Melanie
Welcome to the world
Saskia Tahlia Van Zetten
EDD 24th January 2025
Born on the 1st of February
Weight – 4kg
Height – 53cm
"Imagine if our culture told us that birth was one of the greatest things a woman might ever do. Imagine if the stories and images we were exposed to taught us that labour is an incredible and transformational experience. A rite of passage into motherhood.” – Leonie MacDonald
Mel and I share a beautiful history. She first welcomed me into her life as her doula for
the birth of her son, Remy, in 2021. I was honoured to stand by her side again for Addison’s birth in 2022. And now, for the third time, we walk this path together. My heart is full as I prepare to support Mel and her wonderful husband, Josh, once more.
There’s something truly special about knowing each other so well. After all these years, we’ve found a rhythm that feels effortless. Mel and I are kindred spirits—I’m sure of it. She’s an incredible birthing goddess, Mel has very long labours, and she always finds a way to tap into her beliefs and her inner strength to get her through. Josh is the perfect partner, always by her side, steady and supportive. Together, we make such a strong team.
After spending these years together, Mel has practically become a doula herself. Her knowledge and confidence in pregnancy and birth are inspiring. She’s also mastered techniques like Spinning Babies and has embraced tools like moxibustion to encourage her little one into the best position possible.
Mel’s last two babies both made their debut at exactly 39 weeks and 3 days. Perhaps a little too confident, we half expected baby number three would follow the same pattern—but this little one has a rhythm all their own. Teaching us patience, they are reminding us of all that they’ll come precisely when they’re ready.
I keep catching myself calling the baby “she” because, according to the ring test, we might be expecting a little girl. Of course, it’s just a guess, and we’ll wait to find out for sure. But I can’t shake the feeling—I have strong girl vibes.
"Every moment of waiting brings you closer to the one who will change your world forever." —Unknown
At 40 weeks and one day, Mel is feeling ready. Josh has been administering plenty of moxa sessions recently and Mel has been focusing on being patient and enjoying these last days as a family of four. Though Mel is eager to meet their little baby. Now, we wait to see what the night will bring.
5.58pm on Jan 25th, 2025 – Mel messages me to give me the heads up that she has some serious cramping going on. She has had it since around 3pm. Mel is not sure if it is from the big walk she has done earlier in the day or its show time. We hope this is the day.
I recommend that she considers putting on the tens machine as they work their best when you start them in early labour. Little coincidence I’m sitting home alone for I get Mel’s message, and I think I’m going to open that bottle of wine that Mel gave me for Christmas I was saving it for the birth of her baby but maybe I’ll have one small glass now and just see what mother nature thinks about that. About five minutes after pouring myself a little glass of wine I get my message from Mel. I think mother nature answered my question no more than one glass.
8:36 pm – Mel messages me, asking if the midwives had mentioned about giving the heads up when she was in early labour. I remind her yes; she should let the midwives know she’s in labour. I was with her at her last appointment, and they did want to know when things were happening so they could get some rest before she needed them. Her contractions are about seven minutes apart now, steady but still giving her space to breathe.
Her mother-in-law is on her way to mind the children so that when it’s time to leave, Mel and Josh can just go without waiting. She’s already called the hospital, and they’re holding a room with a bath for her. It’s all coming together. There’s that quiet excitement in the air, the feeling that things are shifting, that sometime soon, she’ll be holding her baby.
This morning – Mel messages me again. I had a full night’s sleep, Mel, had broken sleep as her contractions eased off by 1 am. This morning, she’s in the kitchen, feeling a little teary, but making pancakes for Remy and Addi —a little moment of normality in the waiting.
Her fabulous mother-in-law will take the little ones soon so she and Josh can have some time together, just the two of them, before everything changes. We chat about trying some Spinning Babies techniques later, and I’ll come around in the afternoon for some acupressure. Maybe this little one just needs a gentle nudge to tuck their chin and find the best way down.
Mel can feel her belly sitting lower this morning. Even though labour paused, her body has been working, shifting, making space. Things are happening in their own time, just as they should.
