My most precious memories are of the births of my own children, and right next to those, the memories of all the mommas and daddies and babies I have witnessed become families.
So much of my pregnancy and delivery were marked by fear and anxiety, rather than acceptance and a growing confidence in my body’s abilities. (Image: Thinkstock)
In the final weeks of pregnancy with my second child, I went to a group appointment alongside other mothers-to-be and their partner
His birth was supposed to be peaceful, swimming into the world in our kitchen, surrounded by his family, welcomed with cake and champagne. Image: supplied.
I was lucky I didn’t have a c-section. I was lucky he was born, healthy and huge at 10+ pounds, with two hefty pushes. I was lucky. I sobbed anyway.