The baby was due on 7 October, but I wasn't expecting it for a few days. I felt really well (not like the immobilising sciatica I'd had those last 2, overdue weeks with Tilda), so I was happy that week. I tidied the house a lot, took the girls swimming twice, and walked about as much as I could. I was losing mucus slowly but steadily all week, and having 'twinges' from Thursday or so, and Saturday brought a bloody show.

At 3.15 am on the Sunday, Poppy woke up to go to the toilet. I put her back to bed, and when I went back to my bed, I had A PAIN - more than the twinges I'd been having. Thinking that this seemed like the real thing, I went back to sleep. I semi-awoke for another 4 or 5 contractions, but by about 4.20 am, the adrenalin was kicking in too, and I had to get up. Went downstairs, put the dishwasher on (it was full of dirty mugs, and I was having visions of lots of cups of tea later!), tidied up the construction toys that were all over my 'birth mat' (we still don't have a dining table, so I had put some old carpet I found in the loft in that space, and had put a couple of lamps on the floor), moved a little table for the midwife, and got my favourite big black swivel chair into position. Also wandered aimlessly around the house a lot.

At about 5.30 am I thought I should wake Chris up, but when I did, I felt strangely shy of telling him what was going on. I was like "Erm, I think you should get up now." "Why?" <Silly grin> "I think this baby might be coming" when I knew full well that this was IT, and why else would I wake him in the middle of the night? We thought the girls might sleep till about 9 since they'd been quite late to bed the night before, and we were wondering whether it might all be over in the next 3 1/2 hours. I thought it could well be, Chris didn't seem convinced!

So he got up, and put on his football shirt and I put on my lucky birth shirt - a pink stripy pyjama top that must be about 16 years old, and we wandered aimlessly some more. Oh, and Chris shaved his hair. (Bit of a tradition - not that we're vain or anything - I washed my hair whilst in labour with Poppy because I didn't want to feel yucky in the morning, and Chris also felt the need to cut his hair before Tilda arrived, so he opened the door to the midwife with one side of his head shaved and the other not!) We thought we'd phone my mum at about 8 am if Poppy and Tilda hadn't woken yet, so she could be there by the time they did get up.

By about 6 am, I was having to stop and concentrate through the contractions, and Chris was pressing on my lower back during them, which was nice, although it took me a little while to figure out what felt best. He started timing them, but they were still a bit erratic: one long one, then a gap, then two short ones close to each other, etc, but by half past they were coming about every 4 minutes on average. I think he phoned the labour number at about 6.50 am, and the midwife phoned back soon after 7. I had checked myself a couple of times already, and when I felt again now, I thought I was 5-6 cm dilated, which seemed good to me.

The contractions were getting much stronger now. I was moving about a lot - a position would be good for a couple of contractions, but then I would have to change. I was basically alternating between kneeling or standing, whilst leaning forward. All this moving around was quite new to me; with the other two, I had found good positions and pretty much stayed there. I was finding it quite hard to relax as well, and I didn't really want Chris touching me. Afterwards he said that he thought that I didn't need him as much as I had in my previous labours, and that he'd thought I was coping with it all really well, but actually it was harder, and I was having to concentrate so much on myself, that I didn't have any mental energy left over to think about what I'd like him to do. But this worked out for the best for the next bit anyway ...

By about 20 to 8 I was starting to feel pressure during contractions, and I knew that soon I would be wanting to push, and I said to Chris that I hoped the midwife arrived soon. Very soon after that we heard a car, but as Chris went to open the door, Poppy appeared at the top of the stairs. So he collected her, carried her down to get the phone - she was averting her face from me, saying that she didn't want to watch, but she let me give her a kiss - opened the door to the midwife, and went back upstairs to phone my mum. Tilda woke up a couple of minutes later.

The first thing I remember the midwife saying was "Where are the towels and the cot?" Towels, yep, OK, here they are, but a cot? It's in pieces in the loft! She checked the heartbeat - that was her first and last chance to do that! - and when I told her I thought I was getting near, she did a quick internal and said I was about 8 cm. She asked about Vitamin K and syntometrine, and I told her I wanted oral vit K, and didn't want the synto, and she was fine about that, and called the second midwife to ask her to come now. Meanwhile Chris was running up and down stairs between me and the girls, whilst he got them settled watching a film. He was worried about me, but I was managing OK through some strong contractions, and I was more worried about him getting stressed by it all! (Which he wasn't.) Luckily it was Sunday, so there wasn't much traffic, and my mum arrived by 8 am.

