Colette
Welcome To the World
Tommy James Wilcox
Estimated Due Date - 14th March 2025
Born 27th of March 2025
Weighing 9 lb 4oz (4.2 kg)
Measuring 53 cm in length
Head circumference: 36 cm
"Sometimes we don’t feel brave enough to chase our dreams—but the ones meant for us have a quiet way of finding us” – Krista Mccrimmon – Doula
My beautiful client Colette, her husband Luke, and their children Ollie and Daisy have welcomed their sweet baby boy, Tommy James Wilcox into their family, born in the early hours of the early morning on the 27th of March 2025.
This birth holds such a tender and special place in my heart. It’s the third time I’ve stood beside Colette as she brought one of her beautiful babies into the world—and with each birth, I’ve witnessed her strength, her love, and the quiet power that lives within her.
For this birth Colette was reaching for something she had carried in her heart since Ollie’s birth — The possibility of a vaginal birth after two caesareans.
It wasn’t a simple decision. Through the early months of her pregnancy, Colette moved between the idea of a planned caesarean and the possibility of a VBAC. There were layers to it—memories to revisit, fears to face, and practical realities to weigh up. Both paths held their own pros and cons. Both asked something of her.
I watched her sit with all of it—all the unknowns and fears. I know it wasn’t easy. Colette had to ask herself what she wanted, but also consider how she might feel if things didn’t unfold the way she hoped. If she chose to try for a vaginal birth and it ended in another caesarean, how would that land in her heart? What would that mean for her story? But then—what if she never tried? How would that sit with her in the days and years to come, with all the quiet what-ifs still echoing?
Colette had a strong circle around her—Luke, her mum Simone, her obstetrician, and me. All of us believed in her. If her labour came on spontaneously, we felt strongly that her body could do it. But this was never about us—it was Colette’s decision to make. Quietly, I held the belief that she could birth her baby vaginally. But more than that, I wanted her to feel completely held, no matter what road she chose.
My hope for Colette was that she could look at this birth through the lens of: What would I do if I wasn’t afraid?
Colette moved through her pregnancy feeling healthy and well. She looked after herself the best she could, even with two little ones already taking up so much of her heart and time. She saw her chiropractor regularly and committed to the Spinning Babies exercises, which helped keep the usual pregnancy aches and niggles at bay.
Then in the third trimester, she began experiencing sudden and intense pain—and was told she had kidney stones. There was little that could be done while pregnant, and the thought of going into labour with that kind of pain in the background was confronting. Understandably, it shook her confidence a little.
But in true Colette fashion, she faced it. She made changes to her diet, cared for herself with even more intention, and eventually, the pain settled. The stones became a quiet companion rather than a threat.
Through it all, she kept going. With clarity, with courage. Remembering what mattered most.
You are strong enough to see this through my birthing goddess.
“As much as we know about birth, we know nothing about a particular birth it will unfold in its own unique way”. – Rhea Dempsey
As 40 weeks came into view, Colette began to feel all the signs that her body was getting ready for labour. I think this was the final sign she’d been waiting for. After months of sitting with her thoughts, weighing her options, and working through so many emotions—Colette was ready. She was standing in her choice with quiet confidence. With the biggest smile, she said she was going for her VBAC. And just like that, we were all smiling too—feeling hopeful, excited, and full of belief for what was to come.
With hindsight, we know that Colette’s babies tend to enjoy the comfort of their five-star accommodation well past 40 weeks —often hanging out until 42 weeks or more. Colette was mentally prepared to wait until 42 weeks, maybe just a little over, for this little one to decide the time was right. But she also knew in herself that she wasn’t keen to keep going all the way to 43 weeks. It was a balance of patience and knowing her own limits.
All the appointments with her obstetrician were positive, her baby was very happy, he was also sitting nice and low in her pelvis.
40 weeks and three days
17th March – At her check-up with Helen, everything was looking good. Baby was in an anterior position, and there was no reason not to keep hoping for spontaneous labour. With access to a waterbirth confirmed, all her stars were aligning. But time was ticking. Colette had always known she didn’t want to go to 43weeks. The option of a caesarean was still an option sitting in the background.
