{Birth Story} Mabel June — A Birth That Didn’t Wait
This birth will stay with me for a long time.
It was the fastest I have ever witnessed — unfolding in a matter of minutes, with no pause between intensity and arrival.
We had spoken about it beforehand, about how quickly this baby might come… and somehow, everything aligned.
I arrived just in time.
What makes this story even more special is that it was captured entirely on film — imperfect, soft, and honest, just like birth itself.
On April 1st, I fooled a few people who had been asking ‘baby yet?’ each morning for several days. Your siblings had come before 40 weeks you see.
But the trick was on me. Morning after April morning, I was still making school lunch, still doing the daycare and school drop-off. I’d wake in shock each morning, surprised to find I’d slept through the night without a contraction to wake me. Apart from the lunchboxes, I didn’t care too much. I enjoyed the extra time to myself, my walks at Manly Dam but I was still so confused that I was ‘yep, still pregnant’ — what was said at the school gate each morning.
I only started to get anxious when the hospital wanted to start talking about an induction date. Their preference was to induce at 40 plus 7. I said I’d like to wait until I was 40 plus 11. I was quite certain by this point that you must be a boy. What female would drag their feet like that around a deadline?
Uncle Noah and John came for dinner while G-Pop was staying with us. They brought beef stroganoff for dinner one night as I was over cooking by this point. G-Pop had been installing some of the last joinery he’d made that day at our house.
After Noah and Jon went home, and the others were in bed, I studied the moon from the green room. It wasn’t full I don’t think, but it was very bright. It scattered silver light all over the courtyard plants. I needed to move my hips more that evening, so I did a few stretches. I went to bed. One last day of school term tomorrow.
I woke up earlier than usual, April 11th. Still pregnant. One last lunchbox and school drop off before school holidays started. At least I’d get to see the Easter Hat parade.
4.50am.
I felt a contraction.
It had some strength to it, and they kept coming at a regular pace. I timed them — seemingly too close together but I called the hospital all the same. Who knew how quickly a third baby might arrive.
Michael showered, and so did I, but upstairs because I couldn’t wait for him to finish. To help with the pain, to get in the zone. The contractions were getting longer but no further apart.
I called the hospital again and said I needed to come in.
I couldn’t make it down the stairs without needing to stop for contractions. I pulled together the last items, hurrying Michael, who found the time to make a coffee to my despair. No time to tell G-Pop though.
Off we went.
In through the lobby.
More contractions.
In the lift.
Outside the lift.
I could tell this wasn’t going to take very long.
Amanda, my midwife came in.
I was in the bath, facing Michael, holding his hands. The contractions were strong, the breaks were brief.
And then — everything shifted.
Nadia came in, and pulled out her camera instantly.
I felt the need to push.
They said not to — but why would I not trust my body in that moment?
A head was born.
The next push, you pushed yourself out into the bath.
6.32am.
You screamed, louder than your siblings had.
Amanda lifted you gently and placed you into my arms.
When asked your gender, Michael guessed female — but wanted a second opinion through the blur of water, cords and towels.
There had been no time to set up music.
No time for anything, really.
And yet, you were here.
You were allowed to stay with me.
Floating in the bath.
Finding my breast.
Eyes wide open.
No rush. No doctors flooding the room.
Just us.
I couldn’t stop looking at your eyes as they looked up at me.
G-Pop called Michael to check that we’d gone to the hospital.
“We have,” he said.
“We’ve got a new granddaughter for you to meet already.”
After a while, with wobbly legs, we moved to the bed.
Everyone was elevated by your birth.
Complication-free. Hands-off. Magical.
The doctor came to do some minor stitches — but not before you managed to do the most almighty of poos all over my stomach.
We were such a mess it was back to the shower for both of us.
We stayed in that beautiful room for the day as the ward was full, and we soaked you in.
Your brother and sister came charging in not long after 3pm.
Their second time entering the space they were both born in — this time to meet you.
Harry said,
“I love having a baby sister. And I love having a big sister.”
He wasn’t disappointed in the slightest that you weren’t the boy he’d hoped for.
The 10-day wait had been long.
But your arrival was anything but.
You didn’t have a name at first.
We sat with it. Tested a few. Let it unfold, just like you had.
Until we found the one that felt right.
Mabel June.
This birth was captured entirely on film — a medium that mirrors birth itself: imperfect, raw, and deeply honest.
If you’re expecting and feel drawn to documenting your own story, I would love to be there. follow this link for more info: Birth story