“This Is Why I Teach”: A Birth Story That Stopped Me in My Tracks
Every now and then, I get a message that stops me mid-coffee sip, mid-email, mid… everything.
Last week, I received a beautiful birth story from one of the families who attended my antenatal classes. And honestly? It made me tear up in the best possible way (yes, I’m blaming my perimenopausal hormones and not my cuppa.
They’d written to tell me that the breathing techniques we’d practised together had transformed their birth experience.
Not just helped. Not just come in handy.
Transformed.
They said they’d gone into labour feeling confident—like they had a plan, tools in their back pocket, and a calm mindset. They’d practised the breathing at home (which always makes my little teacher heart sing!), but it was in the birthing room where it really clicked.
They described the moment when a particularly intense contraction came. Instead of panicking or tensing up, they instinctively dropped into the rhythm of the breath pattern we’d used in class. “It was like my body remembered what to do, even when my mind was freaking out a bit,” she wrote.
She also told me the visuals made all the difference—those printable breathing flashcards we used, with calming colours and step-by-step instructions. They had them on the wall of their birth room, and the midwife even commented on how helpful they were.
Can we just take a moment for that?
A midwife commenting on your visual aids like they’re the main source of calm in the room? I mean… wowsers.
They ended the message by saying, “I honestly don’t know how our birth would’ve gone without those breathing techniques. It gave us something to do when things felt overwhelming.”
And that—that—is why I teach.
It’s not just about information or tick boxes or fancy diagrams (although I do love a good printable!). It’s about giving people tools they can actually use when it matters most. In the middle of the night, in the car on the way to hospital, in that moment of ‘I can’t do this’—they can. And they do.
So, if you’ve been wondering whether those strange slow breaths and funny balloon visuals are just fluff, trust me… they’re anything but.
They’re power.
They’re calm.
They’re magic in action.
And stories like this? They’re my reminder that what we do matters. A lot.
