Boca Birth Blog: The Birth of Eleanor Louise

The Birth of Eleanor Louise: Conquering Fears

It was just past midnight, and here we were, walking through the empty grand entrance to Broward Health. The lights were dimmed, the kiosk was deserted, and the ornate decorations on the walls seemed to be beautifully illuminated. "It's a fancy hotel, right?" I joking whispered to my husband. He smiled and squeezed my hand and we kept walking. I couldn't do anything to stop it now. I wanted to turn and run, but onward we went.

It seems dramatic, but I am terrified of hospitals. I had always dreamed of a beautiful, peaceful home birth to welcome our sweet baby girl into the world. I pictured her being handed right to me, and being left alone in complete bliss in the comfort of our home, and snuggling in our bed as a family for her first few hours of life. It was going to be amazing.

It all started Friday morning at 5:30 am. My waters had broken, but instead of going into labor, my body decided--well--not to do that. I had spent the entire day walking, squatting, taking herbs, trying anything and everything to get my body to keep it moving. After 18 hours of futile attempts, my wonderful home birth midwife informed us we had to go to the hospital. With broken waters, I was no longer considered "low risk" because of a possible infection.

I am probably the only person in the world who has ever prayed to give birth in the car before we got to the hospital. Tommy talked me through some different scenarios, and I gave him as much information as I could on hospital interventions I wanted to avoid at all costs as we drove down south to the hospital.

"It's just a fancy hotel," I kept thinking as Tommy and I followed the signs to "Labor and Delivery." When we got there, I sat down in the waiting room and he ran back downstairs to grab some food (again, 18 hours so far). I chose a chair and looked across the room.

This picture was hanging across from me.

That little girl in the picture summed up my emotions at the moment perfectly. I imagined her clinging to the Blessed Mother, and closed my eyes, repeating the Hail Mary. The expression on this girl's face still brings me right back to what I was feeling in that waiting room. I was no longer in perfect control of my circumstances, and I had to grasp onto someone else and trust them. Who better to trust than Mary, Our Mother? They called me to triage, and when I asked the nurse if I could wait for my husband to come back, she answered, "No, he'll be here." Somewhere between choking back tears and being confident I followed her back to triage.

He did eventually come, but it took us nearly 3 hours to get assigned a room. The whole time I sat on the bed, feeling waves of emotions, and just trying with all my might not to cry or run out. When I finally got to my room, I started to feel more comfortable. I found the birth ball they had and grabbed it first.

"Do you have a birth plan?" One of the nurses asked me.

"I just want it to be as much like my home birth as it can be," I answered straightly.

I had to get pitocin, which I knew, which meant I was hooked to the heartbeat monitor and was not allowed in or near any water. I focused on what I could do; I needed a nap if I was going to get this baby out. Tommy and I curled up for as long as we could until the pressure waves I had been dying for finally started coming strong and steady. Tommy jumped to action with counter pressure and rubbing my back--a skill every daddy should know! He was my saving grace, staying right with me the whole time. He learned the monitor quickly and would anticipate what I would need and when. We got into a rhythm of swaying on the birth ball, me moaning through contractions and him squeezing my hips. At one point, he even propped behind me on the bed and used his feet for counter pressure--one of his favorite memories of the birth, I think.

"I don't want you to think I'm being mean by not offering anything for your pain, but I see you don't want anything, so let me know if you change your mind," the nurse told me at one point. I nodded and told her I appreciated her not asking. I never even thought about pain the rest of the day.

The heart rate monitor kept slipping off the baby during contractions. I knew she was okay, and that the monitor was just off. The nurses kept flitting in and out of the room and trying to adjust the monitor, but as my belly contracted and squeezed baby down, the location of her heart moved and we would "lose" it. The nurses and I had a little silent war between laying on the bed vs. sitting on the birth ball, but I just tried to keep focused. I knew she was okay, I heard that little heart pounding away in between and could catch glimpses of it during each pressure wave.

