You’re Having A Home Birth?!

I’ve made it to 30 weeks!

Well, sort of. I have by NHS standards. I personally think its more early into next week. We’ve already had the conversation about what I want to do if baby doesn’t turn up ‘on time’. She’ll come when she’s ready. Considering noone actually knows the exact date she was conceived ( I do enjoy telling people that date-wise, her father was not even in the same postcode…), I don’t expect her to show up on her due date.

But of course, everyone has an opinion. As they do on everything. Especially if you let people know you’re planning a home birth.

Responses range from ‘ooh you’re brave’ to just generally insinuating you’re a bag of shit for risking your baby’s life.

With attitudes like that, it’s no wonder most women end up plumping for hospital. People might think I’m brave for aiming for home, but personally I think it’s braver to have your baby in hospital!!

Of course, it’s not black and white. There’s always the possibilty that anyone could need medical assistance and so have to go to hospital. As much as I’m for home birth, I’m also for making it clear that giving birth in hospital is no form of failure, and an individual’s choice to hospital, MLU or home should totally be respected.

And, as someone who had the complete and utter opposite first-time birth of what I actually wanted, I know too well about the feeling many mums have afterwards of having ‘failed’ in some way. Guilt is something that shrouds most women and it seems to be even more prevalent in birth and child-rearing.

Support and collaboration seems to have been replaced by competition and judgements. I honestly do not give a shit how anyone else is feeding their kids. I can give advice based on my own currently fairly limited knowledge if advice is wanted, but that’s as far as it goes. So why do I feel guilty for giving my daughter a fucking Rusk?!

People have had all sorts of opinions and comments to give, from my choice of a name that’s ‘difficult to spell/say’ (yeah maybe for you…she’s started to pronounce it already funnily enough); to now raised eyebrows, cogs turning and calculations going in the street when a heavily-pregnant woman pushing a pram with what looks like a baby (she’s not got much hair yet and she’s blond so from a distance looks still bald) goes by.

It depends how I’m feeling internally to how I react to these sorts of things – at the moment I’m generally inclined to think that someone who feels the need to voice these opinions out loud to me directly is indeed a bit of a twat. But it has positives – I then know they are not the supportive, like-minded people that I want to surround myself with. God, those people are like gold dust.

So in 10 weeks (or whenever it is she’s ready); hopefully I can join the 2.1% of mamas who have a home birth. Yes, I am 40 mins from a hospital. Yes, my father was born at home a few streets up the road 80 years ago.


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