Samara
The Birth of Baby Brennan
Estimated due Date 29,11,2024
The Birth of
Matilda Chloe Brennan
Born on the December 2, 12, 2024
At -7.40am
Weight – 3.3kg
Length – 50cm
Head – 34.5cm
"Labour is not just the birth of a baby, but the awakening of a mother's strength, a testament to the power of resilience and love. In every wave, there is a moment of transformation, and with each breath, a mother becomes who she was always meant to be."
This is my second time being invited to be part of Samara and Jack's birth journey. Samara and Jack are the sweetest, most easy-going couple, and it was a privilege to support them as Samara so courageously and powerfully birthed their son, Daniel. And now, here we are again. There is a unique comfort in familiarity, a kind of ease that makes being part of their story feel seamless and deeply rewarding.
Samara has shared with me her plans to become a doula one day, and honestly, it feels so natural for her. She has the heart, the passion, and such a genuine love for all things pregnancy, birth, and postpartum. Samara is as prepared as anyone can be—not just for labour, but for stepping back into the world of motherhood.
I feel so honoured to support her as she rediscovers her birth power and welcomes this precious little baby into the world.
Samara has been juggling work and caring for a busy toddler, so it’s a relief that her pregnancy has been smooth overall. Towards the end, there was some concern that her baby might be small for gestational age, but both Samara and Jack aren’t big people, and she carried small with Daniel too. A trip to the LGH and some extra scans gave the reassurance they needed—everything was perfectly on track.
1st of December 2024
7.30 am Right now, at 40 weeks and 2 days, Samara is in early labour. As I sit here writing this, I’m feeling a mix of excitement for what today might bring. With Jack’s love, and emotional and physical support, plus myself and the amazing MGP midwives, Samara has such a wonderful team around her. She is in the safest of hands, and I know she’ll feel completely supported every step of the way.
Samara brought her firstborn, Daniel, into the world in the powerful embrace of water, and we’re all hoping for another little water baby this time. I’ve got a hunch it might be a girl, but of course, the real magic lies in the moment we all find out.
At 7:44 pm, Samara lets me know updates during the day, and she has continued experiencing mild tightening’s all day. They’ve been steady and persistent. She’s got the TENS machine on now, along with a heat pack for pain relief on her back—settling into her groove beautifully.
By 8:30 pm, another message arrives. Her contractions are coming every 3–6 minutes and are medium in intensity. Samara reassures me she’s coping well, leaning over the birth cub, and doesn’t need me to join her just yet.
Even from a distance, I can feel her calmness and readiness for what is to come. Way to go, my birthing goddess—your baby’s journey has begun, and you are doing beautifully.
"Early labour is a quiet dance of the body, where strength begins to stir beneath the surface. It’s a time of gentle preparation, a sacred pause before the intensity, where every contraction is a step closer to the moment that will change everything."
9:35 pm – Jack calls to let me know they’re ready for me to come over. We chat for a moment to ensure there’s no immediate need to head straight to the hospital. Samara feels that her contractions are about three minutes apart, and while the intensity is building, she feels it’s not quite time yet. I tell her, “I trust you know what’s happening and what’s best for you. I’m on my way.”
When I arrive at Samara and Jack’s home, everything is calm and quiet. Samara is leaning into Jack, breathing through each wave with focus and ease. After listening to a few of her contractions, we discuss our plan. Samara had mentioned to me earlier that she didn’t want to be rushing to the LGH at the last minute—second labours can sometimes move more quickly, and she’s already feeling some pressure in her bottom. Together, we make the unanimous decision to head to the labour ward.
Samara’s sister is already here, ready to care for Daniel. The house remains peaceful as we prepare to make our way to the LGH.
11:04 am – Our drive to the LGH is slow and steady, made even slower by the driver in front of Jack. When we arrive, we make our way up to the birth suite. I’d asked for a room with a bath, and we’re so grateful to find that one is waiting for us.
Samara is deep in her labour now—strong, steady, and beautifully focused. I can see the quiet confidence she carries, knowing that everything she’s prepared for is coming to life. She trusts herself, her body, and the process, fully aware she has everything she needs to do this—no matter how long or short the journey ahead.
Samara rocks gently in Jack’s arms, with the tens machine on and her heat pack for her back. I quietly begin setting up the room to create a peaceful, calm space for her to labour in. I place an affirmation card where she can see it, turn on the diffuser to fill the room with a soothing scent and dim the lights to keep everything soft and warm.
