My name is Danielle and I live in Suriname, the only Dutch speaking country in South America.

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After a good unmedicated vaginal first birth experience in 2015 but plagued with a heavy aftermath of postpartum depression; we were cautious to try again. Two miscarriages later and I was very much on edge when I found out we were expecting again.

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Usually pregnant women who do not pose high risks stay under care of their house physician until month 7. Afterwards they are referred to an OBGYN. Due to my history of postpartum depression and recent D & C my doctor referred me to the OBGYN very early in my first trimester. My OB and her team of midwives were very vigilant during our appointments. They always gave me the opportunity to play an active role: as it should be.

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"...my husband asked me if I was peeing or if the baby was coming. I gave him the stink-eye."

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As my due date approached so did my fear of the mental aspect of the birth. My fear lay not in the physical pain but in the mental strain birth and the newborn stage takes on the woman. The morning before my due date arrived, I woke up around 6 am with an intense need to pee. The pressure got even bigger. As I kicked my husband over, I barely made it next to the bed when I wet myself. Or so I thought… As I stood between the bed and the desk it kept pouring: a steady stream of amniotic fluid Through hazy eyes my husband asked me if I was peeing or if the baby was coming. I gave him the stink-eye. We called the hospital and explained the situation. We were told to get in as soon as possible.

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Around 7 am, right before we left is when the first contraction started. And just like that my body took over and I remembered what I needed to do; my breathing started getting deeper, longer and fuller. My knees bent and I felt the urge to open up my womb: my core. We got to the hospital at 8am. We went through my chart and I was checked. I was not close to being fully dilated but my contractions were very close. My OB came to see me and the overall conversation was very light, and we discussed our options.

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I was told that they wanted to move me from a delivery room to a hospital room. They thought I was not really close to delivery and they expected it to be a few more hours before complete dilation. They suggested that my husband go home. I refused. I told them I needed to get up, get off the bed and do it my way with my husband close to me.

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The team gave me my space and left the delivery room.

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"I walked, I squatted, I danced, I sang, I cried, I prayed and I wailed"

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I walked, I squatted, I danced, I sang, I cried, I prayed and I wailed. When I felt my body was ready I asked my husband to get the midwife. Time did not exist for me: I didn’t need to know how far apart the contractions were, I didn’t need to keep time.

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I barely made it to the bed… I was crowning and before my midwife could even put on her gloves, gown and mask I started grunting. My midwife looked at me and said: "Do what you need to do. I’m just here to help you when you need me too." My husband was right by my side encouraging me all the way. I could feel her coming. No pushing, just bearing down and with some words of encouragement she was there. It was so quiet in the room. Quiet between my legs… My husband and the midwife looked at each other with eyes wide. And then they held up the most beautiful chunky rosy baby born at 11:20 am. She latched and my mind eased and all was well.