"Waiting for birth is like watching a flower bloom—you cannot rush it, only trust that it will open in its own perfect time." —Unknown
2:30 pm – I’m off to see Mel. She messages me to say she’s feeling teary and emotional. It’s hard mentally. The waiting, the wondering, the stop-start rhythm of these last few days. But I remind her—this will all be worth it. That part, I am sure of.
We spend a happy afternoon together, only a few tears but plenty of love and care. We work through Spinning Babies, some moxa, and acupressure points—supporting her body, creating space, encouraging her baby into the best position. More than anything, it’s about giving her a sense of calm and readiness. Tomorrow, we’ll head to her MGP appointment. A good night’s sleep would do her the world of good after last night’s restless one. When I leave, she’s in good spirits. Now, we wait.
"Every moment of waiting brings you closer to the one who will change your world forever." —Unknown
28th January – Mel and I head off to her MGP appointment. We find out that Baby Van Zetten is well down in her pelvis now, ready to go. Mel has been having tightening’s on and off every day, so hopefully, soon, they’ll keep coming.
She mentions her baby’s movements have felt different over the last two days—not less, but not as obvious. It could just be the change in position now that baby has dropped, but for reassurance, we head up to the PAC clinic for monitoring and an ultrasound. Everything looks perfect. The doctor mentions that if Mel wanted to, she could choose an induction, but waiting is also a good and reasonable option since both she and baby are in perfect health.
Mel and I enjoy a lovely lunch out in the sunshine at Aromas. We will continue to wait—patiently, or at least as patiently as we can. Mel will be the first to admit that patience isn’t her strongest suit, but she’s giving it her best shot.
30th January – I had originally made plans to go to Hobart on Saturday, thinking that if Mel birthed her baby the way she did her other two, she would have well and truly have had her baby in her arms by now. But here we are, still waiting.
Mel and Josh have talked it through, and they want me to go if her labour hasn’t started by then. Mel has a feeling that the dates from her dating scan might be off. Still, when I look at her, I can see it—she’s ready. Hearts feel tender. The waiting is stretching thin now. And yet, in true Mel and Josh fashion, they’re still considering everyone else’s needs while they sit in this in-between space, waiting to meet their baby.
But miracles do happen. God and Mother Nature already had the perfect plan—we just needed to hold onto faith.
31st January 3:09 AM – Mel messages me, hesitant to believe it’s really happening. Her surges have been strong since 12:45 AM, coming every eight minutes, now down to six. Josh is still asleep. She wonders if she should even message me—what if they fizzle out? But the intensity and speed are different this time, stronger and closer together than they were the other night. She thinks this might be it. She’s considering waking Josh soon, especially since I’ve suggested putting on the TENS machine.
A few more messages back and forth, and by 5:09 AM, I’m up, showered, and getting ready to go. Mel and Josh have let the hospital know, and they might only be an hour away from heading in. It really is the real deal.
"The moment labour begins is the moment a mother’s heart leaps, knowing the journey she’s been waiting for has finally begun." —Unknown
5:30 AM – Mel is in good spirits, and we’re all so happy that this day has finally arrived. We get to keep the team together for the third time. She’s breathing calmly through each surge—she’s a pro at this, and it’s all coming back to her. She has everything she needs within her to birth her baby. These beliefs will be so important in the hours ahead because, unbeknownst to us, we are about to embark on a marathon labour—one that will push Mel to dig deep into her soul, to trust herself and her body once again.
I help her with Spinning Babies techniques to make sure her body is balanced, we put on the TENS machine, and she leans over the birth ball, breathing calmly, feeling the growing pressure in her bottom.
I have a labour and birth prayer to share with Mel and Josh as they step into this sacred journey. It feels like the perfect way to begin the next chapter of their baby’s birth story.
As heads are bowed, it’s truly special to have Josh’s mum join us in this heartfelt prayer, asking for God’s protection over their baby, guidance for Mel and Josh, and trusting in His divine plan as they walk this path together.
And then, little Remy wakes up, and thankfully, Nanny is already here, ready to care for him. She settles on the couch with him, reading a story while Mel has one of the lactation balls I brought over earlier. The pressure is building, and then comes the moment—Mel looks up and says, Oh boy, I’d like to go to the hospital.
