Astrid’s Birth Story
Written as a letter to my daughter, which I can’t wait for her to one day read!
Sunday 28th September 2025
In the quiet early hours of the morning, at around 3:30 a.m., I woke to a soft dampness in my underwear, just enough to make me wonder if my waters were beginning to break. It was only slight, so I tucked myself back into bed and drifted off again, waiting to see what the day would bring.
A few hours later, at around 7 a.m., I woke to another gentle trickle. I slipped a pad on to keep an eye on things, then made breakfast for Daddy and me, fried egg and avocado on toast, before tidying the kitchen. Daddy took Oskar for his morning walk in the park, and while they were out, a sudden gush of water came. That was the moment I knew: you were on your way. I called the maternity assessment centre, and they advised us to come in. (I’d been planning on getting in the bath and waiting for contractions to begin!)
I rang Grandma to tell her the news and arranged for us to drop Oskar at her house on the way. He’d spend the time with her while we went to meet you.
We arrived at LGI around 10 a.m. The midwives checked the pad and confirmed my waters had definitely broken. Because there was a little blood in the fluid, they popped me on the CTG monitor to keep a close eye on your heartbeat and my contractions. They were gentle at first, more like whispers than waves.
By lunchtime, a room was ready for us on the labour ward. I ate a falafel salad between contractions, which were quickly becoming stronger and more intense. I remained relaxed throughout this, using my birthing comb to squeeze in my hand and Neom calming aromatherapy pen for my wrists. I even got my book out to read, although not much reading was done!
The midwives didn’t want to check my dilation too early, as they advised that there’s more risk of infection once waters have gone, so they ran me a warm bath for comfort.
I managed only about five minutes in the bath before the contractions surged. They were strong, close together, and coming every two to two-and-a-half minutes. I told the midwife I was starting to feel transformed and a real urge to push and so she finally checked my progress.
“Seven to eight centimetres,” she said.
I couldn’t believe it. It was around 4 p.m. Daddy had even brought the iPad hoping to watch the Arsenal match, but the midwife confirmed that football would not be happening! Everything suddenly became a whirlwind. The midwife said it was time to move to the delivery suite. Our new midwife, Mia, arrived with a wheelchair, smiled, and said, “Let’s go have this baby!”
And just like that, everything felt real. We were about to meet you.
In the delivery suite, I pushed for about an hour. I was extremely focused and used visualisation to concentrate on my calm breath work and pushing you through the birth canal. The midwives even commented on how quiet I was during this time, just focusing on bringing you into the world. Calmly and peacefully. I could hear the midwives and daddy cheering me on and guiding me, but in those moments, it was just you and I.
And then, at 5:49 p.m., you arrived, perfect, tiny, and utterly miraculous. A completely natural birth with no pain relief. The moment you were placed on my chest for skin-to-skin, I burst into the happiest tears of my life. Daddy then had his turn for skin-to-skin and held you close for his bonding time.
It was the most euphoric moment we have ever known.
Daddy cut your cord, and then you were weighed, 7lb 4oz of perfection. Afterwards, we shared the famous tea and toast, exhausted and glowing. We spent the night on the postnatal ward, where the lovely midwives helped us with your very first feeds. I couldn’t sleep a wink that night, even though you were nicely settled and sleeping in the bassinet, I just kept staring at you in awe.
Welcome to the world, little one. You changed everything in the most beautiful way.