"My birth"

At my 40-week check-in, I felt calm, grounded, and genuinely excited to see my little bubba. Baby was happily kicking away in my belly, showing no signs of distress, and I felt deeply content and at peace. Everything about my body and my baby felt well.

After a bedside scan, I was told my amniotic fluid measured just 0.1 ml below the hospital guideline cut-off of 4.9 ml instead of 5 ml. Despite there being no clinical concerns for either myself or my baby, I was devastated at the thought that this single number might change my entire birth plan. The idea of being moved to the main hospital, losing access to the birth suite and the water as my chosen form of pain relief, felt incredibly distressing.

As a clinician myself, I understand monitoring and numbers. I also understand how distressing they can be when applied without individualised context. I knew I did not want continuous monitoring. I trusted my body, my baby, and my ability to tune in internally to mu baby's cues, supported by intermittent monitoring. Being moved to the main hospital felt like a disservice to both of us, especially knowing that access to a water birth there was extremely limited.

I was heartbroken. Hours later, I found myself crying on a hospital bed, overwhelmed and exhausted, after being told again that because my fluid was measured at 4.9 ml, just 0.1 ml under the guideline. I would need to birth in the main hospital. This was, I understand, despite credible research supporting a leeway of up to 2 ml and the absence of any signs of compromise.

In that moment, my midwife became my anchor.

She answered my call immediately and stepped into her role as my advocate without hesitation. She spoke the words I couldn’t find, held the space when I felt powerless, and fought tirelessly to honour my choices. The following morning, when I went into labour, she was running from doctor to doctor, escalating and advocating fiercely for the birth I had prepared for and trusted my body to achieve at the FBC.

There was no voice I wanted to hear more than her when I called the hospital. Her calm, reassurance, and unwavering belief in me meant everything. Because of hospital policy, I was ultimately placed in the main hospital as the doctors wouldn’t allow me to birth at the FBC. I believe it should’ve never come to that. I was well. My baby was well. There were no signs of distress or risk.

Through my midwife’s persistence and dedication, I was incredibly fortunate to be given my own room with access to a bath. What followed was nothing short of magical. My water birth was peaceful, powerful, and exactly what I had hoped for. My baby showed no issues at all, and in fact, my waters didn’t break until 9 cm. I was able to visibly see the amniotic fluid disperse at the time. A powerful confirmation to me that my body and my baby had been perfectly well all along.

While it was frustrating the day before my birth to have spent hours waiting on a hospital bed, hungry, upset, exhausted, and missing the rest I would normally rely on before labour, I remain overwhelmingly grateful. Grateful for my midwife, and for the midwives who saw me — not a number, not a statistic, but a whole person with individual needs, knowledge, and intuition.

My midwife ensured my birth was honoured when I could not advocate for myself. She protected my choices, my wellbeing, and my birth space with extraordinary skill and compassion. She did not just support my labour — she upheld my autonomy at a time when it mattered most.

I will forever be thankful for her dedication, strength, and humanity. She is an exceptional midwife, and because of her, I was able to have the birth I trusted my body to achieve.