On the evening of March 20th, Colette thinks she may have had a hind leak or maybe extra fluids of pregnancy. She plans to see how the evening unfolds, as it’s now approaching 10:30 pm and she’s starting to feel mild sensations. Colette trusts her body and isn’t concerned about what will happen next, knowing it will unfold in its own time. Hopefully, overnight things will pick up. In the meantime, we’re finalising the details of her birth preferences, so we’ll be fully prepared when the time comes.
21st March – Nothing else eventuated overnight. Colette is still pregnant and patiently waiting.
24th March –
Colette is having lots of signs that her baby is getting ready, but at 40 weeks and 10 days, she is still patiently waiting. She had her final chiropractor appointment recently, telling him, "I'm not coming back!" After each session, he would say, "I’m sure I won’t see you again" – and yet, here we still are. Colette’s baby is very happy just where he is.
What their baby doesn’t realise is that he’s now on a bit of a time schedule. If Colette hasn’t had her baby by Thursday this week, a caesarean is planned.
Colette and I caught up this morning – I visited her at home and placed some acupressure needles in her ears (for calming) and in her hands and feet (to help boost oxytocin and encourage the cervix to soften and open). Colette has done everything within her power to prepare her body and mind for her baby’s birth. We keep in good spirits as if you don’t hold onto hope you have nothing.
Tomorrow, we will be meeting with her obstetrician to discuss her options. Colette is very clear that she doesn’t want to move to a caesarean on Thursday without first trying everything possible to encourage labour. We’ll be talking about stretch and sweeps, breaking her waters, and other induction options.
For Colette’s mental and physical wellbeing, it’s so important she knows she has done absolutely everything she could. She hasn’t come this far to give up now — and if needed, she is ready to use the tools of the medical system to help her achieve the birth her heart, mind, and body deserve.
41 weeks and 4 days
25th of March
I joined Colette and Luke for their appointment today. It was confirmed that Colette’s waters hadn’t broken, and their baby was looking very happy – with plenty of amniotic fluid and good blood flow to the placenta. Colette has had so many signs that her body is ready for labour, and she’s been having mild contractions for a while now, which have become more frequent this week.
Colette was going to choose to have a stretch and sweep today, and we went into the appointment feeling hopeful. We discussed all the options going forward and genuinely believed that her cervix would be favourable. But when Helen checked, it was still closed, and she wasn’t able to perform the sweep. It was a hard moment — so disappointing for Colette. She was incredibly brave, with just a few quiet tears in her eyes. Honestly, every heart in the room broke for her. We’ve all held so much hope that labour would begin on its own.
Helen gently suggested that Colette may be someone whose natural gestation is closer to 43 weeks, but Colette doesn’t feel comfortable going too far beyond 42. Colette sadly agrees to sign the paperwork for a caesarean that has been temporarily booked for this Thursday. She then voices she isn’t ready to have the caesarean on Thursday. Helen kindly offered to push it to Friday to give us a little more time — Colette will return on Thursday for one more appointment in case something has changed.
We also learned today that baby Wilcox has moved into a more posterior position, which could be one reason labour hasn’t yet begun spontaneously.
We left the appointment feeling more sombre than when we arrived. We carried so much hope into that room. And while we are beginning to prepare mentally for the possibility of a caesarean, we are not giving in. After a coffee and a debrief, Colette — always such a good sport — let me place some acupressure needles on her little toes right there at the car, to encourage baby to rotate from posterior. Later in the day I also dropped off two moxa sticks with instructions for Luke to use the optimal positioning points, something they’re already familiar with after using moxa for labour preparation points in recent weeks.
Now, we wait. And we trust. The universe will guide the way — even if the path isn’t the one we had imagined. Sometimes, what is meant to be doesn’t look quite like the dream we’ve carried for months. But I trust that whatever unfolds will be exactly what Colette and her baby need.
Later that evening, Colette threw her dress over her head and declared she wasn’t doing the moxa or the spinning babies exercises. She was done. In her words: “I was a princess,” and she climbed into bed, heartbroken, saying, “That’s it. It’s over.” I will be having a cesarean.
We laughed at this later. It’s perfectly normal for Colette to feel this way — she has worked so hard, mentally and physically, and she deserves space to feel all of it. We will keep walking this path together, no matter which direction it turns.