I try to set up some gentle background music, but something doesn’t go quite right. Instead of the calm, soothing tones I was aiming for, the room suddenly fills with what sounds more like a disco! We all share a quick laugh—one of those moments of lightness that you sometimes need in the middle of labour—before I manage to fix it, and the soft music finally plays.
Samara’s wonderful MGP midwife and a student midwife are here too, quietly sitting in the background unless needed, giving Samara the space to labour in her way. Their calm presence is reassuring, as Jack and I continue to support Samara on her journey to birthing her baby.
11.20 am - Jack connects their carefully chosen playlist—songs that Samara has been listening to and connecting with throughout her pregnancy. The familiar music fills the room, creating a sense of comfort and grounding as we help her into the warm and inviting bath. The warmth of the water surrounds her, and I can see her whole body begin to relax as she sinks into the soothing embrace of it. There’s a sense of lightness and calm that washes over her, allowing her to fully let go and flow with the rhythm of her labour.
The music plays gently in the background, Jack stays close, and together we hold space for Samara as she rides each wave with quiet strength and trust.
12.01 am on the 2nd of December
By 12:01 am, Samara's sensations are strong and powerful, her body fully immersed in the rhythm of labour. She is on all fours in the bath, leaning into the water as it cradles her and helps her manage the intensity. Her birthing sounds fill the room—deep, instinctive, and completely her own.
I am by her side, applying acupressure to her shoulders, working in tandem with the surges that come and go. Jack is close, offering her sips of water, whispering encouragement, and holding space for her with such care and love. Together, we create a cocoon of safety and support, where Samara can let go and allow her body to lead the way.
Samara is so tuned into her body. She is the only client I have ever had who is doing her own cervical exams, trusting herself to know what is happening within. “I think I can feel a cervical lip,” she says softly, the words carrying both curiosity and calm. She moves intuitively, shifting and adjusting, finding positions that help her bodywork with the sensations.
The water continues to hold her as she breathes and vocalises through each wave, her strength unwavering. This is her journey—primal, powerful, and deeply personal. I feel honoured to be here, witnessing Samara and Jack navigate this moment together with trust, love, and complete surrender to the unknown journey we call labour and birth.
By 12:30 am, Samara decides to get out of the bath. We move into a new rhythm—applying acupressure for optimal baby positioning, focusing on points on her little toe and shoulders. To encourage movement, we also try gently jiggling her bottom with the rebozo, helping this little one settle into a better space if needed. The TENS machine goes back on, as does the heat pack, offering relief as Samara continues to breathe through the sensations. Moving onto her side, she quietly shares that she feels her baby should have been here by now. Thoughts of breaking her waters begin to surface in Samara’s mind, but after talking through it together, she decides against it. Her labour is flowing beautifully—it’s simply unfolding longer than she had imagined.
By 1:00 am, Samara is standing and leaning into Jack, the heat pack still in place for back pain, her voice shifting to tell us that her baby is coming down now. The midwife feels her stomach and confirms the baby is sitting on Samara’s left-hand side, everything progressing exactly as it should.
Samara’s sounds are deep and purposeful, either helping her baby descend or encouraging her little one to adjust position. Following her instincts, Samara decides it’s time to return to the bath, where the water will once again support her body and her journey forward.
Samara is her own birthing goddess, leaning fully into the strength of her body, her mind, and the natural flow of hormones carrying her through. In one hand, she grips the acupressure comb and in the other, she rests safely in Jack’s strong, steady arms. They are an incredible team. Jack is her rock, his calm presence unwavering as he supports her with quiet whispers and unwavering love. Samara works tirelessly through each surge, her body a testament to the fierce determination of birthing women. Between the waves, she finds moments of stillness, resting in the calm before the next one rises.
By 1:50 am, Samara’s voice softens, and she whispers into the quiet of the room, “I want you to be born,” speaking directly to her baby. Her breathing changes again, working with her body now, as though they are in perfect harmony. Then, as it so often happens, she reaches that raw and tender place—a place where the mind begins to whisper doubt. “I can’t do this,” she says, her voice small but resolute. And without hesitation, Jack leans into her, his voice steady, full of love: “But you are doing it.”
Those words hang in the air like an anchor, grounding Samara back into herself. She is doing it. She has been doing it all along. This is labour—is demanding, and yet full of moments that remind us how strong we truly are. Samara keeps going, her breathing steady, her body moving intuitively as she prepares to meet her baby. Following her instincts as she journeys closer to holding her little one in her arms.
