All my life I always thought that if I ever had a baby, it would be born in hospital. I used to pass the maternity hospital in which I was born and think of the day my own baby might be born there.

Then I came across a book called Birth Tides, by Marie O'Connor, a collection of experiences of some Irish women who have given birth at home. Before I had finished the first chapter I knew that this was for me.

When I discovered I was pregnant and went to my doctor, he asked the usual question "Where do you want to go..", meaning what hospital. When I said I wanted to have my baby at home he threw his eyes up to heaven, then gave me the standard lecture on how dangerous home birth was in his opinion.. "You're putting your baby's life at risk...", "What if something goes wrong?", "What if you have to have an emergency caesarean?" He knew me well enough to know that none of this would sway me in the least, and so gave me the telephone number of the Irish Home Birth Association.

I called them and got names and telephone numbers of independent midwives. I called the first one on the list, Kate Spillane, who also happened to be the one nearest to where we live. Kate was able to take me on - we were in business! She made her first visit when I was about 12 weeks pregnant and stayed for hours. We got on really well, but - most importantly - I knew I could trust this woman to help safely deliver our baby.

At first, Kate made monthly visits to our house. Then fortnightly visits, then weekly for the last few weeks. Each visit she would answer any questions, offer advice, check everything was OK and let us listen to the baby's heartbeat with the "Doppler". Her manner was so confident and reassuring, I always felt that giving birth at home would be the right way for me.

At about seven months into the pregnancy, Kate was a little worried that the baby was sitting breech. She suggested that I go for a scan, just to make quite sure that "he" was head down. Before I had the scan, I was sure I was carrying a boy. The doctor asked if we wanted to know what sex the baby was and I instantly said "No!". But as he was pointing out body parts on the monitor to Ken, I heard him say "his leg", which convinced me this was a boy.

Our baby was due on Tuesday 19th November 1996. I felt sure that the arrival wouldn't be much longer after that date because I was so big, and had been having Braxton Hicks contractions for a few weeks. The pool was set up in our front room, looking kind of useless without water. I bought some Christmas tree fairy lights and hung them up in the room. We scrubbed the house from top to bottom. In the hope that something might shift, I scrubbed the kitchen floor, on my knees, a couple of times. I insisted in scouring out the fridge, tidying cupboards, cleaning under the bed. Ken would mutter"...the baby's probably not going to be born under the bed, you know..."

At 6am on the morning of that actual Tuesday, I got up to get something to eat, While standing in the kitchen I felt a trickle down my leg and a splash on the floor. I moved a few steps. Another few splashes. I giggled to myself because I was so excited. I knew that something was finally happening. I woke Ken and told him my waters had broken and we hugged each other. I thought that maybe this baby would be born before the day was out, and called parents and family to tell them the news. At about 9am I called Kate, and Ken called work to say he wouldn't be coming in for a while. Kate told us to relax and enjoy the time together and call her again when I started having regular contractions. That day there was a huge storm with raging winds and thunder and lightning. I thought it was an appropriate sign for the birth of a baby. We wrapped up well and went for a long walk in the pouring rain. I had a constant trickle of amniotic fluid, one or two weak contractions and lots and lots of kicks, but nothing else. Kate called later on to see if there was any news and didn't seem remotely bothered by the fact that the baby wasn't showing any signs of moving. She said she wouldn't call to see me because the temptation to examine (to see if I was dilated) would be too great, and once she had examined me we would be on a time limit until labour began. I put a little vest and babygro on the radiator to warm up.

By the end of the day I was feeling really disappointed, and was tempted to stay up and see if labour might start rather than going to bed. We decided the sensible thing was to get some sleep.

Wednesday came and still nothing happened. We watched videos, read newspapers, did the crossword. Went for another walk. Again I had one or two contractions about 40 minutes apart, then nothing. I still had a steady trickle of clear fluid but I knew this wasn't labour. Kate called a couple of times. Each time she'd tell me not to lose heart, that this does happen from time to time, and the baby would arrive when he was good and ready. The cats were delighted - we were at home all day so they had lots of laps to sit on.

Thursday arrived. I started making cookies and before I knew it I had turned out 10 dozen. They'd do for the visitors, I thought. I scrubbed the kitchen floor again. After that, more walking. We tried to vary the route in case we started to look suspicious walking up and down outside the prison near where we live. More videos. More crosswords. More TV. I knew that if I was having a hospital birth I would have been induced and the baby would probably have been born by now.

By Friday we were starting to despair. From time to time I would get worried, especially when people called and said "Are you sure that this is OK?" But I instinctively knew that things were OK. The baby was still kicking away and the fluid was still clear. I never considered going in to hospital. It just wasn't an option, unless there was a serious medical reason. Kate still stayed away, phoning regularly. She suggested I talk to another of her patients who had a similar experience, to keep my hopes up. We walked and walked, taking different routes every time we went outdoors.

By Saturday, we were getting fed up of crosswords and had watched most of the watchable videos in the video shop. We started playing computer games, just for something new to do. We drove to the Phoenix Park and climbed the biggest hill - Magazine Fort. I would have gone roller skating if I thought it would help.