At this point I think Mother Nature was rolling her eyes at us all. What would we truly know about any particular birth anyway.
Our cervix is not a crystal ball. Labour and birth are wondrous events — untouched by the expectations of the modern world or our endless thoughts about what may or might not happen. Birth exists in its own magical realm. It holds secrets. It has plans. And none of them are ours to know.
We, mere mortals, would do well to trust in what we cannot see or predict — to be patient, to listen to our instincts, and to stop believing our bodies are broken or bound to someone else’s timeline.
Then, and only then, might we begin to understand the true meaning of the gift that is life.
– Krista McCrimmon, Doula
26th March –
My phone softly buzzes at 4:47 am — the ever-considerate Colette and Luke didn’t want to wake me earlier.
We had all gone to sleep peacefully last night, not expecting anything after Colette’s appointment yesterday. But since 2am, she’s been experiencing cramping and has started to lose her mucus plug. The sensations have been building steadily over the last few hours, and now they’ve reached a point where she can’t sleep through them.
Oh, my goodness — miracles, mother nature... we’re all in a little bit of disbelief. Shell-shocked at how quickly everything had changed.
All Colette’s heart and soul have wanted was the chance to experience spontaneous labour — to see what her body and baby are capable of, on their own terms. And here it is.
She’s going to have a shower now and put on her TENS machine. She’ll know when it’s time for me to join them.
My heart is full. I whispered a quiet prayer in bed, to please watch over Colette and her precious baby in the hours ahead. xxx
I hear nothing more until the sun is up — My next update - Colette is still experiencing labour sensations, slow and steady.
Colette and I chat, and it is decided I will go to Pilates this morning.
It is 11 am. I’ve been to Pilates, and Colette has the clary sage diffuser going. She’s breathing through the sensations, using her breath to connect with her pelvic floor. Initially, some of her sensations were three minutes apart, but now they’ve settled into a steady rhythm — five minutes apart, lasting a little longer than earlier, with an intensity that’s asking more of her. She’s having to pause, stop talking, and really breathe through them.
I’m getting ready to head over now, and we’ll use some spinning baby’s techniques and the moxa stick.
We’re all still in disbelief that this has unfolded just as the path seemed to be shifting. But we’re back — and together, we hold no fear for whatever comes next.
Childbirth is an experience in a woman’s life that holds the power to transform her forever. Passing through these powerful gates – in her own way – remembering all the generations of women who walk with her… She is never alone." -Suzanne Arms
12.15 pm I am now with Colette and Luke at their home, the house is quiet and calm. I set up the diffuser and we decided that we will do our spinning babies three sisters, 10 lift and tucks and follow with the moxa stick. It feels good to know we have tools to make sure Colette’s body is balanced, helping mum and baby on their special journey.
I’m really proud of Colette. When she called the labour ward to let them know she was in labour, she calmly and confidently negotiated her wishes — letting them know she was happy to stay at home with Luke and me until she felt ready or was clearly in active labour.
It is crucial to Colette’s journey that has the confidence to be the driver of her birth, and today she’s steering it with such strength and conviction.
This is all we were hoping for — and whatever happens next, Colette has voiced that she is at peace with it.
2:45 pm — We’ve taken our time, gently working through all the body-balancing techniques. While doing the lift and tucks, I physically felt baby Wilcox give a big, beautiful wiggle under my hands. We both laughed — it was such a gorgeous moment. Hopefully, that little shimmy was baby finding an even better position.
Colette’s starting to feel some pressure in her bottom. We tell stories and laugh the afternoon away. She’s still in early labour — slow and steady.
Luke stepped out briefly to take Ollie to the doctor for a check on his finger he’d burnt earlier in the week. When he returned, he came bearing gifts — fresh chicken salad sandwiches and a chocolate frog each. The perfect lunch to set us up for a stroll around the neighbourhood, hoping a walk might help move things along. Currently, Colette’s sensations have moved to 10 min apart.
5:10 pm — After a leisurely walk around the streets — stopping whenever Colette needed to breathe through a sensation — we’re back home and she’s on the birth ball. Her body responded so well to the walk, and gravity seems to have worked a little magic.
