Luca’s Birth Story
Magic happened through heartfelt intention.
So much power in allowing, in feeling, and in becoming a portal and guardian of life from this new perspective - this gentle, healing, and loving experience.
Pregnancy
Luca was conceived in a turbulent time. I carried deep sadness, grieving my mother and grandmothers, who left this world in such a short span. It was a delicate, almost impossible dance — holding both sorrow and joy, learning to let them walk together.
I sought support for myself to embrace this duality of life with presence, grace, and an uplifting spirit. I called for a tribe — and found it. I called for support — and it came. I called for love and tenderness — and it was given. This became the foundation of my pregnancy: learning to ask for what I needed and to receive it when it arrived.
After a challenging first trimester, a gentle rhythm returned. I began to connect, ever more deeply, with my little one. I felt, with unwavering certainty, that Luca would come sooner than expected. I invited my in-laws to Sydney earlier and asked my husband to pause work by week 37. I listened to my body, attuned to Luca’s movements and signs — sleep, rest, gentle Braxton Hicks, nourish, repeat.
As week 38 approached, the night of July 22nd came. I turned to my husband and whispered, “I think I might be waking you up tonight.”
Labour
Just after midnight, between 12:30 and 1 am, the surges began.
Soft at first — familiar — and I still believed they were Braxton Hicks.
Kai woke, and as I tried to settle him back to sleep, the rhythm changed. The practice contractions revealed themselves as something more. It was time to wake my husband.
Kai stayed awake, wide and present, as if sensing the shift in the room. All through the pregnancy, he had said, “I’ll help you, mamãe. I’ll jump in the pool with you.” That night, he was true to his word — holding the energy, bearing witness.
By 1:30am, things were building. I began timing the surges, moving instinctively between bedroom and bathroom. My husband tended to Kai and started preparing the pool. I stepped into the shower and stayed there for thirty minutes, letting the water hold me as surges rolled in — five minutes apart, forty to seventy seconds long.
At 2am, the intensity arrived fully. I needed reassurance. It was time to call Jacqui, our midwife.
By 3:15am, when Jacqui arrived, I was deep — far beyond words. One look at me, and she began preparing the bedroom floor. There might not be time for the pool. One gentle check of Luca’s heartbeat — the only one — and all was well. That was all I needed. Reassured, I softened. I surrendered. Transition had arrived.
My husband moved tirelessly between worlds — filling the pool, holding me when I called for his love, tending to Kai. The pool was ready. After the next surge, I left the bedroom floor, ran downstairs, and stepped into the water.
Entering the pool felt like coming home. I melted. And soon, the rhythm shifted again. The pushing phase arrived. Between surges, there was space — a pause — the rest and be thankful moment, preparing me for what was coming.
Birth
Not long after, Luca’s head began to crown. Breathe. Push. Control. Breathe. Push. Control. His head was born.
With the next few surges, his body followed — and I reached down, lifting him from between my legs and bringing him straight to my chest. He arrived loud and ready, announcing himself to the world without hesitation. We did it!!!
Love beyond language.
On July 23rd, at 4:04am, the world welcomed Luca. 4.05kg. 52cm. My little lion.
I was surrounded by love and care. About forty minutes later, I gave birth to my placenta. That moment became the great release. The cycle was complete. I wept. My baby in my arms. My placenta before me — tree-shaped, luminous — a living testament to all my body had done.
Ordinary. Mundane. And yet utterly magical. Wild. Divine. Transformative.
“Childbirth is a rite of passage in which self-transformation occurs regardless of how the experience unfolds. ”
Kai
Kai was there the whole time.
Awake through the night, moving gently through the space, finding his way as best he could. His presence was not part of the original plan — but then again, birth has never belonged to our plans. It unfolds in its own rhythm, shaping everyone within its field.
I had worries about him being there — about whether his reactions might pull me out of my body, away from the depth of the experience. But that never happened. My husband held him with care, ensuring he felt safe, seen, and supported. And after the placenta was born, Kai’s presence filled my heart in a way I cannot fully describe.
Kai’s own birth had been different. Planned as a homebirth, it stretched across two long days of labour before we transferred to hospital. To birth physiologically in that space required fighting for our integrity — and even then, it came with deep wounds. Kai was taken from me almost immediately, with less than a minute of skin-to-skin and his cord cut right away. That separation was profoundly traumatic for both of us.
I couldn’t birth my placenta then. I don’t remember being offered space or time to process what had happened. Kai was gone, and I was left alone in that room, covered in blood, until my husband returned for me.
Luca’s birth felt like a gift — and in reflection, I am deeply grateful that Kai was there to witness it. To see his mama as a portal to life, moving with courage, trust, devotion, support, and love. To witness that birth can unfold differently. That there are other ways.
For Kai to be part of welcoming his baby brother into the world — not as a bystander, but as an integral presence — feels profoundly healing. It has been a gift to witness their bond: from belly, through birth, and now into life.
Birth can unfold differently.
Luca’s birth was a dream made real.
Magic unfolded through heartfelt intention.
I prayed for it. I proclaimed it. I danced with it.
I wrote letters to my baby and sang — again and again — until my voice became a prayer.
The preparation was less about shaping the body and more about tending the inner world:
my mind, my heart, my connection with my baby, with women, with love itself.
It was also part of my own healing — from grief, and from Kai’s birth.
Life and death walked side by side.
And as in birth, healing revealed itself as a dance —
between roots and wings,
between earth and heaven.
I placed my mother figures on the birth altar, gathering what was nourishing and true — especially my own mother. I called on my ancestors, asking for their strength, protection, and love. I reclaimed all the goodness they passed on to me, letting it flow through my body and into this birth.
I surrounded myself with women who spoke the language of depth and devotion. We gathered in circles, welcoming spirituality and mystery into the journey. Thinking softened. Feeling expanded. I felt safe to feel — without resistance.
There is immense power in allowing. In feeling. safe. In becoming both portal and guardian of life from this gentle, loving place.
Forever grateful.