2:20 am
The early hours of the morning settle in, and weariness begins to touch us all. Jack and I know we need to stay strong for Samara. We decided to tag-team rest—thirty minutes each—so we can continue to support our birthing goddess. I feel for Samara. The exhaustion is etched across her face, but there’s no true rest for her—only the short reprieve between contractions. Her body’s hormones are working hard to carry her through, and we are here to hold space and care for her in every way we can.
I massage her head gently, whispering encouragement, ensuring she keeps sipping water to stay hydrated. She breathes, she focuses, and she continues. Samara mentions that her own cervical checks are telling her what she feels in her heart — that her baby hasn’t moved right down yet.
4:41 am
Jack and I have each managed a short sleep, and we’re both back at Samara’s side. She’s ready to try something new, a shift from the bath to the shower—hoping gravity and change will help her baby descend. Jack wraps his arms around her, as I kneel behind her, pressing into her hips with double hip squeezes for relief. I notice the faint purple line rising in her bottom, mother nature’s sign of her progress.
Samara listens to her body, moving from all fours to straddling the toilet. Here, Mother Nature offers a pause—a moment of stillness where Samara can catch her breath. I watch her in such admiration, thinking how brave, resilient, and unwavering she is in her trust of her body and her baby.
Then back to the shower. Her labour has been strong and consistent for so many hours now, yet there’s no clear end in sight. Still, she carries on—determined, unwavering, and full of power. I know her strength will carry her through.
Samara and Jack’s little baby has been content throughout the labour. Our midwife quietly listens in with the doppler, honouring Samara’s request not to share heart rate updates unless needed.
"You are doing the most important work—bringing life into this world. Take each moment as it comes, knowing your baby is worth every step of this journey."
5:33 am – 6:30 am
Samara returns to the bed, we heat up the heat pack and Samara shifts between positions—lying on her side, then onto all fours, and back again. I continue with acupressure, rubbing labour oils into her legs and temples. Our midwife suggests some Spinning Babies techniques to help the baby descend. Despite her exhaustion, Samara is ready to try anything to bring her baby into the world.
The side-lying release is intense—three contractions on each side—but Samara does it with the same quiet determination that has carried her through the night. I can’t help but think a forward-leaning inversion might help too, though I hesitate, not wanting to push too much. But in true Samara style, she agrees without hesitation. And to our surprise, she smiles and says it wasn’t as bad as the side-lying release.
We all share a giggle when Samara exclaims, “I can’t believe this baby! The second labours are supposed to be shorter than the first. I’m going to hold this over them for the rest of their life!”
Her humour shines through, even in the thick of it.
6:30 am
Samara returns to the bath, and by 7 am, she’s back in the shower. Her contractions are relentless. She’s been in established labour since the night before, and while everything is progressing without complications, Samara is exhausted and losing momentum. The tears begin to flow, and it’s heartbreaking to witness.
I step out of the shower to speak with the midwives about other ways we can support Samara. The student midwife suggests spinning babies’ lifts and tucks, but those won’t be effective now that the baby is well engaged. I flip through my Spinning Babies book, my mind tired too, searching for new ideas. Side lunges! We haven’t tried these yet.
They’ll be tough, but Samara is strong. She’ll need to lift her foot onto the shower chair and lean into Jack as she does three lunges on each side. This will help create space in the mid-pelvis. If it works, Samara will be making room for her baby’s final descent.
I return to the shower to speak with Samara, gently explaining the next steps. I acknowledge how tired she is and the intensity of the contractions, but I reassure her that this might be the key to getting her to the finish line. True to form, Samara pushes through the pain, knowing it’s for a purpose. She has a bloody show, a wonderful sign that her baby is moving.
After completing three lunges on each side, Samara is exhausted and emotional she moves to the floor for a rest.
I step out again to speak with the midwives. As I helped Samara with the lunges, I couldn’t help but think, If this were my labour... I know it’s not, but I care deeply for Samara, and I feel the intensity is too much for her to continue without any relief or rest if she doesn’t feel like she will be having her baby soon. I suggest to the midwives that we ask Samara how she would feel about a vaginal exam. I believe it could provide insight into the baby’s position and help Samara and us plan out the best way forward.
I gently sit on the floor, explaining my thoughts to Samara and Jack. Samara agrees to have an exam, and I can see a sense of relief wash over her face. I’m not sure if it’s the decision itself or just the shift in the moment, but something changes. Looking back, I realise also those side lunges have worked their magic, opening the space for her baby to move.
