How does a complicated birth become a positive birth experience in Austria?

Wolfie is 6 weeks old today, and these six weeks have given me enough time to physically, mentally, and spiritually process the journey of his birth. I don’t want to turn this post into a horror story or scare any expectant readers. Instead, I’d like to capture that phenomenon that transformed a challenging birth process—with all its extreme physical pain and emotional strain—into the positive birth experience it became for me. My hospital wasn’t in Vienna; we chose a small university teaching hospital in Tulln, which is a public institution.

And this phenomenon consists of a few simple things:

Care. From the very first step into the hospital until leaving the institution, I felt they genuinely cared about how I was feeling. This care wasn’t expressed through satisfaction surveys. It was a feeling in every human interaction—with the cleaners, doctors, reception, midwives, even the cafeteria lady—like everyone treated me as a long-lost distant relative. With friendly curiosity, genuine attention, sincere interest.

Cheerfulness. Every examination started with a smile, there was always a gentle touch, they always knew what was worrying me at the moment. And with cheerful smiles, they explained in a light, professional manner how they would resolve the situations that were weighing on me. They spoke to my belly to talk to the baby. And everyone immediately switched to English with helpful cooperation when they saw it was more comfortable for me—even when it wasn’t for them. In return, I tried to express my thoughts in their native language with my beginner German, as best I could.

Faith. And this in the noblest sense of the word: faith in me, as a mother. During the days of latent labor, then overcoming the first hurdles of active labor. But most of all in the hours before birth, when an entire team assisted the midwife due to the emerging difficulties.

Connection. When this incredible midwife refused to interrupt the natural birth process and wouldn’t let anyone or anything get between my baby and me with any intervention. She looked at me, spoke to me, and I knew that her faith in me now determined whether she’d let me fight for the baby without intervention. And because of that faith, it succeeded. Because she made me believe I was capable of it at any cost, and that everything would be alright in the end.

The right partner. My island of safety is my husband. Who, from beginning to end, was the partner by whose side I felt almost in a cocoon. By whose side I knew that no matter what happened around me, I was steadily at the center of his focus. Who took care of Rún while I was in the hospital. Who was my support during contractions, endured it sitting on the floor when I clung to him, and if he couldn’t do anything else, he was simply present with me in the events. And who could be with our baby during the time I couldn’t, so I knew there was no need to worry. ♥