My First Birth Story 

When I found out I was pregnant with my first child, I cried. It was part happiness and part the sudden reality of being responsible for another human being. 

The pregnancy itself was smooth — I know I was one of the lucky ones. Hearing the heartbeat for the first time and seeing that tiny scan picture on screen was incredible. Even better, my best friend was pregnant at the same time (she even stole my due date!), so we went through the journey together. 

Despite all the advice and support, I was still anxious about giving birth. Every little twinge in the final weeks had me convinced “this is it.” One night, it really was. I went to the hospital, only to be sent home as I wasn’t dilated enough. The next day I returned, ready to finally meet my baby. 

Twenty-four hours later, with the help of pethidine and plenty of encouragement, I gave birth naturally to my son — the most precious gift I could have ever imagined. 

My Second Birth Story 

My second pregnancy and birth were very different. I was unable to eat and was admitted to hospital, as doctors were concerned that the umbilical cord could wrap around my baby’s neck if I went home. 

This time, everything was more structured. I was told exactly when my son would be born, and I felt surprisingly calm. My midwife was once again amazing. I walked around with the gas and air, feeling relaxed — even asking if I could sleep between contractions (though they wouldn’t let me!). 

Compared to my first, this was such a smooth and positive experience. It was everything I could have wished for. 

My Third Birth Story 

By the time I was expecting my third child, I had learned to really listen to my body. I waited until the very last minute to go to hospital, knowing I would recognise when it was truly time. 

At home, I stayed in the bath for as long as I could, breathing through contractions as they grew stronger. When I finally went to hospital, I remember lying in the bed with the same song playing on repeat — and then suddenly, my son was there. 

The only similarity with my other two births was that, once again, my waters had to be broken for me. But each experience taught me something new. 

No matter how different they were, each birth ended the same way: with my baby placed skin-to-skin on my chest. In that moment, all pain and anxiety disappeared. It was just me, my child, and the overwhelming love that never fades — even when they grow up and start answering back!