As Colette gently moves on the ball, I place another round of acupressure needles. Her sensations are now coming consistently every five minutes. We’re all feeling happy, calm and positive.
I’ll head home for some dinner now, and we’ll see what the night brings for us.
7:00 pm — A phone update from Luke: after I left, the contractions spaced out to about 7–8 minutes apart. But not long after, they jumped to every 2 minutes… and then down to 1–2 minutes apart — and definitely stronger. I offered to come back over, but Colette, ever so thoughtful, was worried that if I did, the contractions might fizzle out and I’d have come back for nothing.
We agreed to wait another 30 minutes and reassess.
7:34 pm — Luke texts again: they’re getting closer and stronger. I laughed to myself and said, “I hope I’m not a jinx… but I think the doula needs to come on over!”
By 8 pm, I’m back with Colette and Luke, and it feels so good to return to this space with them. In the next hour, we move through “Shake the Apple Trees” and Colette sways gently, holding onto Luke. He is right there with her—steady, grounded, and completely present. It’s not just her hands he’s holding, it’s her heart too. There’s a deep love between them that fills the room.
We move to the shower. The warm water flows as Colette continues to sway, her breath steady, her movements intentional. She’s so calm and in tune with her body. The sensations are building, and she begins to feel more pressure in her bottom—a sign that baby might be moving down or rotating. All really encouraging signs.
I anoint her with birthing oils and the scent fills the space. There’s a peaceful rhythm to everything that’s unfolding. Colette is in control, breathing through each wave with quiet strength, and Luke never leaves her side. He’s supporting her in the most loving, gentle way, fully attuned to what she needs.
We are all aware of the hope in this room—Colette is working toward a vaginal birth after two caesareans. And yet, there’s no tension, no holding on too tightly. Just a calm acceptance that whatever unfolds in the hours ahead, she’s at peace with. That grounded trust in herself, in her body, and in her baby is beautiful to witness.
By 9.30 pm, Colette’s sensations are coming consistently—around every two minutes and lasting for about a minute. There’s a steady rhythm, and she’s still so calm, so present. Each wave is met with her breath and quiet focus, and Luke remains by her side, supporting her with such tenderness and care.
We decide it’s time to make a plan to head to the hospital. I call the labour ward—they’ve been expecting our call. I ask if there’s a room with a bath available. They let us know there isn’t one ready just yet, but if we can hold off coming in for half an hour, they’ll make it happen.
It’s the perfect plan. We’ve got some time to gather ourselves and make our way in slowly.
By 10.30 pm, we’ve made our way slowly to the labour ward, moving through each wave as we go. We’re greeted at the door by the warm, smiling face of one of the midwives on duty—a lovely welcome on this special day. I begin setting up the room, making it feel like our own little space. Fairy lights, the diffuser, soft lighting, and music playing gently in the background—Luke had come across a fabulous playlist earlier in the evening and it fits the mood perfectly.
I pull out an affirmation card to sit next to a battery candle, and the words catch all our attention: “Your body is made to do this.” It’s a simple phrase, but it lands deeply for Colette. This mantra will stay with her throughout the night.
Colette is looking forward to trying some gas for a little support and hopping in the shower. She’s breathing beautifully, swaying through each sensation, trying different positions to stay as comfortable as possible as labour continues to unfold in its own strong and steady rhythm.
We have a beautiful young midwife with us tonight—gentle, respectful, and so supportive of Colette’s choices. I feel proud, once again, of how confidently Colette is walking her own path. She declines a routine vaginal examination on arrival, feeling there’s no need just now. She’s open to the idea of having one later, perhaps when her obstetrician arrives. But for now, she’s listening to her body, and that’s enough.
By 11.30 pm, Colette decides to try the bath. The warm water is ready, waiting quietly for her, and she slips into it with a soft sigh. It’s soothing and supportive, exactly what she needs at this stage. Colette continues to move her body, to breathe and use the gas as she labours on. Colette agrees to continuous monitoring, trialling the new waterproof monitors that can stay in place while she’s in the bath—a good compromise that allows her freedom of movement and access to water for pain relief. These are all important comfort measures that all women deserve access to in labour.
