. But I also knew that if I was induced while that unwell, it would spiral. I said I wanted more time. She said I couldn’t leave because I already had a cannula in. “Really?” she questioned when I said, yeah, you can just take it out and chuck another one in later. No pain, no gain. I felt pretty proud of myself at that moment.
Throughout the day, multiple midwives and doctors came back and forth explaining risks and suggesting induction.
Instead of returning again that night for antibiotics like the good girl I am, I went to my parents’ house. I needed real sleep. Jordan fed me, hydrated me, looked after me.
Emotionally, this was the hardest part.
Once your waters have been broken over 24 hours, you’re disqualified from a home birth. That was our plan for so long. And suddenly it was gone.
My brain flipped from empowered, prepared, confident to : I can’t do this. I won’t be able to do this. I’ve failed myself. I’ve failed him, my baby. This is all going to go wrong.
I cried a lot.
What helped was still having autonomy. Saying no where I could. Declining CTG. Declining immediate induction. Making my own decisions.
That night I slept seven solid hours, which changed everything. I did have a stress response – uncontrollable jittering and shivering I couldn’t control. It felt like fear and adrenaline pouring out of me. Fear of what was coming. Fear I wouldn’t be well enough to give birth.
(Doula’s notes: Home to Cait’s mum’s to rest. Discussed various options pending examination tomorrow etc… and chatted through a gentle induction process. Also talked about consent, non-consent and policy/procedure is not the law. Asking for time.)
Saturday, 25th January – Induction Day
By the morning, it had been over 48 hours since my waters broke. Still no contractions. I accepted that induction was now the safest option. I spoke with my doula, Michelle, who talked through everything. Because of infection risk, my only option was a syntocinon drip – synthetic oxytocin through IV.
We went back to FSH around 9:30am.
We didn’t get moved to the Family Birth Unit until around 5:30pm. So Jordan and I spent the day walking around the hospital, going outside and touching grass, doing side lunges and squats, bouncing on the fitball, nipple stimulation, hugging and swaying, dancing a little, jokin’ around, listening to binaural beats, eating beef jerky, nasi goreng, lollies, drinking Gatorade, water, tea. We didn’t get moved to the Family Birth Unit until around 5:30pm. So Jordan and I spent the day walking around the hospital, going outside and touching grass, doing side lunges and squats, bouncing on the fitball, nipple stimulation, hugging and swaying, dancing a little, jokin’ around, listening to binaural beats, eating beef jerky, nasi goreng, lollies, drinking Gatorade, water, tea.
Jordan was so positive the whole time. He always is, my calm angel. A great partner is so integral to a positive birth experience too, especially being someone more prone to anxiety and anxious in medical settings.
When we were taken into the birth room around 5:30pm, my stress response flared again. The hospital bed. The stirrups. The setup. It wasn’t what I’d prepared for.
Michelle came and did acupressure and optimal positioning. Jordan and her set up fairy lights and affirmations. We dimmed the lights. Michelle had the sickest galaxy light projected on the ceiling too. She rubbed essential oils on me.
Around 6:30–7pm, they checked me. Michelle gave me a labour ball to squeeze, as this feels uncomfortable as shiiiitttt. She also held my hand and explained things to me, because although I understood the things the midwives were saying, my brain was also tapping out. She really was that strong, maternal, warm, strong advocate I needed, god I am so thankful for her presence.
I wasn’t dilated at all. Completely unfavourable cervix. Cool. They started the synto drip.
I had some hospital dinner (which was crap – Jordan finished it). I put an eye mask on. Played my “Darling Bubby Boy” playlist. Put a pillow between my legs. Cuddled my breastfeeding pillow. Went inward, chilled out.
(Doula’s notes: Discussed options based on Vaginal Examination which stated cervix was “unfavourable”. Posterior. Midwife stated she would be unable to access any remainder waters as may damage Cait’s cervix.)
Early Labour
Contractions started like mild period cramps. We set up the TENS machine around 9pm. I wanted it early so I could build with it.
