Giving Birth With Your Chimp in Charge

Before labour, I was a serene, centred, grounded goddess?in?waiting. I’d read the books. I’d collected the oils. I’d curated the playlist. I’d picked a birthing centre that looked like a boutique spa where people whisper instead of breathe.

I thought I was ready.

Then labour began… …and The Chimp Paradox turned from a leadership concept into a full?scale psychological circus.

Professor Steve Peters explains we all operate using:

The Human — the calm, rational part

The one who attends antenatal classes, believes in breathing exercises, and assumes lavender oil will help.

The Chimp — the emotional, reactive part

The one who panics, shouts, negotiates with medical staff, and generally ruins the Human’s plans.

The Computer — habits and autopilot

The one who keeps you polite even when your Chimp is having a meltdown.

Pregnancy gives each role a dress rehearsal.

Labour is opening night and the Chimp has the starring role.

 

HG Bootcamp: The Chimp’s Warm?Up Act

Nine months of Hyperemesis Gravidarum had already tested every fibre of my resilience. So much so that I once said:

“I’m actually really intrigued to see how much labour hurts.”

That was the Human speaking.

The Human was naïve.

The Human needed supervision.

One contraction later, my Chimp stood up and said:

“THIS IS NOT THE KIND OF EVENT YOU SHOULD BE ‘INTRIGUED’ ABOUT.”

And she was right.

 

The Journey to the Hospital: The Chimp’s First Obstacle Course

Before we even reached the birthing centre, the universe decided to test my emotional stability.

There are four roads to the hospital. Four.

On this particular day? Three were closed. Not partially. Not restricted. Closed?closed.

So we were forced onto the only remaining route — a single?lane, country?track?slash?medieval?cart?path.

Naturally, we ended up behind a driver who had never before encountered the ancient art of pulling into a layby.

Every time another car approached, they panicked. It took them thirty manoeuvres — THIRTY — to allow one single car to pass.

Meanwhile, I was in the front seat experiencing full, feral contractions at a speed of 1 mph.

My Chimp lost it:

“WHY IS THIS HAPPENING? WHY IS HE DRIVING LIKE IT’S AN IQ TEST?!”

By the time we reached the hospital, I had mentally aged 40 years.

 

The Birthing Centre: A Spa With… Interesting Pain Relief Choices

It was beautiful. Peaceful. Warm lighting. A pool that looked like it belonged on a luxury retreat website.

But the pain relief?

Ohhhh the pain relief.

Gas and Air

Pain relief? Absolutely not.

What it DID do was make me feel drunk. And if there’s ONE time in life I do not want to feel drunk, it’s while trying to push a human out of my body.

Paracetamol

If gas & air was a joke, paracetamol was the punchline.

My Chimp’s review:

1? Would not recommend

 

The Birthing Suite: Pinterest Dreams vs. Active Labour Reality

When we viewed the birthing suite, we thought it looked calm, minimalist and spa?like.

What we failed to realise was this:

Every single piece of furniture was designed for an Olympic?level active labourer.

There was not one comfy chair. Not one.

There was a bouncy ball, which in theory is helpful. In practice? It’s basically doing CrossFit while experiencing a pain level that could fold steel.

Then there was the rocking chair.

I sat on it and rocked like my life depended on it, like I was trying to generate enough force to catapult myself into the next room.

At one point I swear a midwife looked over as if to say, “Is she… okay?”

Eventually, after the ball workout and the rocking?chair?rodeo, I ended up in the birthing pool — the first moment anything felt remotely sensible.

 

My Labour: The Friends Episode I Accidentally Starred In

First visit: contractions every few minutes. I was sure I was 5 or 6 cm.

The midwife checked:

? 1cm. ?

ONE. SINGLE. CENTIMETRE.

Rachel Green vibes: turning up ready to give birth and then staying for 300 years.

I went home. Came back hours later, clearly in active labour.

Checked again:

? 2cm. ?

My Chimp stood up, offended:

“SO WHAT HAVE I BEEN ACHIEVING ALL THIS TIME?!”

Then the masterpiece: I started pushing at 2.5cm.

Not 10. Not 8. Not remotely near anything sensible.

My body was like, “What on earth are we doing?”

The midwife’s face: “This is… unorthodox.”

My Chimp: “WE PUSH WHEN I SAY WE PUSH.”

 

CEO of Labour Day: A Tribute to My Partner

This part deserves its own heading because honestly, WOW.

My partner, usually my equal, my teammate, my “we make decisions together” person became a full corporate takeover during labour.

He transformed into:

CEO of the Delivery Suite
Head of Breathing Operations
Chief Contraction Strategist

He sat through every contraction with me.
He matched my breathing like I was defusing a bomb.
He held my hand with the intensity of a man holding onto the edge of a cliff.
He guided me through every minute like a coach in an Olympic final.

Our relationship has always been equal…
…but on labour day, he was in charge
and honestly?
THANK GOD.

I could not have done it without him.
The Chimp couldn’t.
The Human couldn’t.
Even the Computer couldn’t.

He held the whole room together.

 

After Brooke Arrived: The Moment Everything Changed (and Another Plot Twist)

The instant our beautiful baby Brooke was placed on my chest, something unbelievable happened:

Every trace of HG left my body. Instantly.

And look, I’d love to say that in that moment I was washed over with a profound, cinematic, mother?earth wave of love, and yes of course I was in a huge way … but truthfully? It was Sheer. Overwhelming. Relief.

Relief that it was over. Relief that I would never have to do that again. Relief that the nine months of misery had finally cashed out.

But now, writing this 15 weeks later? I can say with my whole heart:

She is amazing. She is worth every second of fuss, drama, HG, and chaos.

She’s our tiny miracle with a big personality, and she somehow makes every bit of it make sense.

After a shower (the best shower of my entire existence), I got ready to meet my family in the bedroom suite we had for the night, a completely separate room which, ironically, would’ve been VERY handy to actually give birth in.

As I walked out, feeling proud and serene and slightly reborn, the midwife looked at me, wide?eyed, and said:

“You were so quick. I’ve been in this job for 30 years and I have never seen someone go from 2.5cm to giving birth that fast.”

Not. What. You. Want. To. Hear.

My Chimp, who had been resting briefly woke up just to mutter, “Well, that explains a lot.”

 

 

The Chimp Paradox: Labour Edition

1. The Chimp Arrives Before the Baby

She’s loud. Emotional. Outspoken about the pain relief situation.

2. The Human Goes on Annual Leave

Remember the playlist? Affirmations? Techniques?

She abandoned them all.

3. The Computer Does HR Damage Control

Still thanking midwives mid?meltdown.

Still apologising after every contraction.

Still trying to maintain dignity.

4. Labour Without Strong Pain Relief Gives the Chimp Superpowers

She is feisty

She is overconfident

She is unpredictable

But even she was shocked to push at 2.5cm

5. And Then… Silence

The moment the baby arrived, everything changed.

The Chimp collapsed.

The Human returned.

The Computer filed away my questionable behaviour.

I felt powerful. Emotional. Humbled. Transformed.

And deeply, overwhelmingly grateful.

 

Closing Thoughts

Giving birth taught me:

• The Chimp Paradox is VERY real
• Curiosity about pain is a rookie mistake
• Gas & air is basically a fruity cocktail of delusion
• Paracetamol should be escorted off the premises
• Pushing at 2.5cm is chaotic?good energy
• My partner is an absolute hero

Now it’s your turn:

What did YOUR Chimp say or do during labour? Bonus points if a midwife looked alarmed.

Melissa Woodall, Senior Housing & Construction Leader, Wates Group

 

This blog is part of a series, first published on LinkedIn.