Finally, I was at 7-8 and the doctor arrived at the hospital. It was early evening, the nurses switched again, and I felt a shift--my birth team was there. Dr. Skeete came in and looked at me trying to lean back to keep the heart monitor in one place as the nurse had told me. "Why are you sitting like that? Let's get you up!" Well, she didn't have to tell me twice. She threw the birth ball on the bed and had me get on my knees and lean forward. Tommy kept squeezing my hips, and I felt renewed energy. My new nurse came in and took the belt off my belly and used the doppler to find baby's heartbeat during a contraction and sat next to me and listened to baby during a few contractions.

"She sounds good," she whispered.

"You're a genius," I sighed and smiled at her.

They discussed my preferences, and Dr. Skeete reassured me that mother-led pushing, delayed cord clamping, and an hour of skin to skin with mommy before any tests are done, were all part of her standard protocol. We would delay her first bath to preserve the sweet vernix on her new skin and I signed a waiver to not get the eye ointment. I should have known my midwife sent me to a great OB, but I had been so nervous.

I started moaning through my contractions which were coming close and strong now and Dr. Skeete calmly told me, "It's okay breathe your baby down, do your breathing." That's right! Breathe her down. I started to breathe her down and knew in my head it wouldn't be long now.

The nurse smiled and wrote "Welcome, Baby Girl Eleanor!" on the shift board. "She needs some encouragement!" she announced as she dropped the dry erase marker. I don't know if I actually smiled or just smiled in my head but it felt good to see that on the board. She's so close!

I crawled around on the bed a little longer in my own little labor zone until I felt myself starting to push. Dr. Skeete was right there ready. I remember thinking, "I don't know if I'm going to be able to get her out." Tommy was standing on the other side of the room behind the doctor and the nurse (he is not a stand in one place kind of guy by any means). I pushed through one contraction and I remember seeing his eyes grow wide. He looked at me and nodded his head and motioned that he could see her. It was that moment that shifted my perspective again. He can see her, and she is coming out now.

We waited patiently for the next contraction to come. It felt like it was an eternity for some reason. But, when it came it came intensely and the next one was right after that and she was out. I remember watching Tommy across the room bury his head in his hands with a sense of relief and joy I think only a daddy can feel as I felt her enter the world. "Take your baby!" Dr. Skeete directed me, and I let my eyes fall from Tommy to this tiny little girl, eyes wide open, being passed to me. All my emotions released. She was here. We did it. She's in my arms. And she's staying here. Tommy came over and gave me the sweetest kiss while our baby girl laid on my chest. Such a relief. What a journey!

Eleanor Louise was born at 9:34 pm weighing 6 lbs. 14 oz. and 19 inches long. 40 hours after ROM. But, I had done it. After she was born, we stayed in the labor room for 3 hours before being brought to the maternity ward. Tommy left again to get us food and I just sat in awe and silence holding and nursing our new baby.

When they finally came to move us to our next room where we would stay for a couple days, it was after midnight, and the hallways were empty again. We stayed in our room for two days. It was decorated like a fancy hotel room. It had a fancy full size bed with an elegant bedspread for Tommy to sleep in. The bathroom was even nice! I took a shower and changed into my own comfy clothes. My family and Ellie's Godfather, Larry, came to visit us the next day. It was Super Bowl Sunday, so we toasted a glass of champagne and enjoyed the game. Icing on the cake--the Patriots won.

It wasn't until the next day as I was wheeled out to go home that I saw the hospital alive. That quiet grand lonely entrance was bustling with people. "Don't let anyone near her," Tommy instructed quietly as we maneuvered the crowd. There were a couple of surgeons standing and having a conversation off to the side wearing their green scrubs and surgical hats. There were white doctor coats and sick patients closing in around us. I flashed to when we had walked into that building--it had been so quiet at the time. I knew if I had seen it like this, I probably never would have made it. But here I was, leaving, with baby Ellie clutched in my arms. I did it! We strapped her into her car seat and pulled away and the tears just started falling. Tommy looked at me in the rearview mirror and laughed, "Now it hits you?" I shrugged and giggled through my tears. I don't know what it was, but I have never been so happy and relieved to go home. :) We survived our hospital birth!