Day 6, Sunday, arrived. I got up at about 9am and went to the bathroom. I was horrified to see that the fluid was now a pale green colour, and realised that this was probably meconium. My heart sank as I thought this would probably mean hospital if this baby wasn't born soon. I rang Kate, who still sounded remarkably calm. She said she'd be over in an hour and a half. Then at about 12am I had a couple of contractions, and then a couple more. They were regular, and a little stronger than the Braxton Hicks. I knew I was in labour. We lit the fire and put some essential oils in the burner.

Kate arrived and listened to the baby's heartbeat, which was strong and regular. For the first couple of hours, the contractions were like period pains. Not particularly painful, just gripping sensations, about twenty minutes apart most of the time. I stood during each contraction, hanging out of Ken, while swinging my hips. Kate monitored the baby's heartbeat regularly using the hand-held Doppler. When things didn't seem to be progressing much, Kate suggested that I go to bed and rest for a while, in case we were in for a long one. Ken and myself went up to bed and lay down. I did rest for a while, but couldn't sleep. We switched on the Christmas tree lights and put on some music. I had lined up a few favourite CDs of new age-ish relaxing music.

At about 5pm the contractions stepped up a gear and began to be quite painful. I was up again and walking around. I tried leaning over the kitchen table for a while. Sometimes I bent one knee and sort of half-squatted during contractions. Kate decided it was time to start filling the pool. None of the hosepipe connections fitted the kitchen tap, and for a while there was a lot of running up and down the stairs until Ken finally managed to attach the tubing onto the shower hose. The hot water immersion had been switched on full for six days, so there was one full tank of scalding water to get us started. We had a plastic bubblewrap cover which sat on top of the water as the level rose, to keep it warm. After the tank had reheated we filled the pool up a little more and decided that the level looked about right.

I got really emotional at one stage when I realised that this was it. I just felt so happy to be having a baby and that Ken was there with me for the whole journey. I hugged and kissed him and told him how much I loved him. The contractions started coming closer together and were a lot more painful. I was starting to make a lot more noise! Kate said that she'd examine me and see if it was OK for me to get into the pool. I couldn't believe it when she told me that I was only 1cm dilated. I knew that I should wait until I was at least 5cm, but because I was in so much pain Kate agreed that I could get in for a while and see what happened. The water felt so unbelievably good, it was like a hot bath after running a marathon. I sank down and closed my eyes and felt completely safe. I could sit leaning against the side of the pool between contractions and then flip over onto my knees when I felt a contraction coming and hold on to Ken who knelt or sat up against the outside of the pool. The water supported my weight and made it so easy to move around. Every so often I realised the music had finished and asked for more "Whales in the Forest, or whatever it's called..."

I have no real idea of how much time passed until Kate said that it might be better if I got out of the water for a while, as I seemed to be stuck at one part of the labour without progressing. This was one of the worst parts of the labour - I didn't want to move and, once I stood up, the pain bearing down on my cervix was excruciating. I stayed bent over at a 90 degree angle and Ken and Kate helped me get out of the pool and onto the floor. Ken then sat on the sofa and I knelt on the floor between his knees and put my head on his lap. The contractions felt much more painful out of the water. Kate suggested putting on some clothes and going for a short walk to speed things up, but I knew that was completely out of the question. I just didn't want to leave the safety of the house and I hated the idea of leaning up against walls in our cosy little neighbourhood, yelling during contractions!

I don't know how long I spent in that position - maybe an hour - before Kate examined me again. The examination was quite painful and seemed to take ages. I knew from the fact that she wasn't saying anything that the news wasn't good. "...Well, you're much more effaced", she said. In other words I wasn't more dilated. Eventually she agreed that I could get back in the pool again. Even though I wasn't dilating, something was definitely happening. The contractions were getting more and more painful and I seemed to get more fuzzy-headed as time passed. Once back in the pool most of the rest of the labour was a haze through the pain.

I was feeling really hot and very drowsy between contractions and began vomiting at regular intervals. Kate and Ken fetched bottles of glucose drinks from the fridge for me to sip between throwing up, and fed me teaspoons of honey. Every so often I looked at the clock and wondered - hoped - that my baby would be born before the day was out The contractions were incredibly painful, but there was always a break between each one, right to the end, so I always knew I'd have a break to recover before the next one started.

Midnight passed and Monday arrived. Even though I was practically delirious from the pain, I was still very sensitive to everything that happened in the room. Ken wasn't allowed to leave my side - if he moved I panicked. I gazed into the fire most of the time, and stared at a matchstick and a little piece of white plastic that were on the floor. I roared and yelled during contractions. At one point, face buried in the side of the pool, I could hear Ken and Kate whispering over me, Ken asking if this was normal and did Kate think I was OK.

I spent most of the time on my knees, hanging onto Ken who kneeled up against the outside of the pool. In this position I could spread my legs out behind me in the pool, so that I was almost floating in the water. Every so often Kate would ask me if I could stand up so she could monitor the baby's heartbeat with the Doppler, but I knew I couldn't bear the pain of standing up. She didn't press, but just asked if the baby was OK and I'd say "he's fine". I knew "he" was OK, I never felt at any stage during the labour that the baby was in distress or trouble.

