Before I go any further I want to explain me a bit. I am a nurse working toward becoming a midwife. I find pregnancy and birth especially so interesting and indescribable. I read birth stories and information for years before I conceived my daughter. I am so glad I did because I knew, without the pressure of a 9-month time limit, that I didn't trust a planned hospital birth to do the very best by me, my partner and our child. The often unnecessary interventions and general fear did not sit with me and I knew I would give birth better at home. It also meant when I told Andy that I wanted a homebirth he did not even flinch. Other people among our families and friends did not understand and didn't think we were doing the right thing, but I knew in my bones that we were.

I didn't have the usual barrage of antenatal testing, knowing that I would have and love my baby in whatever shape she came to us in. I am not convinced that ultrasounds are totally safe (has anyone actually ever studied it properly?) so I only had a 12-week scan and chose to leave well enough alone, trusting my baby to tell me and myself to listen if there was anything wrong.

The West Australian government has got one thing definitely right in their health care system – a government-funded community midwifery program, that does water births and now VBACs. I signed up and settled in to get to know our midwife, Ruth. I booked a tub through the program, looking forward to giving birth to our baby in the water in our lounge room.

Six weeks before my due date (which I never paid any attention to, knowing my baby would be "early") She dropped into my pelvis and I watched and waited, hoping we would scrape into the 37-week mark. Any earlier than 37 weeks and Ruth's insurance would not cover her if she attended our birth, not to mention she would be sacked and possibly deregistered, which none of us wanted. But I didn't (don't) trust hospitals and obstetricians for normal births. We inched our way closer with me going to the toilet every five minutes the day I clicked over to 37 weeks (a Monday) and we could pick up the tub. I was so excited about that, and dreamed about it every chance I got.

At 35 weeks I definitely lost my mucous plug. I told myself that was fine, it's not unusual and people have still lasted for another two to three weeks. I told myself that a lot. It didn't work. We decided that we would go buy a tarp for the floor and an extra hose for faster tub filling if we made it to the Saturday before I went to 37 weeks.

So at 5:30 that Saturday morning I got up to pee – just in case there was more than one drop in my bladder – and when I was trying to get comfy in bed again, I felt a little spurt of liquid between my legs. For a split second I thought I must have finally found where all the pee was hiding in my bladder and wet the bed. Not so. It was my waters leaking. There was no great gush or anything, just a constant dribbling, so no shopping for us.

I decided that I would need a good breakfast that morning if ever I had needed one and tucked into a pot of porridge and read a good book. At one stage during this quiet breakfast Andy woke up and called out sleepily if everything was OK. "Fine! My waters broke, but go back to sleep," I said, and the funny man did without a second thought.

Throughout the last three-ish weeks of my pregnancy my hips "ached." Sitting for more than 10 minutes made them ache, and driving was agony. So I swirled my hips through the last weeks, never thinking how much that would come to help later. All during that quiet morning while the sun was creeping into the sleepy world, I kept waiting to feel a "contraction" that the movies/TV told me was agony and unmistakably, and wise women told me recognizable after a while, often a bad period pain, and were better described as expansion. I was looking forward to seeing what I would feel. But I didn't feel anything, just my hips still aching. I was bit put out. Surely I could get away from my aching hips during labor at least?

Then came a tightening across my lower tummy for a few seconds. "Ooooo," I thought, "the show is starting." And that was the only "contraction" I ever felt across my abdomen. The only one. And it did feel like a period cramp.

Andy woke up around 8ish and we decided to hop in the shower. I was tired, having slept poorly for many nights, and my hips would not let me sit or lie down to rest. After half an hour under the water I felt refreshed and grounded, like I climbed back in to my skin and knew myself again.

I rang our midwife, Ruth, around 9 a.m., not wanting to wake her earlier as nothing was happening. We talked and decided she would ring the hospital and let them know we would be coming in today sometime, and she suggested that she would pop over around lunchtime to see how we were going, and said she expected things to get going properly in the late afternoon/evening. I remember hanging up the phone thinking that lunchtime was so far away, what on earth was I going to do all that time? And would my hips ever stop aching?

I remember during the morning that I found myself getting a bit unsettled and itchy (not as in I have to scratch my skin). So I stopped and reminded myself that this was my birth, and I chose this. I thought about the mantra that I had chosen weeks ago, but it didn't feel right to use it now. Andy was great that whole time. It was just the two of us puttering around at home while my body was getting ready to bring forth our baby. He didn't fuss at me or tell me to do anything, trusting in my body and my instincts to do it well, and let him know if his help was needed. What a lovely man.

Next thing I knew Andy was letting Ruth in, such a calm, unhurried presence that slotted in perfectly with the atmosphere we had created in our home. During my pregnancy I had declined having the Group B Strep swabs as I wasn't going to have an IV, let alone antibiotics, during labor, especially as the swabs coming back positive and the antibiotics during labor didn't guarantee a single thing. As we were a bit early, Ruth felt it best to be cautious and do the swabs and I didn't care so I agreed.