Mother Nature wasn’t letting us down—her timeline was unfolding just as it needed to, in It’s own time.
6:45 AM – Launceston General Hospital On the drive from Riverside to the hospital, Mel’s surges are now about three minutes apart. We make our way to the birth suite. Our midwife hasn’t arrived yet—she’s resting from a previous birth—but the ward midwife is lovely, fitting seamlessly into our little team.
Mel is excited to get into the bath. The way things are progressing, it feels like we may meet this little baby before lunchtime. She’s hopeful—she’d love for this birth not to stretch over days, as her history has shown.
Fairy lights twinkle in the room, the diffuser is set up, and soft music plays in the background. We’ve created a little sanctuary, a spa-like retreat for this sacred birthday
8:45 AM Mel has loved her time in the bath, but it has slowed things down a little. She decides to get out, feeling a bit tired. She settles on the bed with a peanut ball between her legs, a warm blanket over her. Josh rubs her shoulders while I massage her legs and feet with birthing goddess esential oils, using acupressure on her ankles. We share a laugh as I discover—mid-massage—that Mel has ticklish feet.
10:20 AM
Mel is feeling exhausted. She makes her way to the toilet but struggles there, feeling anxious as her contractions slow. We decide to walk around the room, then take a stroll outside in the park to encourage movement and gravity to do their work. She sheds a few tears, worried about another long labour. We talk through her options—she knows she doesn’t want this to drag on for days.
Labour is a mind game. Fatigue isn’t just physical—it’s mental too.
We do squats, lunges, talk about baby names—anything to keep the mood light and keep her moving.
Back in the room, her contractions pick up again. We change the music—refocused, reset. Mel climbs back into the warmth of the bath, seeking comfort in its familiar relief. Her spirits lift—one of the many things she does so well. We share a laugh, celebrating the small wins, as she loses some of her mucus plug. Contractions intensify. We snack on jellybeans, Mel sips her Hydra Mama, and we soak up the shift in energy. She feels strong. She can feel her baby moving down.
And then, in her own words—"I’m back, bitches!"We all laugh.
I am so incredibly proud of Mel. She is resilient. She is brave. She is everything a woman needs to be in labour. And Josh—ever calm, ever steady—is right there, unwavering in his love and support.
12:45 PM Mel is lunging in the bath, three lunges on each side, doing everything she can to help this little one descend. 1:25 PM—she’s out of the bath, walking. The contractions are steady but not accelerating. More lunges, more squats, hip circles, figure-eights — she knows movement is key to guiding her baby down. Mel is giving it her all.
1:45 PM – An external assessment reveals that baby is still in the inlet, positioned OT (occiput transverse). We try forward-leaning inversions, ‘rebozo’ sifting, and ten lift-and-tucks to encourage and make space for this little baby to engage ,and move on down.
In the quiet moments between sensations, we share a lighthearted laugh. We joke about push presents—because if anyone deserves one, it’s Mel. In fact, we all agree we might deserve one too, and with a smile, it’s decided that my husband will be the one to buy them. A good laugh truly works wonders in boosting oxytocin.
And so, the journey continues.
We had a visit by the beautiful obstetrician on today and with our Midwife we are chatting about options moving forward, The Obstetrician smiles that we mean business with our laminated birth plan and a preference for a physiological labour and birth and how we should keep that in our focus. But she does offer us some medical options, breaking Mel’s waters is one of them.
Mel is in tears—she shares that she doesn’t want her waters broken. She trusts her body and knows that while there’s a small chance it might speed things up, it could also create problems that aren’t there. Her baby is happy, and she realises that agreeing to it would be for everyone else—because she feels bad that her labour is long. But that’s not the way this story needs to go. Josh and I are in this for the long haul. It is Mel who is doing all the hard work.
Our spirit as women has all the knowledge and power, we need to give birth and to nurture our babies. It is in our genetic coding. It has been there since the beginning of time. You can trust its wisdom.” – Gurmukh Kaur Khalsa
4:00 PM
Mel and Josh FaceTime their children. There’s nothing like seeing the smiling faces of your gorgeous little ones to boost oxytocin.
