"What are you doing?"

An innocent-sounding question…but for several important details:

¦ your mother was due to give birth to you at any moment;

¦ it was around 1.30 a.m. and she had awakened from a sound sleep to use the bathroom;

¦ she had been in the bathroom for longer than normal; and

¦ the last time that she woke up at some ungodly hour to use the bathroom and spent a suspiciously long time perched – half-asleep – on the toilet, we ended up giving birth to Amari, your big brother.

I was having a Yogi Berra moment – it was déjà vu all over again!

I immediately clicked into full-awareness mode. I inflated the birth pool, attached the nozzle of the hose to the showerhead and put some towels on the floor. I can't say that I was particularly nervous.

We had prepared for your arrival; it was now simply a matter of executing the plan.

I started to chart your mother's 'rushes' (the name that we preferred to use to describe the intense uterine contractions that would eventually deliver you to us. Thanks, Ina May Gaskin!) and noted that they were between nine and 15 minutes apart.

In other words, we had plenty of time. I decided not to alert anyone at that point, because it was far too early.

So, between rushes, we catnapped and conserved our energy for the inevitable exertions associated with active labour.

The rushes began to occur with greater frequency around 10 a.m. at which point I called our midwife, Sherri Holley, and began to fill the birthing pool. Sherri performed a quick vaginal exam on your mother. Her cervix was effacing nicely and we fully expected that your birth would progress quickly but uneventfully.

Our doula, Sophia Cannonier, arrived shortly thereafter. She provided your mother with red raspberry tea, as well as some watermelon.

She also began to rock your mother's hips in an effort to alleviate at least some of the discomfort associated with the involuntary contraction of her uterus. Unfortunately, she had to leave unexpectedly in order to give assistance to another couple.

We weren't worried, however, because we were very well informed, prepared and confident. In fact, Sherri had told us that she envisioned only the three of us giving birth in a room with two lamps.

On the day of your birth, the scene that she had described several days earlier became an uncanny reality – yet another reminder of the deeply spiritual, intuitive nature of normal childbirth.

Your mother climbed into the birth pool and immediately eased into a very relaxed state. Sherri checked her again and determined that she was almost completely dilated.

I started to think that we were moments away from a water birth, but alas, that was not to be.

You had something much more challenging in mind that would test Sherri's expertise, your mother's endurance and my belief in our ability to achieve the birth that we desired.

Rather than allow yourself to be born with little fanfare, you decided to cock your head to the side!

The scientific term for this positioning is asynclitic presentation and would almost certainly have resulted in a C-section, were we giving birth with an OB at King Edward VII Memorial Hospital.

Sherri checked your mother again and determined that her cervical dilation had regressed from nine centimetres to seven centimetres.

In order to restart the process, she advised your mother to exit the pool so that the most taxing parts of the birth could occur unmolested by the soothing caress of the water.

Your mother assumed a side-lying position on the bed with both legs bent. The top leg was held in the air.

She pushed and pushed, seemingly to no avail. With every exertion, your head bumped against the cervical lip and no significant downward movement was seen.

Sherri broke your mother's waters with the tip of a pair of sterilised scissors in an attempt to get things moving.

Despite the breaking of the waters, movement was virtually non-existent.

Sherri then decided to put her hand inside your mother and 'dial' your head. This meant that, with each rush, Sherri would turn your head slightly. It was hoped that you would begin to venture down the birth canal once this assistance was given.

... and, thank the Ancestors, it worked!

Mind you, it was slow going. Sherri suggested that your mother move from the bed to the floor and further advised that she bear down as she pushed. You inched your way forward, which seemed a meagre reward for such an enormous expenditure of energy.

Sherri guided my hand to the top of your head and, to my great relief, I could feel that you were almost Earthside.

A few more powerful pushes and your head was visible. In fact, as your head was being born, you actually opened your eyes and appeared to look around.

You then slowly corkscrewed your way out.

Witnessing that was truly a surreal moment.

Your body, slick with vernix, soon followed …and, just like that, we went from a family of three to a foursome.

You were born at 3.19 p.m. on Friday, June 6, 2008. Your 'place of birth' was our bedroom floor. To my considerable surprise, you were a boy!

I was so sure that you were a girl that I had already chosen a name, Anayah, for you. Just goes to show that the Creator is not without a mischievous sense of humour.

You were born to the ital rhythms of Bob Marley's 'Confrontation' album. It turned out to be an appropriate musical accompaniment, because your personality, like the songs on that classic LP, is calm and joyful.

I cut your umbilical cord and held you in my arms, marvelling at your quiet alertness.

You were breastfed within minutes of your birth and you hungrily devoured the colostrum – Nature's most potent super food.

Your mother, it must be said, was just as alert as you, despite the considerable challenges that she faced and overcame during labour. Like a true warrior-woman, she smiled, leaned back and embraced her new role as a mother of two boys, as if it were already familiar to her.

I smiled too; exhausted, satisfied and proud as a peacock.

We'd done what we'd set out to do: we had our homebirth!

The Burchall Carey family now live in Toronto, Canada. Colwyn Burchall, Jr. is presently dividing his time between freelance writing and working as a stay-at-home dad to his two-year-old son, Ajani.

In addition to his roles as father to Amari, aged six, and husband to Cherise, he holds a Masters degree in Literacy Education from Mount Saint Vincent University.

He is currently completing his second children's book, entitled: 'Freedom's Flames: Slavery in Bermuda and the True Story of Sally Bassett', tentatively scheduled for publication this autumn.