I said "Oh God..." a LOT! In my mind, all I could think of was "Never, NEVER again....", but I wouldn't say it aloud, in case someone might hold me to it. Only one time can I remember thinking I wish there was something they could give me for the pain, but I knew medication was simply not available so I didn't bother asking. At about 2am I said "I want to go home..." in a whingey voice, while Kate and Ken laughed at me. I was at home, in the best possible place I could be, but I just wanted to get away from that pain. I realise now this was probably transition, as it wasn't too long before Kate said it was time to push. I had started involuntarily pushing already, but I was so out of it I didn't notice this happening. One of our cats, who had been curled up on the sofa until now, jumped up and started vomiting everywhere. I think she was in shock!

However painful the contractions were previous to this, pushing felt much, much worse. I managed two pushes with each contraction and could feel the head moving down but halfway through the third push the contraction subsided and the baby seemed to spring back each time. 3am passed. Kate coached me all of the time. Each contraction she kept saying "he'll be born with this one, we're nearly there!". But he wasn't, and I was starting to despair. Kate tried to get me to feel the head just before crowning, but I was oblivious to what was actually happening. I think I had forgotten that I was actually having a baby. I heard her say "it's going to be a big stretch Ruth, a very big stretch". I continued to push and felt a kick on my bottom and a gurgling noise that a baby makes coming from behind me. I didn't even realise that the baby was out - shot out behind me under the water, and was scooped out by Kate. I couldn't believe it! I started to laugh and laugh and laugh! I was completely overjoyed - it was a baby!

It was 3.40am and the baby we had been expecting - a dark, curly-haired boy - turned out to be a huge red-haired girl. She had big chubby cheeks and really fair skin and she opened her eyes and just looked around, taking it all in, without so much as a whimper. Kate tried to pass her to me and I had to stand up out of the water to lift my leg over the cord, because it was so short I took her into my arms and looked at Ken, who had tears in his eyes and we laughed and laughed and the room was filled with an enormous energy and noise. We hugged each other and stared at Hazel. That moment of sheer disbelief at what had just taken place was without comparison. I just couldn't believe that this baby had come out of me - there was now another person in the room. After a while Kate turned up the lights in the room, and clamped the cord. When it had stopped beating Ken cut it. There was a knock on the front door and we stopped in total silence and looked at each other. Who on earth was going to knock on our door at 4am? Ken shouted out "who is it?" and the voice was that of our next door neighbour, who wanted to know if I was OK. He hadn't even known that I was in labour but his dog kept howling every time I roared. I shouted back "it's OK, we're just having a baby!" and he left.

Once the cord was cut, I handed Hazel over to Ken and stood up out of the water to deliver the placenta. I just coughed and out it came (and it's still in a lunchbox in our freezer...) I stepped out of the pool and then realised how shaky I was feeling. The blood drained from my head and I began to feel quite faint. Kate covered the sofa with sheets and wrapped a duvet around me and I laid down. Hazel was weighed and it became clear - along with the short cord - just why things had progressed the way they did. She was 9lbs 10 ozs, and 22 inches long. My first thought was, how will I ever have another baby if it might be bigger than this one... Ken handed Hazel back and she latched on straight away - I nearly hit the roof! This baby wasn't wasting any time!

I was feeling weaker and weaker and kept saying I had to lie down. I knew I had lost a lot of blood, the birthing pool was like an abattoir. They managed to get me onto my feet and shuffle me upstairs to bed. Once I was lying down things didn't seem too bad. We took the clothes that had been warming on the radiator for six days, and started to dress Hazel. Of course she was far too big for them! Even the nappy seemed small as Kate said "this thing is like a bikini on her...!". Once we had sorted out something for a Hazel-sized baby, Ken and myself snuggled up in bed together, with Hazel in the middle and it felt like she had always been there. We gazed at her and how perfect she was. She slept, but we were too excited and exhausted to rest.

I presumed I probably had some sort of a perineal damage. Kate examined me and, in her usual non-alarmist way, said "just a small tear". She went to rest for a while and left us alone for an hour or so with our little treasure. Later on she came back to repair the damage. Of course I asked how bad it was, and Kate got Ken to have a look. He put on a brave face and lied, even though I'm sure he went pale in the face when he looked. Kate wouldn't say how many stitches, but I lost count after about 10. It seemed so unfair that I should have to experience any more discomfort after all that pain and in a way it was one of the worst parts of the birth. Once daylight came we started making calls and our families began to arrive by lunchtime.

A local newspaper recently did a short interview with me about my birth experience, but the article that appeared was heavily edited. To read it you would think that having a home birth was a piece of cake. It would be unfair to mislead people like that. I can't lie and say that unmedicated childbirth wasn't painful for me. It was extremely painful. But I now know that the kind of labour I had - waters breaking six days before labour, 16 hour labour, big baby, short cord, slow dilatation - would definitely have meant a c-section in a hospital setting. I couldn't imagine ever having a baby anywhere else than at home. I am immensely proud of my experience and I wouldn't swap it for the world.

Mail me at Ruth.Gallagher@ucd.ie