Now I had Chris back, and I knew it was time for this baby to come out. I wasn't pushing with contractions - just breathing and moaning. This was partly a conscious decision I had made prior to labour because I wanted to let my body do it - and I could feel the head moving, so I knew the baby would get out soon enough - and because I knew he was going to be big, and I didn't want to tear, but to be honest, it was mainly because it was taking quite enough effort just to cope with the strength of the expelling contractions, and I really couldn't push as well. The midwife was telling me now that I could push if I felt like it (Yes, I know, thank you), and then started telling me not to make a noise, but to hold my breath and push - which I didn't think was very good advice, and I didn't take it. I could feel him moving down, and then I felt him crown. It felt like I could feel his head pushing against the bones of my pelvis, and I did wonder then if he would get out - a brief image of an episiotomy and forceps flashed through my mind, and didn't seem that bad, if it meant he would be born without any further pain or effort on my part!

At this point I was kneeling on a cushion, leaning onto a cushion on Chris's lap (he was sitting on the black chair), and hanging onto him. The midwife asked me if she could break my waters, and I agreed, thinking it would help the baby come out. The first fluid out was slightly discoloured by meconium, so now she wanted, and I agreed, that this baby should be born. With the next contraction I got into a squat, held firmly onto Chris (apparently, where I thought I was just holding his shirt on either side, I'd actually grabbed hold of his body too!) and PUSHED, with my head against Chris's chest. There was a lull in the middle of the contraction, but his head was emerging, and when I pushed again, standing up as I did so, there it was. I put my hand down, and held his head, and felt it turn in my hand, and then the final contraction came. As I pushed hard again, his shoulders squeezed out, and then the rest of him. The midwife caught him, and laid him on the cushion between my feet, and Chris and I looked down together and said "It's a boy!" It was 8.19 am as I stooped and picked up this crying, lilac BOY.

Meanwhile the midwife very rapidly cleaned up most of the blood. Because I'd stood up whilst he was being born, it had splashed *everywhere* - there is still a mark on the wall 4 feet away that no one has bothered cleaning yet - but she only estimated the actual blood loss at 150 ml. I was peeling bits of membrane off me and the baby, and managed to turn round and sit back down on my cushion and lean against Chris. The second midwife arrived about this time. Now I was exhausted, and when the midwife clamped the cord, got Chris to cut it, and started doing controlled cord traction, I wasn't with it enough to argue. I did say "I don't like that", but by then I could feel that the placenta was already coming out. The placenta was delivered about 6 minutes after Elijah was, which was my quickest third stage yet, even without the synto. I am still (27 Oct) feeling a bit hard done by about that bit, but it was also partly my fault for not having been clear about what I wanted earlier.

She cleaned me up, and checked me - a slight graze - and I finally got sat comfortably on a chair. Elijah was still crying: he cried for about half an hour after he was born, which surprised me, as both my girls had been latched on by the time the placenta was delivered. Poppy and Matilda came down, bringing toys, and were suitably impressed! Neither of them were bothered by the blood on him, or mine and Chris's clothes.

The midwife left at about 10 am, and I finally got back into bed - completely knackered. This labour had been my quickest, and my hardest, and I was really wiped out for a few days. Fortunately the graze didn't bother me at all, and breastfeeding, although not completely straightforward, was soon well established. The same midwife came back that afternoon, and asked about the cot again! When I told her he'd be sleeping with us for a while, she wasn't very impressed, but mentioned the duvet and pillows as a couple of safety issues, and then - very graciously <g> - said "Well, it's your third baby, I can't tell you not to have him in your bed" !

Since then, he has been very calm and a bit sleepy - a bit too sleepy maybe, as it took him until 13 days to regain his birth weight - longer than the girls. His sisters still seem very happy to have him, although Tilda is a bit disappointed that there is no longer a baby in my tummy whose heartbeat she can check! Life is starting to settle down again for this family of 5.

 - Alison