Dear Kat – this is the story of my second delivery, which I’m thrilled to say was every bit as peaceful and positive as the first, but a lot lot quicker!

Having spent several days in labour with my first baby, I gave a lot of thought during my second pregnancy to how my three-year-old and I would be kept well cared-for and occupied if her sibling took a similarly long time to be born.

My mother arrived to stay at 38 weeks, and I had a playlist, aromatherapy oils, snacks and my birth ball ready for the labour I visualised a serene and weightless water birth. We were meant to be having a late July baby. And then we waited. And waited. And waited.

Getting to 41+1 was one of the strangest and frankly more stressful experiences of my life – waking up still pregnant, going to bed still pregnant, and aware that dozens of people were holding their breath and waiting for my body to do something. It was hot and I felt huge, but I tried my best to enjoy my bump, knowing I would never have another.

I got unhelpfully worried about the “due date” and possibility of being advised to have an induction, and it took all my hypnobirthing knowledge and resilience to navigate this. I looked at the new draft NICE guideline around induction, and the research that informed it. I eventually decided to book an additional private scan for reassurance and to pencil a ‘ back-stop’ induction, promising myself I could cancel it if it didn’t feel right. I tried my best to enjoy each day as it came.

On the 2nd of August, I decided to pop into the birth centre for a sweep, which felt comfortable, proactive and useful. As we settled for lunch at a favourite restaurant near the birth centre at around 1.30pm, I felt my first contractions.

Expecting a slow start to the labour, I decided to carry on enjoying lunch, drive home, and keep my plan to have a friend round for a cup of tea. Once she left at around 5pm, I went to our bedroom to get into the zone, bouncing on the ball, listening to music and enjoying my aromatherapy diffuser. I had in mind that we’d probably go into the birth centre around 9pm and the baby would be born in the small hours of the following day.

The labour progressed really, really nicely. Looking back, I know now that I disappeared so quickly and peacefully into my own head that I didn’t notice myself do it. And then it was 8.15pm and I watched the clock as I had three contractions that were only 2 minutes apart. And I realised I was bearing down at the peak of each contraction. Time to go!

I went to the bathroom before we set off, looked at myself in the mirror and pondered staying there, putting some towels on the floor and having an unplanned – and possibly unattended – home birth. However, I knew that we needed to get as close to the birth centre as we could, in case any complications arose. As we set off, my dad driving and my husband with me on the back seat, my waters broke and I knew we wouldn’t make it in time.

With my first labour, my one regret had been feeling overwhelmed by the midwives’ guided pushing right at the end – this time, I really wanted to let my body take its time, and to feel the “foetal ejection reflex” I’d read so much about. I also really wanted to give birth in the pool. I got one wish, but not the other.

As we sped across London, I could feel my baby moving down and my contractions change. I didn’t feel any pain, just the tremendous and involuntary work of my body pushing. I put my hands down and felt the head crowning, and knew we were still 10 minutes away. I lowered myself gently into my seat to slow the baby down.

We finally screeched to a halt outside the birth centre and put the hazard lights on. My husband rushed in to find help. I carefully took my earbuds out, put them in their case and handed them to my dad. Time stood still. A woman leant through the car door and said “Hello, my name is Emily, and I’m one of the midwives”. Then she reached over and scooped Oscar onto my chest. It was 9.08pm.

He was perfect (of course), and the rush of love and relief I felt was immense. He was pink, alert and squeaking, so I knew instantly that he was well. A wheelchair was brought round to my car door, and I had the unusual experience of standing in a central London street holding a newborn baby still attached by the umbilical cord, while someone else pulled up my leggings. We were wheeled up to the birth centre for a blissful first night, then headed home the following day.

Before I left, a midwife asked how I felt about giving birth in the car, something that she recognised could be traumatic for some women. I’ve thought a lot about whether my experience was in any way “traumatic”, and have realised that it wasn’t, because there was no point at which I was frightened for myself or Oscar, or needed pain relief that I couldn’t access. The only potentially traumatic aspect is the knowledge that I was tempted to stay at home, and the thought of what might have happened had one or other of us needed help before an ambulance arrived.

The fact that I made the right plans and decisions before – and during – Oscar’s arrival is testament to your fabulous hypnobirthing course that we had attended three years previously, and the catch-up call we had during our second pregnancy. We are so grateful to you, Kat, for the incredibly positive impact you have had on our lives and those of our children. Thank you.