I coped/managed by (with so much guidance and support from Jordan):
- Counting like the count from Sesame Street: “One, ha ha ha ha… two, ha ha ha…”
- Visualising numbers in colours
- Imagining pushing a ship across the ocean while breathing out
- Squeezing my birth comb constantly
- Using a fit ball to bounce on
- Horse breathing
- Chatting with midwives when contractions weren’t too bad (though I really didn’t like the shift changes, that’s shit. Continuity of care is where it’s at. I had the CUTEST angel midwife from around 9pm, though, absolute cutie
- At one point I mocked my uterus and said: “Ha ha, you’re hurting but you’re bringing me my baby, LOSER.”
Then I felt bad and thought, no, my uterus needs support. So I started saying: “This is healthy pain bringing me my baby. Thank you”
CTG monitoring was incredibly annoying. Every time I moved it would lose the baby’s heart rate. It restricted movement. They always have to check it. Like, get offffff me.
Going to the toilet during contractions was awful. The pressure made it worse. It felt wrong and uncomfortable.
(Doula’s notes: unsure details whilst gone, except you were “labouring like a champ” Pethadine injection, midwife said last VE was 2 cm, favourable, effaced.)
“labouring like a champ” makes me emotional now. I didn’t feel that strength in those moments.
Around 12:30–1:00am
They checked me. Only about 3cm.
The midwife kindly documented it as “3–4cm” so pain relief options stayed open.
Contractions intensified rapidly. Induction contractions are next level. They started barrelling. So no break in between… not a vibe, my breathing shallowed and wasn’t as grounded. Jordan expressed (only after of course) this is when he began to worry for me.
We tried the gas on the lowest level. It did nothing. I got annoyed and said get rid of it.
A little later I had morphine. It stung so badly going in. I thought it would take away the pain.
It didn’t.
I remember saying, “When is this fucking kicking in?”
I hit a wall. “I can’t do this.” “This is too intense”. “I need more.” “I might need an epidural.”
(Doula’s notes: Michelle back in at 1.45am. Contracting 4:10.)
When Michelle arrived, she gently suggested removing the TENS machine and getting into the shower. I was scared to remove it. Jord also mentioned that when Michelle arrived, apparently I put on a bit of a mask, like nahhhhh this pain is totally fine. I totally haven’t been asking for the epidural, haha. That’s a classic Cait cope though, to play-down how I’m actually feeling.
The water helped, shock and horror. I was on all fours. Leaning forward. Water on my back.
(Doula’s notes: 3am – shower which worked well. Telemetry monitor losing connection with bub.)
Then the contractions just ramped up more. No breaks. Just constant pain.
It wasn’t like period pain. It wasn’t like endo pain. It was breathless, relentless, extreme. There was no space between waves to recover.
I tried affirmations: “Open.” “Bring my baby down.” I remember feeling angry too, like strength masked as anger or something. A defiance. But without breaks, it was hard to reset.
Around 3:30/4:00am
Because CTG kept losing baby’s heart rate, I had to choose: get out of the water or have a fetal scalp electrode. Bastards.
I really didn’t want the scalp electrode. It was a hard-no when I made my birth plan. Like, yeah I’d love to put a little screw in my baby’s head… But, I knew I could NOT get out of that shower. Really, it worked a damn treat. With Michelle and Jordan alternating massaging my back, squeezing my hips and using the shower head to massage.
I agreed to the FSE. They checked me again. Only about 4cm. How?
(Doula’s notes: Cait tried different positions on bed, all fours, throne, birth ball leaning onto bed.)
4:45am, Everything Changes
Suddenly I felt intense pressure in my bum when in the shower. Deep. Uncontrollable. I was bearing down.“I’m pushing.” “I can feel him in my bum.” Guttural as all hell. Not a bad feeling though, just intense. You want relief.
The midwife was a little concerned. They thought maybe baby was in a bad position because I’d only been 4cm not long before.
(Doula’s notes: Cait said still contractions doubling up – and felt pressure in her bottom and urge to push. Transition (hindsight).
They got me onto the bed. Getting onto that bed was a hellscape. The pressure was relentless.
They checked me.
Then I heard laughter.
“Yep. Baby’s coming.”
