I was 14 days overdue.
Three sweeps hadn’t worked.
I’d been 3cm dilated for two weeks.
And I had accepted that I was going in for an induction at 11am that morning.
When you’re overdue, the waiting feels endless. Every twinge makes you
wonder. Every message asks, “Any signs yet?” And every day that passes feels
heavier than the last.
I had tried all the gentle suggestions — walking, moving, bouncing, drinking
the teas. All the little things people lovingly recommend when you’re past your
due date.
But nothing happened.
Because my body simply wasn’t ready.
The Night I Stopped Trying
The evening before my induction, something shifted — not physically, but
emotionally.
For the first time in weeks, I stopped trying to make labour happen.
I tanned.
I washed and dried my hair properly.
I shaved.
I painted my nails.
Not because I thought it would start labour — but because I just wanted to feel
like me again. One last evening of caring for myself before stepping into
motherhood.
My partner and I watched a film. We ordered a takeaway. We laughed. I relaxed
properly for the first time in weeks.
And looking back now, hand on heart, I believe that letting go of the pressure
was what allowed my body to finally begin.
Sometimes our bodies don’t need pushing.
They need safety.
Calm.
Rest.
Contractions While Doing My Makeup
At 8:30am the next morning, I was sitting doing my makeup for my induction.
And then I felt it.
One contraction.
Then another.
Then they began coming every five minutes.
It wasn’t dramatic or chaotic like you see in films. It felt steady. Calm. Almost
gentle.
I was on FaceTime to my sister — who was also going to be one of my birth
partners — and every time I stood up during a contraction she would smile and
say, “I think baby’s coming today.” She started getting herself ready because
she just knew she wouldn’t be far behind us heading to the hospital.
There was something comforting about that quiet excitement.
Breakfast Between Contractions
We arrived at the hospital around half past ten.
But because my bed wasn’t ready yet and the doctor had been called into an
emergency C-section, we were told to go for a walk or grab some breakfast
while we waited.
So we sat in the hospital canteen.
I ate toast.
I sipped a drink.
And I quietly timed contractions on my phone.
Five minutes apart.
Still manageable.
Still calm.
In a strange way, I was grateful for the delay. I had hoped for a water birth, and
I knew the best chance of that would be going into established labour naturally.
It felt like my body was gently taking over.
When Everything Changed
Back on the ward, during one contraction, I stood leaning over the window
ledge.
And my waters broke.
That was the moment everything shifted.
Once my waters broke, the option of using the birthing pool became real —
something I had hoped for throughout my entire pregnancy.
The atmosphere changed. Things felt purposeful now.
My body wasn’t waiting anymore.
It was working.
Breathing Became My Anchor
The intensity did build — but I didn’t panic.
I held onto my partner’s hands. I closed my eyes. I went inward.
Slow breath in through my nose.
Long breath out through my mouth.
Relaxing my shoulders.
Letting each contraction rise and fall instead of fighting it.
I hadn’t wanted strong pain relief unless I truly needed it, so breathing became
my anchor.
If you’re pregnant and reading this, please know there are genuinely helpful free
resources available. The NHS offers simple breathing guidance, and there are
beautiful free hypnobirthing sessions on YouTube. You don’t have to spend
hundreds on courses to learn how to breathe through labour.
Gentle breathing doesn’t remove pain.
But it gives you something steady to hold onto.
Choosing the Right Birth Partners
One thing that made an enormous difference for me was choosing the right birth
partners.
They understood me.
They knew that when I go quiet, I need space — not chatter.
They knew practical support helped more than constant reassurance.
They turned on a fan. Handed me water. Stayed calm.
The right energy in the room matters more than we realise. I truly believe who
you choose to have beside you can shape how safe and at ease you feel.
The Water
When I was checked, I was 4cm and fully effaced. I was moved to the birthing
suite and used gas and air while the pool filled.
And the moment I got into the water, I felt relief.
I have always found water healing — since I was little, I’ve taken baths when I
felt poorly. The warmth has always soothed me.
In labour, it was the same.
The water softened the contractions.
It created space between me and the room.
It allowed me to move freely.
Outside the pool, no position felt right.
Inside the pool, my body knew exactly how to move.
The Moment I Trusted Myself
Then I felt it.
The urge to push.
The midwife gently said she didn’t think it was time yet — which made sense.
My waters had only broken three hours before.
But deep down, something in me knew.
With every contraction where I was told not to push, it honestly felt like I was
holding my baby back when she was ready to come.
So on the next contraction…
I trusted myself.
I pushed.
And when I reached down, I felt her head.
I will never, ever forget that moment.
The midwife checked again and told me to push with the next contraction. Her
head was born. And with the one after that, at 4:37pm on 5th November — with
fireworks going off outside — my daughter entered the world.
My first baby.
A water birth.
And a moment where I understood my own strength in a way I never had
before.
The Magic of Lifting Her Myself
One of the most special parts of my birth was being able to lift my daughter up
out of the water myself.
To be the first person to hold her.
That moment felt instinctive. Calm. Almost sacred.
It didn’t feel clinical.
It didn’t feel rushed.
It felt powerful and peaceful all at once.
What I Learned About Trusting My Body
The biggest lesson I took from that day wasn’t about dilation numbers or perfect
timing.
It was about trust.
Trusting my body.
Trusting my instincts.
Allowing myself to soften instead of control.
I don’t believe it was the myths or the sweeps that started my labour.
I believe it was the moment I stopped forcing.
The moment I rested.
The moment I felt safe.
That is something I carry with me now — not just as a mother, but as a woman
learning to trust herself in this entirely new chapter of life.
And if you are still waiting, still overdue, still wondering when it will happen…
Your body is not failing you.
It may just be waiting for the moment you feel ready, too
A Gentle Note to the Mums Who Didn’t Get the Birth
They Hoped For
Not every woman gets the birth she planned.
Some need inductions.
Some need emergency interventions.
Some have C-sections.
Some experience long, overwhelming labours.
And some births feel traumatic.
None of that makes you weak.
None of that makes you less of a mother.
And none of that makes your story less valid.
Birth is unpredictable. Sometimes the safest birth is not the one we imagined —
and that is okay.
If your birth felt difficult or traumatic, support is available:
- The Birth Trauma Association offers free support for birth trauma.
- The PANDAS Foundation provides postnatal mental health support.
- You can also access NHS postnatal mental health services through your
GP or midwife.
You are never alone, even if your story looks different from someone else’s.
The moment I first held her — still, quiet, and completely changed.
I’ve also written about the experience of being labelled “high risk” — and the unexpected steadiness I felt during that time, if that feels helpful to you
Glow With Adeline. 