5:20 PM
Mel has been in labour for a while now, so she decides to have a vaginal exam to get a better idea of what’s happening. It reveals that all this hard work has led to her being 1 cm dilated. Of course, this is disappointing—she has worked so hard and is exhausted. There’s some discussion about going home, but Mel isn’t sure how that will affect her mentally. In her eyes, it feels like going backwards.
7:20 PM
So, off we go again—another walk around the park. The fresh air is good for the soul, a welcome shift from the hospital walls, giving space to breathe and think. We let the feelings flow, honouring everything that has already happened and considering how Mel wants to move forward.
As much as we know about birth, we also know that each one unfolds in its own unique way. We weigh up all the options—the benefits, the risks, the alternatives. What if we do nothing? What does Mel’s heart tell her? How much longer does she feel she can continue like this, knowing she is not I yet in active labour after all these hours?
We know that things can change quickly, and that dilation isn’t a crystal ball, but at the same time, it feels disheartening.
We do come to a decision: Mel doesn’t want to still be doing this tomorrow morning. She is now in the mindset that she wants to talk about breaking her waters and possibly even the option of Syntocinon. It wasn’t Plan A, but she’s now open to considering a Plan B.
However, the obstetrician and midwife aren’t as keen on this idea. With night falling, they feel it wouldn’t be the best option due to staffing. Instead, they suggest giving Mel some sleeping tablets and sending her home. If by morning things haven’t progressed, they would be happy to break her waters and start Syntocinon then. They also remind us that we have a laminated physiological birth Map. Keep the faith.
Originally, going home wasn’t something Mel had wanted, but at this stage, it seems like the best way forward after considering their other suggestion of moving her to the postnatal ward. So, that’s the plan—we’ll go home and see what the night brings. After all, sometimes, being in your own home, in your own bed, surrounded by your own belongings, is the best way to labour. We’re hoping that, in its own time, things will begin to unfold.
"Birth takes a woman to the edge of herself—and then she finds out that she can fly." —Unknown
1st of February - Birth day
2:30 am After a shower and a little sleep, my phone rings—Mel is in established labour, contractions coming one minute apart. This is it. We’re heading back to the hospital.
When I meet Mel and Josh in the car park, I see a different Mel from earlier. These contractions are powerful, one minute apart, lasting 60 seconds, taking her breath away. She’s shaking, vomiting, and her waters have broken on their own. The walk to level four is slow, with many stops, a bucket in her hand.
We all smile when we find that the midwives have saved our room—the same one with the bath. This time, we won’t be leaving without a baby.
Mel has an incredible ability to refocus, again and again. She is determined, never wavering in her belief that she can do this. Her body seems to favour the long road in labour, but she is strong, fit, built for this marathon. Her body and mind are working together, asking her to keep going. The sweat, the exhaustion, the vomiting, and the tears will all fade the moment she looks into her baby’s eyes.
Mel is completely in her zone now, focused and strong. She doesn’t want to be touched—just breathing slowly and deeply, riding each wave. I put on a beautiful Christian labour playlist, and as she sinks back into the warmth of the bath, she looks every bit the birthing goddess she is.
Through it all, their baby hasn’t missed a beat—calm, content, completely unbothered by the length of labour. There is no distress, just steady reassurance that he or she is doing just fine. Our MGP midwife is called, and we are all hopeful that in the coming hours, we will finally meet baby Van Zetten.
I often think of something I once read: if we see two sunrises in a labour, we need to ask what’s going on. That thought lingers, but right now, everything feels steady, safe, as it should be.
Mel is feeling hot, and we gently wipe her down with cold cloths, offering small sips of her drink. She decides to try the gas—unsure if she likes it but willing to give it a go. Our midwife notices from where she’s finding baby’s heartbeat that he or she has rotated into a better position. Everything is looking positive.