Ruth went to put the speculum in, but couldn't get it all the way in up to my cervix. A bit surprised, she asked if she could examine me (the only exam I had), and I agreed. So she bent over to have a look as she examined me and exclaimed, "I can see your baby's hair!." So far I had been a little distant from the fact that our baby was going to be born that very day. But at hearing that there was a big lump in my chest and tears burned my eyes. It was really happening; my baby was finally coming to me.

Ruth decided I was 7 centimeters dilated and we had best scoot to the hospital. So we added a couple of things to the bag that we had packed and hopped in Ruth's car, deciding that she would be best to drive. Andy didn't think he could concentrate well enough to get us safely to the hospital. I had a few aches (not contractions, and almost expansions) on the way and as I couldn't swirl my hips as I had been doing the whole time up until then I had to breathe and remind myself that neither the ache nor the car drive would last forever, so I could cope with a temporary discomfort. Besides which it all meant that our baby was on her way, so I decided not to mind. And after all, after each expansion/ache was done it was one I never had to have again. It was one closer to our baby.

Ruth dropped Andy and me at the entrance and went to park, after giving us directions to the ward where we would meet. I tried to listen but it didn't stay in my mind at all, and I knew Andy would sort it out. On the way I had to stop a couple of times and lean against the wall and swirl my hips. I remember a woman and her barely teenager daughter walking past us, trying not stare as I leaned against the wall, swirling, but desperately wanting to. It made me chuckle – I would do exactly the same if I were them. Plus the only clothes that fit me were Andy's running shorts and one of his T-shirts. No shoes.

We met Ruth and she ushered us in. Earlier she had told us that she was not allowed to catch our baby in the hospital, but she would be there the whole time as our friend, advocate and support person. Before we left home I also reminded her that we wished for a lotus birth. It is an uncommon but gentle practice where you don't cut the umbilical cord, instead letting it separate from the baby as normally happens with the stump, treating the placenta with salt, which stops it from breaking down and helps it dry out. It's like letting the baby have some extra time in this brand-new, crazy, bright world cuddling up to her blankie. It's also respecting the placenta that was her entire life support system. It never felt right to me that after the entire birth experience and separation from everything the baby has ever known, we then go and cut the one link she has left before she is even hours old, and has had a chance to say good-bye to it. For more information on this simply search "lotus birth" for a better explanation than I could give.

We were shown into the room and met the midwife from the hospital, Tracey. Fortune smiled on us this day – Tracey had been Ruth's student, so not only did they work seamlessly together, but Ruth was able to catch our baby.

I did feel somewhat overwhelmed walking into the room. It was very nice, but so big. The only thing that is big in our home is our shower, so I felt very small and a bit displaced to begin with. I barely even glanced at the bed. Poor Andy had to fill in paperwork, which I had already filled in months ago, but had been lost. Of course all the details had fled his head so he had to ask me and I did get a bit testy when he asked me where I had been born – after six years he should have known.

I tried to have a bite of a muesli bar but felt nauseous right away and so gave that idea up. So I found the bathroom, which was big enough for a bathroom, but nice and cozy, being way smaller than the main room. It was not so bright and just plain exposed either. I felt like I really had to do a poo, but I also knew it was likely that it was just the baby moving down. I was not taking any chances, though, having been going on and off all morning, and knew it couldn't hurt to sit on the toilet anyway.

I was starting to get really high on hormones by now and so becoming intensely focused on what my body was doing, and not thinking too much (which is a good thing. Brains don't have babies – bodies do. I had intended to turn my brain off and not let it get in the way of my body.). So when someone, maybe Andy, noticed that sitting on the toilet was making me more and more uncomfortable they suggested I get off. What a brilliant idea!

I moved into the shower space and pulled my shirt off as I was starting to sweat a bit. The person who designed that bathroom was a genius and put two rails running parallel to each other and the perfect width for me to comfortably grab hold without having to stretch. I am not a big person by any stretch of the imagination. There was also a rail running between the two at waist height. I grabbed a hold of those two rails and didn't let go until my baby was born.

I still didn't have pain as such, though I do remember getting Andy to shove his fist into my lower back/hip at one stage as it ached pretty fierce there for a bit. My memory is pretty patchy as I was way high on endorphins and oxytocin at this stage (hormones are the best!). I do remember Tracey telling me that they had to put a monitor on me (like I gave a stuff by now!) and I did have to stop my swirling for a second while she did it up. She gave the monitor thingy to Andy to hold. All I cared about was getting back to my swirling.

I was getting pretty vocal by now, and I was starting to hit the higher octaves when Andy's voice told me to try and keep the noises in a lower pitch. The second brilliant idea! It really helped use the sound to release any tension I felt instead of adding to it as the higher pitched sounds were doing. Andy didn't do much else physically, just stood next to me running his fingers lightly up and down my back, which I have always loved him doing. It was perfect, enough to let me know he was there without requiring anything of me.