Even in the depth of labour, Colette looks so beautiful—her skin glowing, her face soft and radiant. There’s a certain light that seems to surround women when they are in physiological labour, something hard to describe but unmistakable when you see it. It’s not just the light in the room—it’s the light within her. That quiet glow of someone doing exactly what they were made to do, with such calm, grounded presence.
Luke and I continue to support Colette, physically and emotionally doing everything we can to make her as comfortable as possible. We keep the Hydrolyte water bottle close, offering her sips between each sensation. There’s a quiet rhythm to it all, a deep respect for the space she’s in. Luke is so steady beside her, always present, always attuned to what she needs.
At 12 am, on the 27th of March, Colette begins to feel hot and decides to move out of the bath. She chooses the shower, her instincts leading the way. Not once has the thought of a caesarean or complication entered my mind. My birthing goddess is moving through something big, and while there may be so much running through her own thoughts, from the outside it's clear—her labour is stepping up and this little baby is well and truly on the way.
Her obstetrician has arrived and is quietly observing, calm and supportive. She’s happy with how well things are progressing and has no intention of interfering. There’s no need for a vaginal examination—Colette’s body is telling us everything we need to know. We’re watching, listening, and it’s so obvious she is getting closer with each passing moment.
Colette makes the most of the shower—moving between standing, being on her knees on the toilet, and back to standing again. She’s making all those deep, powerful birthing noises, the unmistakable sounds of a woman working hard and close to meeting her baby. She’s starting to make little pushing sounds too, and there’s such a raw intensity now.
Later, I would learn that inside, Colette was having moments of doubt—quiet thoughts of I can’t do this, even fleeting wishes to be taken for a caesarean. But in that moment, she didn’t speak those words aloud. She stayed in it, kept breathing, kept moving, and kept going. And from where I stood, all I could see was a woman absolutely in her power.
12.30 am Colette is still in the shower, on all fours over a chair, the water pouring over her back as she grips the seat and works through the rising strength of each surge. Then she shifts to the birth ball, her breathing deep as the gas helps her ride the waves that are now crashing closer and harder. The intensity is undeniable. Her body is working with relentless determination.
Her obstetrician joins us again—gentle, calm, but focused—as the new monitors continue to slip, unable to hold a trace. Baby’s heart rate is also reading on the higher side, and the obstetrician would like to examine Colette a little more thoroughly to see what’s going on.
We help Colette to her feet, wrapping a towel around her, and the moment she stands, it hits—full force. She is shaking, overwhelmed by the pressure, her body pulsing with the power of transition. She clutches the gas mouthpiece, but it can’t touch the enormity of what she’s feeling now. “I can’t do this,” These words don’t mean she’s giving up. They are the words of a woman standing right at the edge—raw, exposed, powerful beyond measure. And still, she moves forward. We guide her to the bed, Luke steady beside her, we are both holding her up with our love.
Colette’s obstetrician gently says, “I think your babies just like having high heart rates,” but there’s a flicker of concern in her voice. She asks for permission to do a vaginal exam and place a scalp clip to get a clearer reading of what’s happening. Colette agrees. The exam confirms what we already knew—everything Colette is feeling matches her progress. She’s 8–9 cm. Our birthing goddess is well on her way.
Colette is working, squatting on the bed. Both Luke and I have our hands on Colette, holding space and softly comforting her with our positive words. We remind her to close her eyes and rest in the breaks.
1.50 am baby’s heart rate is still having some high readings. The obstetrician recommends fluids and an IV. This proves more challenging than expected—Colette’s veins just don’t want to cooperate. For the first time, I catch a hint of worry on her obstetrician’s face. Eventually, just before the IV is finally in, baby’s heart rate begins to settle again.
By now, Colette is deep in it—the space where body and mind are both stretched to their limits. The moment when you are asked to give everything. And she is. Every part of her is calling her baby in.
Later, Colette shares that in her hardest moments, it was the thought of her children that kept her going. And that little quote— “My body is made to do this”—played over in her mind like a quiet, steady drumbeat, helping her stay with it when it all felt like too much.
A second vaginal exam reveals Colette is 10cm dilated. What she does with that information is entirely hers, and her body is saying, let’s do this.
