Like Jools Oliver, I planned to have my daughter present at the birth of my newborn – but it didn't go quite to plan

A 'brutal' and 'terrifying' experience that 'no child should witness'? I don't think so. Even though my plans went awry, I'm scandalised by the judgment that's been heaped on the Olivers for a perfectly natural choice

Jools and Jamie Oliver (AFP)

I went in to labour with my second child with an open mind. And I’d love to tell you that after a short and easy labour, my bouncing baby boy found his way in to the world surrounded by his family in a calming water birth that had taken place in my kitchen. That was the plan. Nine months of endless conversations with midwives, consultants and some fabulously supportive Facebook groups had given me a feeling of empowerment: that was how it was supposed to go.

We’d all be there, the two on-hand midwives smiling serenely, my husband delightedly cooing over the son I knew he so desperately wanted (but would never admit he did), and my three-year old daughter Caitlin. She was desperate to meet the reason why she hadn’t had a proper Mummy cuddle in months and why I had to move out for three weeks when she had developed chickenpox. Welcoming my new baby surrounded by the people who loved him seemed like the obvious choice.

We went ahead and bought a birthing pool and had great fun deciphering how to get it (and keep it) up to temperature. My husband, ever the science geek, had it timed to a fine art by the time we were ready to use it. He knew exactly when the hot water would run out and when it was time to start boiling the kettle. One of my favourite memories is a few days before my labour started when we all got in the pool after dinner, and sat in my kitchen in a space not much bigger than the average bath, giggling away to each other.

My daughter was spending time with her Granny and Granddad at the end of my pregnancy, on strict instructions that she was to be returned when birth was imminent. We’d talked to her about what to expect and she was fully briefed on where her sibling would be coming from. Then, when my labour started, the phone call was made and she came back home to join us for her baby brother’s arrival.

Of course, to quote Robert Burns, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. And while I had a calm seven hours in the comfort of my own home, it was not to be. The dreaded “failure to progress” meant a quick journey in an ambulance to the local hospital, where the next morning Benjamin was born by C-section. It was a wonderful experience, and I felt safe and nurtured by the team at the lovely hospital, despite them knowing this wasn’t “my” plan. Even as I had a quick cry on the way down to the theatre, my midwife stopped the trolley and asked if I wanted her to send the doctors away and come back a bit later. I almost hugged her, but decided it was high time to meet my new child.

Ambulances and C-sections don’t make for a brilliant environment to introduce your young child to the wonders of birth. But in a relatively uncomplicated labour, the feeling of euphoria once your new child is born safely is something to be shared. That’s why I applaud Jools Oliver for making the decision to include two of her oldest children in the birthing room.

To a mum-of-four, it must have been an obvious choice for Jools to have 14-year-old Poppy and 13-year-old Daisy celebrate the entrance of the newest Oliver. To call it a “brutal” and “terrifying” experience that “no child should witness”, as one Daily Mail article did, is shaming an experience that a lot of our young people will go through at some points in their lives. What better example for a young girl than to see their mother confidently give birth to a sibling? Seeing how she copes with the pain and emotion of birth sends a powerful message: if I can do this, so can you. There’s nothing inappropriate about a natural process that has produced every single human on this earth.

Childbirth is scary because it represents the unknown – and the truth is that labour is different for every woman. The key is to accept that things will change, and adapt your plan along the way – without the intervention of judgmental voices or media pressure (the Times advertised a front page feature called ‘How to give birth like Jools Oliver’, which seems unnecessarily aspirational).

So no, my three-year old wasn’t able to see the wonder of my son being born, even though I very much hoped she would be. But she was the first visitor in to see him a few hours later –and I couldn’t be happier with the way it turned out.