The Birth of Zicada Kraig Kirpalani

In the morning, I woke up and I knew. I soon had the confirmation of bloody show, and I was excited to message our midwife and our doula. Funnily enough, our doula was out of town – due to arrive back that night. I trusted that baby would wait until she was back.   Still, I was surprised to spend the whole weekend in early labour. Birthing my first baby 3 and half years prior, I didn’t experience anything that I would consider early labour: my waters had broken, I had a few gentle and irregular contractions over a few hours, then suddenly I vomited and had many hours of active labour before birthing her.   I assumed that the second time would be similar, and I was really challenged by the slow and subtle flavours of this labour. I tried not to count the minutes between contractions or compare a contraction to the previous one. I knew the importance of letting go of logic to lean into labour.   To support the descent into the birth portal on Saturday, we diffused essential oils, let my birth playlist echo throughout the house, and went on a bush walk as a family. The cicadas were singing, and I felt magically supported the few times I stopped to lean on nearby trees when a contraction arrived. We walked on bush tracks we’d visited dozens of times before, but it felt different knowing that this would be our last time as a family of 4 (me, my partner, our 3 and a half year old, and our dog!).

Throughout the afternoon, my partner inflated the birth pool and made sure I was always well fed, and I reminded him of everything in my “birth basket” — I’d prepared a collection of birth supports (things like a hot water bottle, a clary sage essential oil blend, fairy lights, candles, and ceremonial objects). I spent a lot of time on the birth ball, swaying and even doing some gentle yoga.   Contractions were getting a little bit stronger but were still irregular and far apart. After our eldest went to bed, I spent time in my birth space: the area of our living room where we’d set up the birth pool as well as a birth altar. It felt extra quiet, as if I was approaching the void from which creation springs.

I laid down to sleep, and contractions practically stopped throughout the night. My thoughts tried to make meaning and guess at what would happen next, but I leant on yoga practices to stay in my body and in the moment.   On Sunday morning, November 17th, I was up with the sun. Again: the quiet. I was definitely in the void now. I lost track of time, moving and breathing gently on the birth ball. At some point, our eldest joined me. I swayed, hugged her, gently cried, descended.

Throughout the morning, contractions were becoming strong. I was needing to use sound to ride the waves. Although I was still getting long breaks between contractions, we decided we were ready for our doula to be present. When she arrived, she finished setting up the birth pool and sat with me while my partner cleaned and organized the house.   I spent time labouring in different positions, in different locations throughout the house. It was a warm, sunny day and some of my favourite moments were spent meditating and moaning through contractions on the deck, our eldest close by. Often I found myself crying. I welcomed the emotional release.

Into the afternoon, labour slowly progressed. Although contractions remained strong, they weren’t really increasing in frequency. I was beginning to feel bored of the repetition as well as tired. Our eldest was lulled to sleep by my long, low sounds. I was ready to rest too.   Quietly, I took myself upstairs and tried to get comfortable laying on my side. When a contraction would come, I needed to bring myself up to all fours. I enjoyed moments of stillness and solitude, and then my partner supported me with hip squeezes. Labour continued slowly but steadily, and we decided with our doula that she would leave us to our own devices for some time and that we’d call her back when we were ready.

My partner sat next to me as I tried to rest and find comfort. Within minutes of our doula leaving, something shifted. I couldn’t get comfortable, even between contractions. Then al of a sudden, I felt like I was having double contractions: contractions that peaked in intensity twice, and contractions that led directly into another contraction without pause. I felt agitated; I squirmed; I cried; I told my partner that it was so, so hard.   Soon I was struggling with the intensity. I told him I wanted our doula to come back. As we called her, I sat up on the edge of the bed. Over a few very intense contractions, I was feeling a deep, deep opening that was different than before.   Next, I felt my body starting to push. I also felt that I needed to poo, so off to the toilet it was! Sitting on the toilet, I couldn’t help but push. I reached inside myself and felt baby’s head. My partner had our midwife on the phone; she was on her way and calmly giving us suggestions.

I moved to all fours in front off the toilet, my partner and daughter behind me in our tiny bathroom. I pushed mindfully and patiently with each contraction – as intense as things were, I didn’t feel in any rush. If anything, I wanted to savour each sensation and each moment. I tuned into the feelings of stretching and opening, listening to feedback from my body and baby, welcoming the fire.   Our midwife arrived minutes before baby’s head was born. My partner was poised ready to catch baby. On the final push, our midwife gently guided him into my partner’s hands. My partner immediately slipped baby through my legs and into my arms.

Whoa.   Disbelief and magic. Birth in our own home. A baby boy.   The placenta was born easily and effortlessly. We relocated to the bedroom, the whole family in bed. We took things slowly as a fleeting summer storm boomed and rained down outside. Breastfeeding, marvelling, measuring. We burned and then cut his umbilical cord.

Baby had been born just before 5, and it was surreal to all be tucked into bed a few hours later. I was on a high, and it was hard to sleep.   I’d never before felt so capable and so supported.

~ This beautiful birth story was written by an incredible woman and mum, Emma Parker from Shine Shakti. I have been so privileged to support Emma through two of her pregnancies and births, and when I reached out asking if anyone wanted to share their birth stories she graciously agreed, so here we go! Check out her beautiful offerings if you are interested in pregnancy yoga, mums and bubs yoga and yoga facilitator training, or just general musings about motherhood and the goings on of the world (they’re honestly my favourites!).
Aim xx ~

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