Home or hospital?

‘I had my first son in hospital and had a fairly easy four hour delivery, but I didn’t feel the room was very comforting, and I didn’t have a midwife that I knew. So, with son number two, I had a midwife who was attached to my doctor’s surgery and had a domino scheme. The midwife came to my house and assessed me. She waited with me, while I had a bath. We then we went to the hospital, to a lovely room with its own bath, and she delivered the baby there. It was private enough to feel homely, but was also part of the hospital, in case of complications. I left six hours later, never having gone onto a ward. Baby number three, I had at home. It was lovely. The midwife was really supportive throughout, and I eventually had my daughter with the recommended two midwives, my mum, my sister, my sister in law and my husband, all in the room with me. Beth didn’t take a breath when she was born, and the midwives stayed completely calm and phoned the emergency services, who were there with oxygen within the three minutes. By this time she was breathing on her own, and no one had panicked. It turned out she has cystic fibrosis so she will be our last baby, and I am so grateful that I had the opportunity to have her at home – it remains one of my best memories.’

Here’s the twist in this tale

‘This is about my own birth 30+ years ago. My mother had my brother in hospital (as you did in those days, without the husband present), and was going to have a home birth when I was due. My gran was living with us, which was a comfort to my mum. But we weren’t on the phone, and the nearest phone box was five minutes away. When my mum went into labour, my dad duly went off to ring, only to be told by the midwife that my mum was just being silly – the baby wasn’t due for another month, so it couldn’t possibly be coming. A few hours later he rang again, only to be told the same thing. Again, when my mum wanted to push, he rang the midwife, who wasn’t very happy to be woken again, but said she would come out just to reassure my mum that she wasn’t really in labour.

When the midwife arrived she realised my mum was right. She panicked, telling my dad that the baby should have been born an hour ago. When she got hysterical, my gran slapped her round the face and told her to sit down and shut up, if she couldn’t do anything practical. As my dad had been doing St John’s Ambulance work, he delivered me himself. The midwife got to cut the cord. As I’d taken so long arriving, because my mother hadn’t wanted to push, I came into the world in a hurry and ripped my mum, leaving her with lots of internal and external stitches. The doctor came out to my mum the next day and assured her that the midwife was going to be struck off.’