As we prepare to help Samara back to bed, the next contraction comes in strong. Samara is taken by surprise by the intensity as her waters break, and we all know—this little baby isn’t waiting for any exams. He or she is coming. We call the midwives into the shower. After patiently waiting for so long, Samara starts to feel overwhelmed. “I’m not ready,” she says, knowing her baby is on the way but unsure if her body has time to stretch.
With the room filled with quiet support, Jack is right by Samara’s side, ready to welcome their baby into his hands alongside the midwife. Our midwife’s voice is calm and steady as she gently encourages Samara to go slowly. Every breath, every moment, requires Samara to dig deep—so deep—into her soul. Birthing a baby is the most intense act of surrender and strength, and in these moments, the enormity of it can feel almost unreachable.
But Samara has us all there, holding her through it. Calm words, soft hands, and a steady presence remind her that she can do this, and she is. Their baby begins to crown—dark hair appearing first—and as the pressure rises, the intensity swells in her body and mind. Samara softly calls out for help, but the truth is, she doesn’t need any, she is doing it all so perfectly. She’s already bringing life forward, on her hands and knees, each breath carrying her further.
We see the baby’s sweet little face and a sneaky little hand. There is a pause as everything is still for a moment. The world seems to hold its breath as Samara gathers herself for this last, impossible stretch. Again, she reaches deep, feeling like she can’t…but she can. She is. The baby rotates one final time, and in this sacred space, Jack’s calm words and steady hands are there, ready.
And then, with one big last surge, their baby is born—crying out with a strong voice to announce her debut before settling into blissful calm in her daddy’s safe embrace. She’s perfect—content, peaceful, and already so loved. Samara’s incredible strength has brought her here, and the room fills with quiet awe at the miracle she has just brought forth.
We see it’s a baby girl but say nothing, letting Samara have that sacred moment of discovery. Still trying to catch her breath, while her body and her mind begin to catch up with all that’s just happened, we gently help her into a seated position. She looks down at her baby, taking in every detail. “You have dark hair… you look like your dadda,” she whispers, her voice soft but full of wonder.
Samara’s face lights up as she realises she’s given birth to a baby girl.
Her daughter is so alert, gazing up at her mum with bright, curious eyes, as though she’s already taking in the world. There’s a quiet magic to the moment—time slowing as they meet each other for the very first time. Words aren’t needed; the connection says it all. Samara smiles—pure, radiant joy—and Jack, beside her, is awash with love as he gazes at their baby girl.
Together, they share those precious first moments—Samara, Jack, and their daughter wrapped in a bubble of calm and connection. The little one’s wise eyes meet her mummy’s, so curious for someone so new, as if she already knows something about life. The room overflows with love, hearts full as the strength, the love, and the beauty of birth unfold.
It’s a feeling that takes your breath away, every single time.
As we know, birth isn’t truly complete until the placenta has made its appearance. Thankfully, this part of Samara’s journey is quick and seamless. She moves to the toilet, and shortly after, her placenta follows, its job complete, marking the final chapter of her birth story.
Though Samara’s labour stretched longer than she had imagined, she has done it—achieving the physiological birth she had hoped for, and so deeply deserved. With unwavering strength and determination, she journeyed through each moment, showing herself just how resilient, capable, and brave her spirit truly is. It was a labour of love, endurance, and trust in her body’s wisdom.
To witness her courage, unfold and to hold space for her as she brought her baby earthside was nothing short of an honour—a reminder of the power within every birthing woman and the profound beauty of birth itself.
Before Samara, Jack, and their baby daughter could fully settle in, Samara needed a few stitches. While she hadn’t used gas during labour, she found it helpful for this part of the journey. Once again, she demonstrated her incredible bravery and resilience.
I take a moment after the stitching to quickly head home and retrieve the nutritious snacks I had accidentally left behind—Nepali rice pudding and lactation balls, which I’d prepared for Samara to enjoy after her birth. Along with them, I had a biscuit with pink icing, as I had a feeling, we’d soon be meeting a sweet little girl.
Now, mum, Dad and baby can rest, taking the time to truly get to know each other as their little one snuggles close, enjoying her first of many breastfeeds in her mummy’s arms. The three of them now have the space to simply be together.
Samara and Jack, thank you for trusting in me and inviting me to be part of your birth story. It’s been such a privilege to witness the strength, love, and resilience you both showed during this incredible journey. I wish you all the best as a family of four, and I hope the many adventures and joyful moments ahead are filled with laughter, love, and everything beautiful. You’ve already shown what amazing parents you are, and I know this next chapter will be just as remarkable.
Love Krista xxx