I first came across HypnoBirthing during one of my late-night BabyCenter app reading sessions in my first pregnancy. Kate Middleton (aka The Duchess of Cambridge) had used the method to prepare for the arrival of her first child, Prince George. She had made headlines for how fit and fresh she looked just hours after giving birth.

I figured that Kate was a good role model to follow. My daughter would be born in Bronovo – the same hospital in The Hague (Netherlands) where I was born 39 years earlier. Famous for having delivered all three of the royal princesses, I knew I was in trouble when the obstetrician of the hour promised to give me “TRDE”. The acronym stood for “The Real Dutch Experience” (in other words: birthing without an epidural).

Since Holland has no private healthcare system, and 30 percent of births are performed at home, the epidural is often considered a luxury performed in a separate ward (barring there is some car-wrecked soul who needs it more than you, in which case you are sh*t out of luck). This seemed like way too much uncertainty for a control freak like me. I needed a bullet-proof plan. Self-hypnosis seemed like a good option. I could practice, rehearse, prepare, study, learn, read, and condition my mind and body for this life-changing event called Motherhood. I found a Hypnobirthing teacher in the city of Delft, who doubled up as my doula. Salima took me through weekly relaxation and visualization exercises at her house, accompanied by candles, soft music, herbal tea and sweet treats.

While my HypnoBirth visualizations certainly did not include having a 60-millimeter water balloon stuffed up my fanny two days prior to my scheduled “due date”— it was the procedure agreed upon by the doctors to dilate me. It was not half as bad as it sounds. I was granted 48 hours to chill with the balloon (and a 3.9 kilo baby) inside of me – taking rounds in the hospital parking lot, meeting my bestie and her daughter, doing yoga, watching House of Cards, getting a massage and ordering in pizza. Once I was 3cm dilated, however, the party was over. At 10am the following morning, my water was ruptured, and I was hooked up to a Pitocin drip. Six hours later, I had transitioned, and the obstetrician told me to keep my feet in the stirrups and push.

I was hesitant to do so as, in HypnoBirthing, they encourage a gentler “breathing the baby down.” I had already been told in various doctor consultations that this method would “never work for a first pregnancy / with the size of your baby”. When my legs were hanging relaxed in the stirrups and I was only deep breathing and still not actively “pushing,” the doctor threatened to get the vacuum if I did not start working a little harder. I gave the biggest push I could muster and, after just one more push, my angel – Ariana – was born.

Regardless of the traditional set up of the hospital, what I remember most from the birth was the complete calm and silence of it all. There was no extra staff; no chatting, discussions or cheering by the doctors. The only sounds were that of my breathing and occasional whispers of “more water,” “wrong pressure point” and “more light touch massage” directed at my husband, doula and mother respectively. Even Ariana herself did not cry when she came out. Instead, she met my husband, Neeraj, and me with a simple “muaaaaa” from a tiny quivering lip. Most remarkably, in the middle of active labour, I remember thinking: Wow, I think I might actually be done soon…. I feel so strong and womanly right now!

Fast forward to the birth of my son, Avir, and I can honestly say that the births of my two children could not have been more different. Don’t get me wrong: His birth was equally beautiful, just a lot more crazy and intense. I guess that was to be expected, considering that his birth was not in the sleepy diplomatic town of The Hague, but in the buzzing Maximum City of Mumbai, India.

***

I strongly believe that if you visualize what you would like to happen, the universe will conspire to (more or less) make it so.

The only problem was that, with the birth of Avir, I wasn’t so sure what my “ideal birth” looked like. Would my second pregnancy end with me squatting on the back seat of an Uber on my way to Surya hospital? Or would my water break just as I was deciding on an organic peanut butter brand at the new Nature’s Basket? The uncertainty aggravated my eczema to the point that I looked like Kung Fu Panda’s red-eyed sister.