I do remember everything getting clearer for a few moments, and I tell you if I could have pressed a pause button, gone home snuggled up in a bed and come back to finish tomorrow I would have without hesitation or doubt! I was also rational enough to know that I couldn't do that and I had to tell myself a couple of times that I did actually want to do this. It helped. I'm fairly sure that was me in transition, and then I was transported back into the blissful hormone awareness of only my body.

I also started to use my mantra, "open and relaxed." It was how I put my brain into being useful and not getting in my body's way. Ruth told me after that when our baby was just about crowning, every time I said "open and relaxed" she could literally see my vagina/birth canal opening up a bit more. I think that's pretty cool.

I knew I was getting pretty loud in my sounds, but also decided I couldn't care less. I do remember my sounds changing without my choosing to change them, and both Ruth and Tracey came running into the room, knowing that it was action time. I also knew that as I could feel her move farther and farther down the pressure of her moving was making the little bit of poo left in me come out. I didn't love that but couldn't do a thing about it, and lovely Ruth took care of it for me.

Crowning was the oddest feeling ever. It didn't burn or hurt or anything, but was very intense. I have no words to describe it, nor do I really have a clear memory of how it felt. I know it felt like nothing I had ever experienced before. I also know that Ruth or Tracey told me to stop pushing when she crowned. A teeny little part of my mind said, "Yeah! Do that! It's a good thing to do," but for the life of me I couldn't figure out how to do that. I wasn't making a conscious effort to push; my body just was. So how do I stop doing something that I wasn't even aware that I was doing in the first place?

I asked, and was told to breathe. Sounded like good advice so I gave it a go, and out came this little mushed head. I know Andy had a look at this stage (not too easy as he was squished into the corner and I was standing up) and I know it really moved him and he said something. I have no idea what.

As I pushed again and felt her body slip out of mine I had an insane thought of, "I hope someone is going to catch!" which I knew was ridiculous as soon as I thought it, but there you go. Next thing I remember this squishy, slippery little baby was in my arms, and I was sitting on the toilet trying to get my bra off or open or just something so I could put her on my breast and feed her. She fed for an hour and I was in heaven.

Ruth prompted Andy to tell me we had a girl, but I knew that already. We didn't have an ultrasound to find out. But I knew the baby in my belly was a girl, which was a good thing as the only name that felt right was a girl's name.

It took an hour and a half for my placenta to come out and required a catheter (tube) to drain my bladder as I couldn't figure out how to pee, and it was kind of in the way – who cared when my baby was in my arms?! What is amazing about that was the hospital policy allowed half an hour before an injection of synthetic oxytocin was administered, with the cord cut. I did not want the injection unless necessary, and I didn't want the cord cut at all. It put the hospital staff in a bit of a flap as none of them had ever dealt with a lotus birth before and so hospital policy didn't make any allowances for this. But they were really interested in accommodating what I wanted, and the only doctor I saw was a lovely young woman who didn't see any reason to make me have the injection as I wasn't bleeding, and to keep her posted, but said for us to try everything else first. And I agreed if I started bleeding then yes of course I would have the injection, but please don't cut the cord. It was all a moot point in the end and a perfect placenta came away in its own time. After her cord separated after five days we bought a beautiful rose plant and pot and buried it there.

She was born at 2:20 p.m., after 20 minutes of "pushing," being at the hospital for an hour and nine hours of labor. There was never a question of drugs – much to most people's surprise. I never even thought of them during the entire day, and I decided well before that drugs simply were not an option and I would just cope with any pain. I also kept in mind that not everyone has a painful labor, and I got lucky. I trusted my body implicitly without any hesitation or doubt. I do not fear birth; I did not wish to hide from it. I wanted to immerse myself in it, jump in head first and discover just what I could do.

And I am so glad I did. I can look myself in the eye and know myself. I found that I have a strength within myself that is not used in everyday life, a strength that every woman has – if she has the courage to go find it. And that knowledge of strength has seen me through these 18 months since that day. I have needed it, and needed the confidence of knowing myself.

I still would have liked to have been at home, and for the next one I still plan on a water birth at home. Andy pointed out, and I totally agree with him, she wanted to be born the way she was and that's fine with me. She got what she wanted, and we got we wanted, namely a beautiful, gentle, intimate, loving birth. Every decision we made was to respect her fragility and strength, as well as our own, and I think we did a good job.

She had no vitamin k, no hepatitis B (as is scheduled in W.A.), no eye cream, never left my sight, let alone the room. Neither of us were labeled with name bands and numbers (after all how many babies in the hospital still had their placenta still attached? She was going nowhere I was not going).We were discharged after four hours (the minimum requirement) into Ruth's care and she visited every day for two weeks, then a last visit at one month.

I am still breastfeeding and I adore snuggling in bed with her and watching her fall asleep. I love knowing that however frustrated we get with each other I can still communicate my love in a clear and unequivocal way. I don't plan to stop anytime soon.