friendship

The delivery room resembled a party.

And that was not my intention.

Like any first time mother-to-be with good intentions, I had a loose idea of what my birth plan might resemble.

I had actually convinced myself I would have a serene water-birth accompanied by a midwife and support person. Just like the handy YouTube videos of calm and controlled water-births with two maybe three people MAXIMUM, there to witness the arrival of the baby.

Exactly the same.

On the day of the delivery my only plan was to get the child out of the vagina. That was the immediate pressing issue.

"I had a birth plan. And then I threw it out the window on the day."

Before I knew that though, I had carefully considered who I wanted in the room with me. The baby's dad was out of the question as we were no longer in a relationship.

So, I dabbled with the idea of just having my mum. Then I thought perhaps just my best friend. They seemed like perfectly acceptable sound choices. As the due date loomed I seriously contemplated just myself and the midwife - how very naïve of me.

But, what transpired in that delivery room on that day is best described as an all inclusive life experience. Think cocktail party with a far less flattering dress code.

No less than ten humans were in attendance when my daughter burst into the world.

Yes my friends, ten.

I was there. My mother and not one but two of my closest friends were also there.

The midwife was front row. And the paternal grandmother was also present.

My dad was there and two, yes, two assisting midwives were also in the room.

And just when you might have thought the population spike had reached it’s peak in strolled the obstetrician who popped his head in to check on how things were ‘progressing’. His words were something to the effect of, "It looks like there’s enough people in here, I'll head out".

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Top idea.

"It took a village to bring my daughter into the world."

I know I know. What was I thinking right? I didn’t even bat an eyelid at the time. Remember: baby out of vagina was my only line of thought.

Anyone who has endured a lengthy labour will agree, a brass band could march on in and it simply would not be the main concern.

Now I know this may seem odd. However, the stories we have shared reliving that torturous wondrous event in my life are special. Everyone in that room on that day are eternally grateful to have had the opportunity to share in the experience of welcoming OUR baby into the world.

In fact, I didn’t even really think it was anything weird at all until I relayed the story and people were horrified. The biggest shock for people is the fact my dad was there. Obviously, he was not perched at the graphic end. He was gently holding my head in his hands and he was the one who cut the umbilical cord.

That’s special for us, not weird at all.

My daughter is a little social butterfly. She loves being around people. I often wonder if the circumstances of her birth have had any influence on her love of a good crowd and a party like atmosphere.

I never intended to have a congregation on that day, but I sure am glad each and every one of them were there. We call her the village kid, it takes a village to raise a child and her birth was absolutely no exception.

How many people shared in your child’s birth?

Want more? Try:

What happens when you have an unassisted home birth.

We’re calling it… best birth announcement ever.

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