When the chores in my house were never quite done, and my bag for the hospital was never quite packed, I realised that I was stalling this birth. Meanwhile, my baby was growing bigger and bigger – until he was about 4 kilos and I was warned that, if he grew beyond 4.5 kilos, I would end up with a scheduled C-section. My obstetrician, Dr. Ameet Dhurandhar, (known for his natural birth inclination) agreed to give me until one week prior to the estimated “due date,” and then gently induce me.

I was relieved to hear it. I finally had some clarity over what was going to happen. I finished my chores and relaxed for several days. I spent endless hours with my first born (now a 5-year-old girl named Ariana), reading her the entire Mr. Men series in bed, while having a picnic of pretzel sticks dipped in strawberry sorbet with cheese and grapes (don’t ask; she loves it). I finished packing my bag; finished printing out my birth plan; and mentally prepared to “check in” to the hospital on Sunday evening. I called my mother-in-law over from Delhi to mind the house, agreed to meet my mother in the suite the following morning, and planned my Last Supper (AKA spinach lasagna from FoodHall).

With just an hour to go before our departure, I bounced up and down nervously on my birthing ball and surveyed the apartment. Nine months of nesting had done wonders for the place, which looked cleaner, neater and better than it had in 10 years. I looked at Ariana and felt a lump forming in the back of my throat. My baby, I thought… what was going to happen to our family with a new addition? Would she still be as precious to us as she had always been up to now? Just then she got up from her colouring desk, and handed me a multi-colored drawing which read, “Mama, good luck. I love you,” and placed a yellow smiley face on my left hand. I choked back the tears and looked away.

“Well, we better be off then,” I muttered, eyeing my husband, Neeraj, anxiously. I gave my mom a big hug, my mother-in-law a kiss and my daughter a tight squeeze. And then, it was down the elevator and to the car.

On the way to Surya, I watched in astonishment as someone wearing a bright white shirt biked directly next to our car with the number “11” written on his back. I had been seeing the number 11 everywhere for the past month. I first noticed it because every time I checked the time on my phone it was exactly 9:11 – a date one cannot easily forget. Then it was 7:11am and then 7:11pm and then just simply 11:11. When my doctor told me he would induce me on March 10, and we should see something happen on March 11, I was not totally surprised.

Once I reached Surya, Neeraj filled in the paperwork and I went straight to my room, “the Lotus Suite.” It was comfortable and dark. I unpacked, changed and waited. The staff kept offering me the hospital nightgown and I kept politely refusing. This ritual carried on for about half an hour before the Dr. Dhurandhar arrived.

“Did you get a tan?” I asked. A completely random question, which made him laugh. Apparently, the doc has a Vitamin D deficiency and he’d been spending some extra time by the pool with his kids. It is rather odd to be discussing someone’s tan seconds before they stick a Prostaglandin gel into your vagina, and yet this was the order of business for the night. Once the gel was in, I was instructed to “get some rest”.

No more than 10 minutes later, however, I felt an intense pressure in my lower pelvic region. I softly reclined on the Surya hospital bed… YIKES!!!!! Was this mattress purchased in the town of Bedrock? It was rather Flintstones-reminiscent. Feeling sorry for my lower back, I asked Neeraj to sleep on the patient bed while I slept in the slim passenger bed (which was moderately softer, by comparison).

The night was long and sleepless. My abdomen had reached such oblong proportions that whenever I had to pee, I needed to wake up dear hubby and ask him to hoist me out of bed. (Note: when your partner has to be forklifted and transported to the loo, you’ve reached an all-time low in the sex appeal department). To make matters worse, squatting on the toilet was a killer, so I decided to urinate while standing (in the shower). I pictured a race horse relieving himself to help me relax (again, not the sexiest image).

When dawn broke at 6am and the early morning hustle of Mumbai could be heard in the far distance, I took a deep breath. Did I feel “rested”? Not quite. And I’d already been informed that, at 10am, I would be served another helping of the gel – this time by a female colleague of Dr. Ameet. FOUR MORE HOURS OF FREEDOM, I thought to myself… Though the bowling ball-like pressure on my public bone did not exactly make me want to sing the theme song of Wham!.

