The one phrase you don't want to hear in labour.

The birth of your first child is an amazing thing.

You are just as much apprehensive as you are excited.

Does it really hurt as much as everyone says? Yes. Will everything be okay? Hopefully. Will I poo in labour? Potentially, yes, just get over it already.

If you’re anything like me, you’ll always have a few things you DON’T want to see happening. That said, I’d like to think I was still pretty relaxed about the whole thing though.

Watch: The thoughts you have while you’re giving birth. Post continues after video.

That was right up until I was smack bang go-hung in the great depths of labour and pushing a baby out of my lady parts when I heard this phrase:

“Well, that’s not meant to happen.”

I am in labour with my first child, scared out of my brain and the midwife comes out with “WELL THAT’S NOT MEANT TO HAPPEN!”

Are you kidding me?

Let me set the scene (it’s not pretty just FYI).

My local hospital allows time in a bath during labour but at the time didn’t allow water births. So, I was in a bath (yes stark naked) but the water had been drained once the baby was crowning. My back was KILLING ME so I was on all fours with all the action happening down the end of the bath and my head facing a very bare, hospital white, wall.

So, basically, I couldn’t see anything and the midwife decides it was prime time to not-so-subtly tell me that something was wrong.

Cue freak out here.

natural birth versus caesarean
“Well, that’s not meant to happen.” Image via iStock.

“WHAT’S not meant to happen? (gasp) What are you (moan) talking about? (Groan) What is (Groan) happening?"

Trying to get answers during mid contraction is never an easy thing to do.

Turns out what she was referring to was that instead of his head, my son’s arm and shoulder were the first things to appear.

She was right – that’s NOT meant to happen.

As I was in a bath, I hadn’t had any pain relief. I had one suck on the gas and proceeded to gag and almost threw up, so I gave up on that quickly. If I wanted anything else, I’d have to get up and get out of the bath, which at that point: 1. Wasn’t happening, and 2. It was too late now anyway.

So there I was, the wrong part of the baby protruding out of me (birth is such a miracle isn’t it), no drugs to help me through it and a way-too-honest midwife giving me a detailed account of all the things that were happening that’s weren't meant to be happening. Lucky, I wasn’t one to write a birth plan because that sure as hell wouldn’t have been in it.

My partner was great. He offered to massage me through it and I screamed at him. My back felt like needles were trying to escape from the inside, the last thing I wanted was someone to touch it.

But, I had to get the baby out. Apparently they don’t stay in there forever (despite what my now-forever-bloated middle section seems to believe).

Lisa and her baby. Image supplied.

I’ll spare you the details, because trust me I got a running commentary from this over indulgent midwife who clearly loved her job way too much, but in the end I got the baby out. Sideways. Shoulder and head at the same time.

And what did I get for my trouble -- a third degree tear. Yay me.

Oh, and the baby. Yeah, he was fine. My nether regions on the other hand not so much.

But all’s well that ends well as they say.

I loved it so much, I was pregnant again less than 10 months later. I think the sleep deprivation made me forget the pain.

Ahh, sleep deprivation. It makes you do crazy things. Like have more babies.

But I’ll save that labour story for another time…