An unassisted undiagnosed footling breech birth
“The children said I “screamed a bit”, but I felt every centimetre of my baby descending, and I could hold the growing pressure in my vagina, without contracting against it. In this way, progress was very quick — two or three pushes, and not even a strong stretching feeling, and I said, “I’m crowning”. One more push and “Here’s the head”. Yet strangely I had no feeling of my push finishing easily at the baby’s neck.”
“We were in candlelight, and I was tucked into the darkest corner of the spa bath. Nicholas had a torch ready, and he shone it into the water to check the baby. “It’s a foot”, he said. I turned, my baby still half in my body, and saw a left leg waving in the water. Nicholas leant down — I still don’t know how did it without getting wet — and freed the other leg, which was straight against her belly, held only by the foot.”
“Standing with ease, I leaned forward, my hands supporting her slippery little legs and bottom, and, without waiting for the next wave, I pushed. Out came her chest, arms spilling out, cord tumbling and tangled, then lastly, with one push, her head. I scooped her up into my arms, to the warmth of my heart. She was like a little bundle of kelp; floppy, blue and not breathing. (The children said later “We thought she was a dead baby”.) “We love you, baby, we love you,” they cried, calling her in. After twenty or thirty seconds — it seemed longer, but Nicholas was watching her closely — she opened one eye, squeaked, and took a breath, pinking up straight away.”