I rinsed, brushed, changed, had breakfast and waited…. The female doctor who walked into the room seemed pleasant enough… until she stuck (what seemed like) her entire hand up my cervix… “OH MY GOD!!!!!!” I gasped and looked at Neeraj in pure disbelief. Before I was able to protest more vocally, the hand was out – the smile still plastered on her face. I took a mental note to keep this doctor at a safe 10-kilometer radius from my southern hemisphere in the future.

I have to admit, however, that the procedure was effective. Two hours later, I started to feel mild contractions or “surges” (as we’d been trained to call them in my HypnoBirthing class). I quickly popped in my earphones and turned the “Rainbow Relaxation” on repeat. I had been conditioning my mind and body to instantly relax and “go loose and limp” to Kelly Katelyn Bryant’s crisp British accent for the past 5 months. This self-conditioning had been accompanied by weekly private workshops with Neeraj and a HypnoBirth instructor from Australia, named Melissa. The course prepares you for natural birth without fear, and with more control over the most disobedient part of the human body: The Human Mind.

***

“Okaaay… you look… mmmm….comfortable…” remarked Dr. Ameet when he checked on me two hours later. It was 12 noon. I reassured him that “stuff is definitely happening down there”. He looked skeptical and said he would be back in another four hours to check on me again, and gave me a heads up that if things did not progress, he might have to take me down to the Labor Room and put me on the Pitocin drip. In any case, he reassured me, we would discuss everything together at 4pm.

Lunch was served just as my mother entered the Lotus Suite. She was filled with nervous excitement. As luck would have it, Melissa (pregnant with her fourth child), was also at Surya visiting Dr. Dhurandhar for a check-up and asked to stop by and say hi.

I greeted Melissa over my plate of rice and dahl – my left ear permanently plugged into The Rainbow Relaxation, while the right ear was free to join the conversation. Surges were now presenting themselves every couple of minutes for about 30 seconds.

“I would not do too much lying down right now,” advised Melissa. “Practice what we learned in class, let gravity help you, and do as much vertical activity as you can. Walk the halls, squat against the wall, sit on your ball, do some nipple stimulation.” I tried not to cringe at the last suggestion. “When you’re tired, lie down for a nap, relax, and wait for labour to start.” She also offered to do another “fear release” hypnosis session once she finished at the beauty salon, around 4pm.

I gave her a grateful hug, complemented her on her fashionable bag, and started pacing the halls, husband’s hand held in tow. After several squats, birthing ball rotations and a warm shower on my belly, I decided it was high time to lie down. Eyeing my watch, I saw that it was already 2:30pm so I would not have much more time to take a na—– AAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!! What was THAT?????? Something within the very depths of me had stirred. I instinctively stood up and watched as water spilled out of me. My mucous plug had popped and I was dripping amniotic fluid all over the Lotus Suite floor.

“Call the doula!” I shouted at Neeraj. “And tell her I don’t want to answer any more questions about contractions or timings or duration! Just tell her to get in her car and DRIVE!!!!!!!” My husband looked at me incredulously.

“Babes, you’re not in your… zone… Just breathe… Lie down…” he offered, but I was in no state to be horizontal.

There was a knock at the door. The female doctor who had administered the gel in the morning was smiling.

“I’m here to do an internal exam”, she said.

“I don’t think so,” I said firmly. “I was very clear in my Birth Plan. I only want my own doctor touching me.” Her eyes darted back and forth and she politely shut the door. Meanwhile, I bent over the foot of the bed and asked Neeraj to put a chair behind me and give my lower back the most amount of counter pressure he could muster. My mom was instructed to place a hot water bottle on my pelvis and press. God, how I wished I had two hot water bottles at this point.

When the surges came they were super powerful and long. When they were gone I was hurling instructions at my slightly bewildered mom and husband. When I felt that I was getting way too exhausted, I lay on the bed.

