Við gerðum þetta saman. We did this together.
It all started on May 21st. For a few days, I felt my body preparing. I kept losing blood, my
mucus plug had come out. I also noticed a sudden drop in my energy which made me slow
down. Up until then, I had been feeling strong and full of life, even at 41 weeks. I was still
going to yoga with at Jógasetrið almost daily toward the end. That practice helped me
connect with myself, my baby, and stay mentally focused on birth which usually isn’t my
strongest skill.
That day, I had my antenatal appointment at Fæðingarheimili Reykjavíkur and received some
acupuncture. I had the option of a membrane sweep but chose not to, my intuition told me
to trust my body and let things unfold naturally. We had already been through some false
starts that night: contractions would come and go only to vanish by midday. Each time, we
would get hopeful, and each time, it would fade.
Around 7 PM, we had a friend over for dinner. I started feeling contractions again, about every
10–15 minutes. We didn’t make much of it and even watched one of our usual shows. When
our friend left, we noticed the contractions were continuing. It had already been three hours,
which was much longer than the previous false alarms. That’s when we began to believe it. I
lay down to rest for a bit, but the contractions kept coming. We decided to take our dog,
Ostur, for a walk. Usually, walking would stop the contractions but not this time. They started
coming closer together, so we went back home. From that point, I began putting into practice
everything I’d prepared for: breathing, staying calm, changing position. Aurel was completely
present, supporting me in every way. We had taken the paranámskeið course together, so he
knew how to guide me through each contraction. Around midnight, he called FH to let them
know. I took a long, hot shower, which helped but also made me start shaking. They were
getting more intense, below five minutes apart but still irregular. I told Aurel I wanted to be
around the midwife in case things progress quickly. At 1:30 AM, he called again, and we were
told to come in.
The drive was short, only five minutes, but incredibly emotional. I remember thinking: this is
it. No matter what happens next, we’ll come back home with our baby.
When we arrived, Emma observed how we were working through the contractions. Aurel was
amazing, holding my hand, giving me water, helping me breath and giving gentle touch.
Quickly, I asked to be checked, even though I feared I might be disappointed. Emma told me
I was 3 cm dilated, and that my cervix was softening, it was just the beginning… She said it
in such a gentle and reassuring way and offered me a painkiller so I could try to rest. I started
to doubt myself. Could I really do this without stronger medication. But I took the painkiller,
lay down, and managed about 45 minutes of rest. Aurel stayed close to me the entire time,
and when I woke up, I felt a bit better with some more energy. The contractions had eased
slightly. I started moving again, leaning against walls, rocking on all fours, Emma gave me a
reboso massage. It was the middle of the night; it was bright outside. It was just the three of
us in FH: Emma, Aurel, and me. It felt intimate and calm. I had some moments of fear and
doubt, wondering if I would need to transfer to the hospital. I knew I was open to a change of
plan, if necessary, but deep down I hoped I could stay in this special place, so well
supported.
I asked to get in the hot tub. When I reached for my swimsuit, I realized I didn’t care about
being naked, I just needed relief. The warm water helped, but eventually the doubts came
back. I told Aurel I wasn’t sure I could keep going. He reassured me and told me not to think
too far ahead, to stay in the moment. He also reminded me that I still had access to laughing
gas if I needed it. That helped. I slowly found my rhythm again and slipped into some rest
mode in between contractions. Aurel was by my side constantly, feeding me apple slices,
and always anticipating what I needed. He only left once or twice, and I noticed the
difference immediately when he wasn’t there, contractions were just much stronger and
harder to manage.
Around 5 am maybe, I was checked again: only 4 cm, but much softer. That gave me hope.