The gas was brought back into the equation. They turned the gas right up.
I laughed and said, “I fucking told you. Let’s rock ’n’ rollllllll.” – Very on brand for me.
(Doula’s notes: “HELLO – we had a baby ready to come earthside stat!”)
Even at that intensity, I slowed my breathing down – “Ahhhhhhhhh…” So he wouldn’t fly out too fast. I don’t recall the intensity of crowning, I think it was a welcome change from the contractions.
I could hear my midwife laugh and say, “You’re doing this like a pro.”
Within two contractions, he basically flew out. A full fetal ejection reflex. I loved the feeling of him crowning and coming out. Yes it was quick, but I remember it feeling good, and I was in control, I was feeling and listening to my body to get him out safely.
At 5:06am, Sunday, 25th January, he was born.
I reached down and pulled him up. The cord was short so he stayed on my tummy.
I looked at Jordan.
His face, man, Jordan’s face… awe, pride, emotional, otherworldly… Seeing his face, when holding my baby, was the the best moment of my life.
I kept saying, through laughs and happy tears, “I did it.” “I got us our baby.” “Can you believe it?” Laughter. Shock. Disbelief. Relief. To go from SUCH intensity, to him just being here? Wild. Magical.
He was perfect.
2.9kg.
37 weeks + 6 days.
He cried a little.
They clamped the cord after about a minute (hospital policy). Jordan cut the cord.
They opened my placenta next to me and showed me everything. I took it home. It’s on ice. In the freezer right now, haha.
They gave me the synto/potocin? injection in my leg to deliver the placenta because of induction protocols. The relief when the placenta came out was incredible. Little alien blob.
After
One of the worst parts was the tear check. Internal. Perineum. Even checking my bum. They gave me gas. I joked, “Can you at least put some lube on?” I think I went on to make some inappropriate anal jokes… let’s blame the gas.
I had a second-degree tear. I chose not to have stitches. Jordan was having skin-to-skin during this time.
(Doula’s notes: Cait peri check (labial bruising and 2nd degree).
It’s funny, when they brought bubby back to me, I didn’t say this at the time, but I thought “who are you?” and genuinely felt unsure… and then they got him on my boob and he latched… the only way to explain that connection is like in Avatar when the blue guys attach to their flying horse things… instant fiery, strong, unbreakable bond.
Michelle said it was rare for someone to go through induction without pain relief like an epidural. At first I thought she was just saying it to amp me up during contractions, but when she said it again after he was there, I believed her. That made me feel so good.
They wrapped bubby up after he fed and they expressed colostrum and I had a wonderful post-birth shower with Michelle helping me. She also got me bone-broth and the best goddamn hospital sandwiches of my LIFE.
Leaving
Six hours later, we were discharged.
They wanted to keep us for observation. We declined. No thanks. Like, why?
All our obs were fine.
We drove home like it was a normal Sunday.
Surreal.
Postpartum
Bleeding is like day 1–2 of a period.
Milk coming in.
I love my little tummy. But I miss my pregnant tummy.
My baby is beautiful and smells amazing.
Jordan feeding me. Hydrating me. Absolute champion.
Watching him become a dad feels natural and right.
It wasn’t the birth I planned.
But I kept my autonomy. I avoided unnecessary intervention.I had a powerful vaginal birth.
And I proved to myself: I can do reallllyyyyyyyyyy fucking hard things.
And I did. 🤍
Disclaimer – cord was clamped once they agreed to it because it had turned white and stopped pulsating. The birth was in the Birth Suite at Fiona Stanley Hospital, not the Birthing Unit.
Even as a backup doula, she showed up like she had been walking this entire journey with me from day one.
Michelle was strong but soft. Maternal but empowering. Grounded but warm. She didn’t take over – she anchored.
– Caitlyn and Jordan
Contact Michelle
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About Michelle McKechnie
My name is Michelle McKechnie, and I am Birth and Postpartum Doula specialising in postpartum support, breastfeeding and sleep support. My greatest achievements are my 5 incredible children and 4 beautiful grandchildren. They are and will always be my greatest teachers.