“I think the baby is going to come out!” I gasped. “Can someone please tell me what birthing position to take??!!” I glanced at some of the nurses who had now filtered into the suite and stared at me blankly. Remembering the HypnoBirthing positions, I ordered my mother to put pillows behind my back and under both my legs to prop me up.

“Don’t push,” said one of the grey-haired nurses. “We need to take you to the Labour Room.”

“She’s not going anywhere,” said my husband decidedly. “It’s much too late for that.”

“AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!” It felt too good to scream. The louder the better.

“But we don’t have any equipment here…” stammered the nurse. About 10 more people wandered into the room, many of them from the OT carrying various instruments.

“Avir, come out NOOOOOOWWWWWW!” I commanded.

Finally, Dr. Ameet and my doula, Sanam, arrived cool and 100 percent present, kicking out all irrelevant bystanders.

“Look at me,” Sanam said calmly, kneeling at my left leg. “Just breathe.”

“SANAM!” I yelled. “At my FEET!!!!!” She was a big woman and was giving me acupressure on the foot soles (just as I’d requested in my birth plan), but I was already too far gone. I could not push against her hands, and there are no stirrups in a Suite bed. I would have to birth the baby the HypnoBirthing way – the way I had not been allowed to do with my daughter in the Dutch hospital.

“Natascha, you are going to deliver here,” reassured Dr. Ameet, alertly crouching down. “You are going to breathe the baby down. Don’t scream; put your feet on the bed, and breathe the baby out.”

It took six breaths for Avir to nudge himself down.

“Look at that hair!” I heard my mom exclaim. Sanam took my hand and made me feel my baby’s crowned head. Wow! He was really THERE!!! In the next breath, he was out. We both cried from the intensity of it all.

“Superb!” complemented the doc.

“You did great babes!” said Neeraj proudly.

I shivered when I thought of what I had just accomplished. I felt so empowered, like I had done this on my own — with the support of some very caring individuals.

What followed for baby and me was a mayhem of multiple bed switches in various rooms to be stitched, measured, weighed, cleansed and fed respectively, without ever losing sight of each other. Thank God, you’re out… thank God you’re here… I kept chanting in my mind.

By the time we returned to the Lotus Suite, all was dark, with only warm fairy lights surrounding our wedding photo, a picture of Ariana, and a small statue of Lord Ganesha. I was in a fresh nightie, with my hand connected to an antibiotic drip that was making me drowsy. Avir lay next to me, swaddled and in deep sleep.

I couldn’t believe how fast everything had happened. (Neither could the doctor I found out in my follow up appointment. He confessed that when he saw me so relaxed at noon, he had decided to go home to town in Worli to pack his bag, preparing for a long night ahead. Instead he ended up having to fly over the Sea Link, hand-on-horn, praying to make it in time.)

In fact, it was partly my fault. Besides encouraging natural birth, HypnoBirthing also has a more spiritual aspect to it, encouraging mothers to start communicating and bonding with their babies as soon as they conceive.

Before deciding to take a nap at 2:30pm, I subconsciously sent a message to Avir: “Hi Sweetie, how are you doing in there? What do you say we skip the next insertion of the gel? I don’t know about you, but I did not enjoy that. I also don’t really want to go down to the Labor Room nor do I want to be on Pitocin. How about we do this together, right here, right now… In fact, let’s agree that you and I will both be done and chilling by 7pm.”

Avir was born two hours after this internal conversation – at 4:26pm to be exact. After all the chaos, there was serenity in the Lotus Suite. Neeraj had gone down to register the birth, and my mom had left the hospital for home to be with Ariana. Avir was comfortably snuggled up in his cot, and I was drifting in and out of sleep as the antibiotic drip took effect. As the last nurse left the room, I asked, “What time is it anyway?”

“It just turned 7 o’clock,” she smiled.

Somehow, I was not surprised.