Josh and I continue to support Mel, physically and emotionally, offering words of love and encouragement. We laugh together as we joke about timelines—technically, I’m meant to be heading to Hobart today, and my husband, John, is at home waiting to see if that’s still happening. But in my heart, I already know—I won’t be going anywhere until baby Van Zetten makes their debut.
4:00 am
Mel moves out of the bath, exhaustion creeping in again, but she’s determined to keep going. She wants to encourage her labour to progress, especially since things have slowed again since returning to the birth suite.
4:30 am
She’s on the bed now, leaning over the peanut ball. She’s feeling done. We place cold packs on her neck, and I make one up for her pants, easing the intense pressure. I gently ask, “How do you feel about doing some lunges—three contractions on each leg?”
Mel knows the drill. She gives me a look that says if looks could kill, I’d be on the floor. But she does it. Because that’s who she is. Then we laugh again.
5:35 am
Mel is now standing over the bed, swaying and rocking—letting gravity help. Her sounds are shifting, and her body is instinctively bearing down. More of her mucus plug is releasing. It feels like we’re edging closer.
And then, Mel gets bossy. “Come on, baby,” she says, her determination clear.
She’s convinced it’s a girl. Josh thinks it’s a boy. Hand in hand, they walk around the room, and her body responds well to the movement.
Mel mentions how she feels her body working better when she’s standing.
She’s made up her mind—this will be her last baby. Josh and I both agree. Three marathon labours are enough.
"She stood in the storm, and when the wind did not blow her way, she adjusted her sails." —Elizabeth Edwards
6:00 am
Labour is such a battle of the mind. It feels so close, and yet still so uncertain. Some sensations are strong and pushy; others are less intense. There is no consistency in Mother Nature’s version of perfection.
Mel is over the birth ball now, feeling more pressure, more intensity. She’s pushing, but it’s also painful—there is a lot happening. She makes her way back into the bath.
6:58 am
Mel steps out of the water again. The warmth had slowed her contractions, but things are still progressing. She’s had a bloody show, losing more of her mucus plug. We are moving forward, step by step.
At 7:00 am, Mel is lying on the bed—nauseous, vomiting, and needing quiet. The music is off, and she rests on her side, gathering herself. She agrees to a second vaginal exam, and then comes the news we’ve all been hoping for—she’s fully dilated. Despite her exhaustion, this is exactly what she needs to hear. A surge of relief and encouragement fills the room. She’s made it so far, and now, with every ounce of strength, she prepares for the final stretch.
By 8:05 am, Mel is on all fours on the bed. Our midwife, deeply aware of the long and demanding journey she has endured, gently suggests that if Mel feels the urge to push, she should go with it. Coached pushing was never part of our plan, but in her exhaustion, Mel agrees to give it a go.
We encourage her through each contraction, but in my heart, I can’t shake the feeling that her urges aren’t as strong as they need to be—or that she is simply too drained to give it her all. After about 30 minutes, our midwife, maybe, sensing the same, I am not sure, but she asks if she can do another exam to see what’s happening.
At 8:30 am, a third vaginal exam reveals that perhaps Mel isn’t quite completely 10 cm; a small, sneaky bit of cervix remains, and it’s starting to swell. The midwife asks her to stop pushing for the moment. Glancing at me, she asks if I have anything to help with swollen cervixes. I definitely do, I ask our birthing goddess if she is up to performing three forward-leaning inversions—each timed with a contraction. I also perform acupressure on her little toe, and after the inversions, we “shake the apple trees” while she’s on all fours. Honestly, how amazing is Mel?
"You were made for this moment. You carry generations of strength within you." —Unknown
After more than 24 hours of labour, the moment we’ve all been waiting for is finally here. The room holds its breath, wrapped in quiet focus and anticipation. Mel feels it too—her body takes over, guiding her baby down with an undeniable certainty. Though she hadn’t pictured birthing on the bed this time, this semi-reclined position is exactly where she needs to be. With both hands gripping the headboard, she surrenders to the powerful rhythm of labour. This is the moment she has been waiting for, and she is ready. Now these surges sound like business.
As her baby’s head is born, Mel reaches down and feels the softness of her baby’s head—a moment of connection that fills her with strength. Her body takes over completely, the fetal ejection reflex guiding her the rest of the way. The space around us feels still, as if the world has paused.