Colette is following her birthing instincts and leaning into the urges to bear down. Birthing babies is raw. It’s hard. It’s hot and sweaty. It’s a mind game. And Colette is a superstar.
This isn’t just about nine months of waiting—this is a dream she’s carried in her heart since the birth of her first baby. And even though it’s harder than she might have imagined, this is her moment. The one she always believed in.
With faith in her own ability, trust in the birthing process, and the courage to believe that there is something inside her strong and brave enough to carry her through, surrounded by a room full of unwavering support, there is no doubt. She can do this.
“Labour strips you back to your bones. It shows you what you're made of. It’s primal, it’s messy, it’s relentless—and it’s where power is born.”
— Unknown
Colette moves instinctively into optimal birthing positions, pushing with every powerful urge. Her muscles speak to her strength as she grips the bed handles, holding herself with everything she has. The obstetrician steps out briefly, and the midwife and I exchange a look—we both agree it’s time for calves-in, ankles-out (KICO), to create more space. We’re not sure whether the obstetrician will be on board, but she returns and is immediately supportive.
Colette is surrounded by unwavering support. We offer cool cloths, sips of water, steady encouragement, our touch and lots of love. And now, we can see his little head. To me, that’s the clearest sign of all. He’s coming.
By 2 pm, Colette is exhausted. She’s pushing with all she has, and he’s slowly, steadily making his way. I gently ask—knowing it may not go down well—if she can lunge her leg out. The look she gave me! I’m laughing as I write this now. And in true Colette style, she did it.
Around 2.15 am, Colette feels the need to shift into a more reclined position on the bed. It feels right for her body, and she presses one leg into me— I like the pressure, it feels like I’m pushing with her. The obstetrician holds a warm compress to Colette’s perineum as Colette draws on a deeper well of energy, the final surge of hormones guiding her through the last descent.
Baby’s heart rate is still running on the high side at times, but Colette is close. So close. The obstetrician can see that the stretch of her perineum is at its maximum and doesn’t want to intervene too early. She holds off, watching, waiting. Finally, she gently explains that there’s more head still to come, and the perineum has reached its full capacity. Colette agrees. The decision is made.
With that one, precise cut, it’s time. And with the next push, he is here.
At 2.45 am, a beautiful, pink, crying baby boy. Healthy and perfect.
This is the moment your heart bursts open. There are no words that can truly capture it—witnessing life begin, witnessing a woman become a mother once again. Straight into his mother’s arms. Colette, you did it.
The room erupts with laughter, relief, joy, awe—it all spills out at once. The kind of laughter that comes from the deepest part of you, when the intensity breaks and all that's left is love. There are tears and wide smiles, hands held over hearts, the soft murmur of disbelief
that he’s really here. After everything—every wave, every breath, every moment Colette believed or doubted in herself—this. This joy. This little boy. This triumphant woman.
The energy in the room is electric and tender all at once. It’s a celebration, it’s a reverence. It’s the kind of happiness that settles deep in your bones—the kind you’ll carry with you forever.
Right here, in this room—this is what dreams are made of.
And of course, birth isn’t over until the placenta makes her entrance. Colette birthed a big, healthy placenta—so large the room agreed it was the biggest they’d ever seen. Fitting, really, for the 4.2 kg baby boy she carried to just over 42 weeks. This birth was a deep moment of triumph and healing. And in the end, no postpartum haemorrhage, no complications. Just her body, wise and steady, doing what it was always capable of doing.
Colette and Luke, thank you—thank you for the trust, the belief, and the invitation to stand beside you both through one of life’s most powerful journeys. To be part of Colette’s labour and the birth of your beautiful baby, “Tommy” was nothing short of an honour. Your unwavering faith in me, from beginning to end, allowed me to support you with my whole heart.
Colette, the strength, vulnerability, and fire you brought to your birth was extraordinary. Luke, your steadiness and love never wavered. Together, we were a team that moved with such harmony and purpose.
Now, as you venture into life with three little people to guide, love, and raise, I send you all my love. What a beautiful family you are. I feel so lucky to have shared in this chapter of your story.
With deep gratitude and love always,
Krista xxx