{Birth Story} : Where I was Born Serie Project | Becky
Today it is Becky that told Bonnie Birth story :
I had grand plans for a serene home birth with my first baby, Billie, through Belmont Hospital. Think calming music, dim lighting, and perhaps a scented candle or two. Instead, I ended up at John Hunter Hospital at 30 weeks due to some unexpected bleeds. After weeks of on-again, off-again drama—and being admitted to hospital indefinitely at 32 weeks until baby would be born—I went into natural labour at 33½ weeks, welcoming my premature baby into the world. So much for candles and calm.
For baby number two, I was risked out of a public system home birth (thanks, prematurity!), but I wasn’t giving up that easily. Enter Rhiannon Tongue, an amazing private midwife I found…by accident. I thought she was recommended by my yoga teacher, but after our initial meeting, I realised my Instagram stalking was a bit off, and had found someone else entirely different. Either way, James and I adored her from the start. She made us feel so informed and confident in our decision to plan a home birth.
Fast-forward to the big day. I was thrilled to have made it to full term. My partner, James, and I started the morning with a leisurely breakfast, though I was feeling those familiar tightenings. Déjà vu from Billie’s labour left me second-guessing whether this was “it.” That evening, friends dropped by to loan us some sheets for a temporary window furnishing, and we laughed about me potentially being in labour. Little did we know!
By 10 p.m., I was timing contractions and messaging Rhi with a casual, “Hey, I might possibly be in labour. Maybe. Hard to say.” I tried to rest, moving between bed and the toilet, wondering if my body was serious this time. Around midnight, I messaged Rhi again to report some bloody mucus. Gross but promising (thank you, Google).
By 1:40 a.m., I was on the phone with Rhi, who encouraged me to try to sleep if I could (ha!). Instead, I moved to the shower, clinging to the hot water for dear life and muttering, “THEY HURT” to Rhi via text.
By 3 a.m., I finally woke James and my sister, Elly. I’d been holding off, thinking about James’s “partner’s cheat sheet,” which advised him to rest until I needed him. But when your contractions start making you vocal, it’s time to call in reinforcements. Contractions were one every four to five minutes, and I sent the signal for Rhi and our birth photographer, Kate.
Things escalated quickly from there. I got out of the shower and made my way to the lounge. I attempted to use a TENS machine, but the pads wouldn’t stick properly (of course). James was busy filling the birth pool, which seemed to take forever, and I kept glaring at the pitiful trickle of water. I succumbed to Billie’s plastic playmat on all fours—the mat was forgiving on my knees, which was a relief since floorboards would have been something else entirely. Meanwhile, Elly was intuitively giving me hip squeezes, which were chef’s kiss lifesavers.
I hit full-blown primal mode—guttural moans, fists clenched, and a string of “fuckkks”—but I was doing it! Somewhere among the chaos, Kate arrived, bringing a sense of calm with her five-kid, pro-birthing energy. Rhi, however, was still en route from the Central Coast, and I kept shouting, “Where is my midwife?!?” unsure if I could do it without her there.
At this point, I realised things were happening fast. Three contractions later, I felt Bonnie’s head coming. Kate reassured me I was doing great, even when I asked her if the blood dripping out of me was normal (spoiler: it was).
On hands and knees, I gave a final push, and James caught our slippery little miracle. Bonnie Frances Bevin arrived on 21 October at 3:50 a.m. at 40+1 and while I was utterly exhausted, I was also in awe. My legs felt like dead weights, but I was finally holding her.
Rhi arrived about 10 minutes later, just in time to help me deliver the placenta—because by that point, all I wanted was to be done. It was surreal how quickly everything had unfolded, and yet, it felt so empowering. My mum arrived just as Bonnie was crowning, perfectly timed for maximum drama.
Once the placenta was delivered, I finally sank into the birth pool with Bonnie, soaking in the magic of those first chest-to-chest moments. She was warm and slippery, and I felt such a profound sense of calm holding her close. After some time, we transitioned to the couch. As the sun rose, Billie woke up and joined us.
We read her a homebirth book as she sat, still half-asleep, not even realising her baby sister was right there. When she finally noticed Bonnie, she sheepishly welcomed her with the sweetest, sleepy smile. It was such a beautiful moment that I’ll cherish forever.
In hindsight, my birth experience was nothing like I’d imagined—there was no lounging around, no leisurely contractions, and no “labour snacks.” Instead, it was raw, messy, and intensely beautiful.
I’m amazed by what women’s bodies are capable of. We truly don’t need a hospital to birth our babies—our bodies just know. That said, I couldn’t have done it without James, Elly, and my incredible support team (or at least, it wouldn’t have been as entertaining).
If you would like to be part of my serie “ Where I was Born” like Becky did, please click here or if you would like me to document your birth, you can find all the information here note that I have special offer for 5 future mums to get your birth photograph all on film.