We tried again some mobility exercises out of the water, then I returned to the tub. I asked
for the gas knowing it was my last card. After that, I lost track of time. I closed my eyes,
continued to breathe deeply with long exhalation, relax my jaw, repeat some mantras in my
head. I hardly spoke. Pretty early on, I used single word, only in French or even sign language
to ask for water. Aurel was translating in polite English what I needed to the midwifes. We
had brought energy gels, what I usually take for long endurance runs, and it gave me a great
boost toward the end when I could not eat anymore.
I was deep in my bubble focused on my breathing. Counting each breath until the peak of
the wave then resting as much as I could in between waves. At 8 AM, the midwife shift
changed. I hardly noticed, but they were now two midwives, Hafdis and Elfa, in the room and
I knew that must mean I was getting close.
Around 9 AM, they checked me again: 9 cm. Hafdis gently said this was the most intense
part. The contractions were strong and very close together, but I was encouraged by the idea
that pushing would come soon. That kept me going. It felt like it happened quickly, though
Aurel later told me it didn’t feel fast at all from his perspective, he was lightheaded at times
from the intensity.
When I felt the urge to push, it was a totally different feeling. I got out of the tub and onto the
bed on all fours. Suddenly, I panicked. The pressure surprised me, and I feared tearing. I got
stuck in my mind, thinking I couldn’t do it. Even though they were encouraging me, I lost
control of my breathing and lost trust in myself. I couldn’t let go of the gas, but I needed to
do so to push properly. After about 30 minutes of inner struggle, I pulled myself together. I
decide to use gravity and used the birth support rope. It helped me to understand the
pushing. After about 20 minutes, I didn’t have any energy left in my leg to stay in that position.
I shifted positions, using Hafdis’s advice I went back on all fourth then on my side, with one
leg raised. Hafdis held a warm compress for counterpressure as I pushed. I asked if my
pushing was working, I needed guidance, and they told me to touch his head. He was right
there, just half a finger away! That gave me a new wave of determination. They said I had
maximum 30-45 min left, but I was determined to make it happen sooner and I did.
Hafdís and Elfa joked about his hair, he had a lot, and pretended they were pulling him out by
it. There’s a French saying that if you have bad acid reflux during pregnancy, it means your
baby has a lot of hair. Aurel and I had joked about that throughout the pregnancy, so their
comment made me smile, even in that intense moment.
Then came the ring of fire. It was intense, yes, but not the worst part, more of a relief. I knew
I was nearly done. I gave everything I had left in me. Two final pushes, and he was out.
At 11:44 AM, after 17 hours of labor, he was born and placed on my chest. He struggled a bit
with his breathing at first. The midwives gave him oxygen, but they were so calm that we
stayed calm too. After 20 or 30 minutes, everything was fine. I was so weak, but completely
at peace, holding him against me. Aurel lay down next to us. We ate like two zombies, staring
at our baby, trying to process what had just happened. It only fully hit me the next morning,
watching Isak sleep next to Aurel.
Now, two weeks later, I’m writing this from our sofa with Isak asleep beside me. My recovery
has gone so well and was quick. I just had two small, extremely superficial tears, despite my
fears. It turns out that long, gradual pushing gave my body time to adapt. We have a healthy
baby boy, and I’m so proud. Of my body, of the preparation I did, of how I stayed in the
moment. Pregnancy yoga made such a difference; I cannot recommend it more regardless
of the kind of birth you hope for. I’m incredibly grateful to Aurel, who was with me every
second, steady and caring. I truly couldn’t have done it without him. And I’m proud of Isak,
too. He’s so tiny, yet already so strong. Throughout the entire birth, he kept a perfect
heartbeat even during the most intense moments. Huge thanks to the midwives Emma,
Hafdis and Elfa. I couldn’t have asked for better care: three empathetic, kind, professional
women who supported me exactly the way I needed. Even though it lasted longer than I had
hoped, I pushed my body to incredible and unknown limits, and it was all worth it for me,
Isak, and Aurel. The depth of our bonding, the positive feelings I carry now, and the outcome,
our healthy, beautiful Isak, made it more than worth it.