My Firstborns Positive Hospital Birth Story- Jarra

My Care Team

At 22, I didn’t know much about birth. I lived near Newcastle and was pretty naïve. My mum had two straightforward births in midwife-led care, and one traumatic hospital birth. I tried to get into the midwifery group program like her, but missed out.

I looked young and felt I was being treated like I was irresponsible. When I sought medical support for my nausea, I was told, “Well, you chose to get pregnant, did you expect it to be easy?” It pushed me to build a support team and start advocating for myself. I found a doula pilot program at the Newcastle Birth Movement — a collective of four doulas. They ran hypnobirthing classes, birth story circles, yoga, massage, even home birth film nights. Those spaces helped me feel like birth was mine. That I was powerful and capable. That I belonged.

Labour Begins- 7am

Labour started at home. I called my partner back from work, heart pounding — I knew I was about to do something massive and unforgettable. We moved between rooms — heat pack, shower, swaying, vocalising. It was intense, but I felt powerful. After about 6 hours of labour at home and now back-to-back vocal contractions, I said “Okay, I’m ready. Call the doula.” She arrived to find me roaring and vomiting and said, “Do you feel like birthing here? Or we could get going now because you’re labouring beautifully.” We loaded into the open back of my step-mum’s van with blankets and pillows. The drive was awful. It felt claustrophobic and I was asked to give directions mid-contraction, trying not to drop out of my labouring body.

Arrival at the Hospital- 2pm

At the hospital, I yelled, “Stop at the front door!” but people were yelling at us to move on. I kicked the back door until someone opened it, dropped to all fours on the pavement, roaring. People backed off. I walked a few steps and dropped again. A nurse tried to talk to me mid-contraction. I pushed her hand away. That was my first moment of advocacy inside the system. And I felt proud. My partner wheeled me to maternity. My doula had set up the space, lights low. I asked for a check, convinced I wasn’t far along. When the midwife said “Six centimetres,” I was so proud. I’d done that myself.

The Work of Labour

The shower was amazing. I knelt, forehead to tiles, pushing away the padding the midwife was trying to slide under my head. When I had a bloody show, a midwife said, “Oh, only just now?” I replied, “No, don’t say only. This is big for me.” She said sorry. And I was so proud of myself.

Transition- 6.30pm

During transition I panicked: “If this goes on for hours, I’ll need gas.” My doula placed my hands on my belly and said, “Remember who you’re doing this with.” I felt baby move. That dropped me back in. I moved to the birth ball and I felt strong there. Then I started to push and chose to get in the birth pool. It gave me privacy. I reached down and felt his head moving with each surge.

Crowning & Arrival- 8pm

At one point I looked up — six people with torches were watching, but I hadn’t noticed. The room was dark, quiet. fairy lights. Music. My partner beside me. My doula holding space. No one touched me. No one took control. In a big tertiary hospital — I got to do it myself. I held his head in my hands before he was born, stroking his hair. Then he was in my arms. I was shaking, crying, overwhelmed with love.

First Moments

He was quiet. “Is he okay?” I asked. The midwife said, “Give him a pat.” He didn’t move — until he did a huge meconium poo all over me and the bath. That woke him up. He cried. I pulled him close. The placenta came out with a splash. My partner held him while I got cleaned up. Then we watched him crawl to the breast. That first latch. I felt like I didn’t know him, but I knew him so well and it was just butterflies.

The Afterglow

An hour later, I said to the doctor, “I know I’ve torn — just be honest.” She checked: “Only a graze.” I laughed. I couldn’t believe it. We stayed the night. COVID meant my partner couldn’t stay so it was just me and bub. And I couldn’t stop staring and thinking omg I’m actually a good birthing woman and he is my baby that I made. That birth gave me the most beautiful postpartum. I felt proud and capable.