The Birth Of Remi

Remi was a huge surprise. She’s only 17 months younger than her brother Arlo, so when I found out I was pregnant, it was a massive shock. Honestly, we were devastated at first. We had just started finding our rhythm with Arlo, and suddenly the idea of having two so close together felt overwhelming. We knew we needed to process it and get our heads around this unexpected journey.

I remember feeling super tired, sleeping a lot, but not really connecting the dots. About a week later I took a test, and when I showed my fiancé at the time, his face was a mix of surprise and concern. I burst into tears, thinking he was completely unhappy. That moment was really emotional for both of us, but with time we came together and worked through it.

This time around, we knew we wanted something more holistic than Arlo’s birth, which had been at our local public hospital. While his birth went fairly smoothly, reflecting back I realised there were things I wanted done differently.

We looked into hiring a private midwife, but it was just too expensive. I applied really early for the MGP (Midwifery Group Practice) program, and at first I didn’t get in. I called and asked if they’d reconsider, and I also put “home birth” as our number one choice. Somehow the stars aligned, and we were accepted.

Having continuity of care was incredible. Meeting the same midwife each week, being seen at home, and building that relationship gave me such peace of mind. Still, there were challenges - being in the public system meant there were rules. To qualify for home birth, you had to be low-risk and go into labour not later than 41 weeks. That date sat in the back of my mind the whole pregnancy.

Physically, pregnancy with Remi was tough. From the second trimester I struggled to walk, which made chasing a toddler exhausting. I had a lot of mum guilt, worrying how Arlo would cope. In some ways, I had to make him more independent before Remi even arrived. Emotionally, I also found it harder to connect with Remi during pregnancy. She was such a surprise that I worried whether I’d be able to love her as much as I loved Arlo. That thought stayed with me, even though deep down I knew the love would come.

We did another Calm Birth refresher (we’d done one with Arlo’s birth too). I practised meditation, positive affirmations, and spinning babies techniques when I could.

Honestly though, I didn’t feel as prepared or as deeply connected this time. Pregnancy was harder, I was exhausted, and I was carrying guilt about Arlo. But the affirmations, meditations, and the idea of home birth gave me reassurance when my head felt full of doubts.

With Arlo, I went into labour at 39+2, so I expected the same with Remi, which turned out to be a mistake. This time I went right up to 41 weeks on the dot, the very last day I could still qualify for a home birth. By then I was exhausted and clinging to the hope that she would come before induction was even spoken about.

At 40+6, I reached out to our Calm Birth instructor, Lyndal. She suggested we relax that night with a movie while I expressed. Jack and I put on Bridesmaids, and near the end of the movie I went to the bathroom and noticed I had lost my mucus plug. A rush of worry and anxiety swept over me - was I really ready? Could I birth her the way I hoped?

I rang my midwife, Ally, who told me to wait it out. She also mentioned that due to staff shortages, there was a chance I wouldn’t be able to birth at home if labour progressed that night. I felt devastated, but it was out of my control. I even spoke to Remi in my tummy, asking her to hold off just a little longer.

At 4am I woke with strong back pain, coming in waves every 20 minutes. I wasn’t sure if it was labour or just her sitting low in my pelvis. Arlo woke, and chaos unfolded - Arlo running around, our dog Rodger barking, me swaying on the exercise ball trying to breathe through contractions.

By mid-morning contractions were stronger and closer. Jack’s mum arrived to take Arlo to swimming, and I called Ally to say I couldn’t make it to my scheduled ultrasound. She told me firmly: “You’re in labour.” I still wasn’t convinced.

I slid into the bath with calm music, repeating my affirmations. Arlo came in to say goodbye, I gave him the biggest cuddle and kiss, knowing the next time I saw him he’d be a big brother.

By 10am, I messaged Karlee. I told her I was struggling to get comfortable. She reassured me and suggested bringing a birth sling, which turned out to be exactly what I needed.

It took me ages to walk from the bathroom to the hallway where I laboured on a medicine ball for quite some time. I remember feeling as though I didn’t have my breath under control.

At 1pm, I messaged Karlee again asking when she’d like to come over, explaining that my contractions were 5 or so minutes apart and lasting about a minute. At this point, the midwives weren’t there yet. Karlee asked if my contractions were intense enough for me to still talk. I explained that they were intense, and I couldn’t talk through them.

During this time, Jack decided to call our midwife. She asked if I was ready for her to come over, but I didn’t think I needed her yet, I believed I had quite some time to go. Our midwife could hear my contractions over the phone and decided herself to make her way to us.

At 1:45pm, Karlee arrived. The energy shifted immediately. She moved quietly, setting up like a real-life angel without disturbing me, her calm presence anchoring the room. Soon after, my midwives arrived. Seeing them felt like such a relief - the home birth was happening.

Labour intensified. I leaned over the exercise ball with the TENS machine buzzing, gripping a comb in my hand. Jack was always close, offering water, rubbing my back, steady and reassuring.

By the afternoon, contractions were long and powerful. I pulled on the birth sling, roaring through transition. At one point I thought, I can’t do this anymore. I was so exhausted. Ally’s calm words carried me through: “This means you’re in transition.”

I knew what transition had felt like with Arlo - much more intense. So part of me didn’t believe her. But deep down, it meant I was handling labour even better than I had last time.

My midwife encouraged me to hop into the pool. I was hesitant, stuck in my position and not knowing what to expect in the water. When I was finally convinced, I slipped in. The warm water was such a relief, more than I ever could have imagined.

With Jack holding my hand, I surrendered to the surges. The urge to push was unstoppable. My body took over.

Remi crowned for what felt like forever (and yes, there’s photo evidence to prove it). And then — she was there. Just as the sun was going down, with the mountains and lake glowing outside our balcony, she made her entrance.

She was supposed to be caught by her father in the water, but Remi had different ideas and swam straight into my arms. At exactly 41 weeks, she arrived. The room fell into that sacred hush only new life brings, and I was mesmerised, proud of what I had just achieved.

I stayed in the pool for a while, but the water cooled and the midwives boiled pots on the stove to keep me warm. Eventually, I was moved to the couch, towels laid out, Remi on my chest and Rodger our dog snuggled in too.

I delivered the placenta without any interventions or issues. It felt calm, natural, and easy compared to my first birth.

Karlee reheated a meal from The Dinner Ladies, spaghetti bolognese, and it was honestly the best meal I’ve ever eaten. Warm, nourishing, and eaten right there on the couch with my baby in my arms.

That night, after the midwives slowly packed up, Jack and I just sat admiring her. Later, we tucked her into bed, still in awe that she was here.

Remi’s birth was everything I had hoped for - calm, supported, healing, and deeply empowering. Compared to Arlo’s, it felt like I reclaimed birth on my own terms.

If I could give advice to another mum preparing for birth, it would be this:

Do your research, ask questions, and don’t be afraid to stand your ground. Have someone to advocate for you when you’re tired or vulnerable. Don’t let anyone rush you or tell you what your body “should” be doing. Trust yourself. And also — LOTS OF FOOD PREP.

Birth is the most transformative journey you’ll ever experience. It changes you. It shows you your strength. And it is, truly, the most magical experience.