"This is the moment you meet the soul you have carried all this time. Keep going." —Unknown
At 9:25 am, after hours of unwavering strength, their precious baby makes their debut. Their precious baby is passed up onto Mel's chest, and her loving arms immediately embrace her, holding her close. It’s a moment of pure magic, a testament to the incredible power and resilience of a woman’s body. The air is thick with love as Mel gazes at her baby, her heart overflowing with awe for what she has just accomplished. In this sacred moment, everything falls into place—the hard work, the strength, the faith—leading to this beautiful meeting of mother and child.
Despite a history of shoulder dystocia with Remi and tight shoulders with Addison, this birth unfolds with what looks to Josh and I, much more ease—though our midwife notes it was still a tight fit. With quiet awe, Mel holds her baby in her arms, her face reflecting the depth of all she has just experienced—relief, joy, exhaustion, and something beyond words.
Josh and I are right there beside her. His support unwavering, he held space for Mel with love, encouragement, and absolute belief in her. We were a team, and what a moment it was when their gorgeous baby finally made their debut.
As Mel gazes down at her baby, their eyes meeting for the first time. Her baby looks up at her, calm and knowing, as if recognising the mother they have always belonged to.
She looks down to see who has been nestled within her all this time—a beautiful baby girl.
Our ring test and those strong “girl vibes” were spot on—welcome, little one.
Mel and Josh had two names in mind if their baby was a girl, they take a quiet moment, gazing at their newborn, letting her presence settle in. Then Mel speaks, “She looks like a Saskia, don’t you think, Josh?” He agrees without hesitation.
Welcome to the world, baby Saskia. We are so happy to finally meet you.
Everything at this moment feels beautifully right. We are wrapped in a bubble of love, relief washing over us—Saskia is here. Smiles and laughter ripple through the room, joy filling every corner.
Mel’s perineum remained intact, so no stitches were needed, and her placenta was birthed quickly this time, no retained placenta. But just as I was preparing to leave, cases in hand, I turned to say goodbye—and saw the colour drain from Mel’s face.
In an instant, postpartum haemorrhage set in. The room shifted as the medical team moved swiftly, their focus unwavering. I stayed close with Josh and baby Saskia, gently explaining what was happening as they worked to control the bleeding. Their expertise prevailed, and soon the situation was under getting under control.
Mel was so brave. In the thick of it, she asked our midwife, “Am I going to die?” When reassured that she absolutely was not, she felt a wave of relief, knowing she would be okay. But poor Josh, sitting beside me, holding their brand-new baby, wasn’t feeling the same reassurance. His eyes stayed locked on Mel, his worry unmistakable as he watched on, helpless and heartbroken.
And in true Mel fashion, once she knew she was safe, her first concern was me—whether I needed to leave to get to John so we could head to Hobart. But honestly, I was not going anywhere until Mel was in the clear and Josh felt confident that Mel was fine.
Thankfully, as time passed, all was calm again. Once everything had settled, I felt confident that I could say my goodbyes, leaving Mel, Josh, and baby Saskia in their little bubble of newborn love. Now, they had the space to take a breath, to simply be in the moment with their precious new baby
In the quiet aftermath, as I reflect, I am once again in awe of the strength it takes to bring a baby into the world. Women step into birth with so much trust, not knowing exactly how their journey will unfold, yet finding everything they need within themselves to make it through.
Mel, I am so incredibly proud of you. You pushed yourself to the very edge, found strength when you felt done, and time and time again, you pulled yourself back up. You kept going, trusting in the power of birth, surrendering to the path that had been laid before you by a higher power. You held onto faith, believing there was a way through —one that would eventually lead you to your baby, exactly as it was meant to.
Mel and Josh, thank you for inviting me to be part of your story once more—for the third and final time. Your beautiful family has grown again, and little Saskia is so loved. It has been an honour to walk alongside you, to witness the way you bring your babies into the world with love and courage. These moments will stay with me always. Enjoy every second of this new chapter.
Love Krista xxxx