Birth Story by Isabelle Nougier-Gallen

Photo by @camilleelisa_photographie

It’s quite funny how things never happened as expected but after all, Life isn’t really a straight line, isn’t it?

12 years ago, my gynecologist announced to me I was suffering from infertility and having babies would be hard. I wasn’t sure at the time I would be fit for motherhood but from that moment, I decided it was the most important thing in my life. I didn’t want to go through IVF nor anything inclusive and yet, I had my first baby through ovarian stimulation, my second with artificial insemination and my third son with IVF. It took me 4 years each time with a lot of hormonal treatments, injections and tears. 

For my first son, I was terrified by giving birth and blindly followed everything my midwife told me to “follow the book” which means a very medical hospital birth with epidural. The only thing I didn’t want for this birth was the gynecologist to use tools and episiotomy. Almost 4 weeks before his term, my water broke and my first son was born with the help of a vacuum with a massive episiotomy. Curiously, I keep a beautiful and serene memory of his birth.

For my second son, everyone told me he would be born early so I had to stay in bed for months. Suffering from gestational diabetes I was afraid doctors induced the birth and I didn’t want to live this experience. My second son was born 6 days before his term when my water cracked, the midwives induced the birth 24h later. It was the worst experience I had since the pain was so unbearable I couldn’t do anything other than asking for an epidural again. After that, the birth was quick and uneventful, with the exception my son was born disabled with a unique chromosomal anomaly. But that’s another story.

For my third son, once again, nothing happened as expected. I was suffering from gestational diabetes and my gynecologist foreseen a “big, tall baby with a very quick birth”. But this time I didn’t want to blindly follow the book. I wanted to experience my last birthotherwise, to have a say in it. In France, giving birth is a very medical act. 80% of women giving birth do it with an epidural and very few can choose otherwise nor the position to push. Giving birth at home is quite rare (0,14% of births) since you can’t find midwives to assist you due to the risks of their responsibility. In my case, suffering from diabetes, it was forbidden for me to give birth at home (and there is no birth center in my region, only 20 in all of France).

It didn’t matter. I prepared myself for the possibility I would give birth at home, not having time to go to the hospital since everyone seemed to believe I wouldn't make it there… I read a lot (The Zen Mama guide was of course one of my favorite supports) and I decided to change hospitals to give birth since I wasn’t happy with my previous births in a private clinic. Epidural wasn’t the only option for me anymore and I didn’t want an induced, heavy sedated birth. I wrote my birth plan with all my wishes and hoped for the best. I also found a doula, which is quite uncommon in France, to help us postpartum and to stay with the boys at home during the birth for my husband being at my side.

But as I said, nothing happened as expected. On Monday morning I had an even worse night as usual. I woke up with tenuous but regular cramps. I didn’t recognize them as contractions and my midwife told me on the phone “if those were contractions you wouldn’t have that voice”. I wasn’t convinced by her answer but since I had an appointment at the hospital in the afternoon to check the baby's heart rate, I could wait. I put my maternity suitcase in the trunk of my car, just in case, and I drove myself for 25 km to the hospital. 

There, the nurse announced to me they had changed the Covid19 protocol and my sons won’t be able to visit us at the maternity ward. Having a disabled and autistic son, I knew the separation would be very hard to manage for him. She told me that while checking my blood pressure so I wasn’t surprised when she told me the result was too high. Anyway, she wanted me to have an ultrasound to check on the baby and to do some analysis. The public hospitals in France are University hospitals so you are usually taken in charge by medical students. I knew something was wrong when I saw the Chief doctors coming in a few hours later. In 30 minutes they had changed their advice 4 times. In the end, they told me I had preeclampsia and the birth had to be induced very quickly. Since my contractions had already begun (the strange cramps I had since 4 am), they let me stay the night to see if the birth could start naturally. I was quite in shock. I didn’t expect to stay at the hospital all alone, without kissing my boys’ goodbye. How lucky I was to have my suitcase with me! Twice during the night, I had to go down the birth ward to monitor the baby's heart rate and check my cervix. All night, I was starving. Being admitted to the hospital too late, I couldn’t have a vegetarian meal so I didn’t have much to eat. And since the protocol for induced labor asked you to fast, no one wanted to feed me in the ward… During the night, I remember stroking my belly, focusing on my feelings, baby’s movements and sensations, telling myself it was the last moments in my life that I would ever be pregnant. I was living the moment, being grateful for every instant I had. Those long hours lying down in the hospital bed were pretty special and intimate.

After a sleepless night and hours waiting in the examination room for the doctors to decide on my case, the decision to induce my labor has been made. How disappointed I was! My previous experience was still vivid in my mind and I was so afraid to live it again! But it seems Science had made progress in this field and the protocol used was less violent. After 30 hours of contractions, the actual work began, boosted by the perfusion. My husband arrived just in time for that, after dropping off the kids at school and medical center and taking off the last train he could. With induced labor, you don’t have a choice, you have to be on epidural. So, once again, I took it. But for the very first time, I had a midwife focused on my wishes. In the morning, when she began her shift, she read my birthplan and came to discuss it with me. She explained to me what was possible or not and took note of what I wanted. It was so comforting to be cared for and listened to in this special moment and it was the very first time of all my births! Since the epidural puncture didn’t go well the previous times, she asked the chief anesthetic to come and do it herself. It really made a difference. The labor progressed fast. The maternity ward is big and we were 6 mum delivering at the same time but I never felt my midwife stressed nor been neglected. On the contrary, it felt cozy and intimate. We were just the 3 of us, my husband, me and her, coming and going over the room. The room was small and looked like a house kitchen which made me laugh. I recognized all the signs, all the contractions and could feel my baby’s progression. I wasn’t heavily sedated so I was really present. I was grateful for every instant, registering all the details as the last I’ll ever know in my life. With my husband, we settled at last for the baby name. It was really funny because we changed our minds completely since we couldn’t agree on a common ground. Unexpectedly, we chose something new and we loved it. It felt perfectly right at that moment. After almost 3 hours, I felt it was time for me to push, the baby was almost there. My husband went out to go and searched for the midwife but she was delivering another baby so I waited. When the midwife came, the head was already there and I could feel his soft baby hair. In 3 pushes he was out, so big and chubby. My husband could cut the umbilical cord and our beautiful little Félix was in my arms. He came for my breast almost immediately and stayed at it for long hours, suckling and sleeping. I loved these postpartum hours. They were so peaceful and full of love. The midwife showed me the placenta (it was the first time for me) and then stitched me. I was tired but marveling at how beautiful my baby was and how well he managed our first breastfeeding. 

Félix in Latin means “lucky and blissful”. After all these months, (years?) of grief, pains and tears, we thought of him as a hopeful addition to our family and another way to bring joy into it. And now, 5 months later, his beautiful smile and laugh are exactly doing that.

Isabelle Nougier-Gallen is a French mum of two special boys on a journey to live in mindfulness and kindness with every living soul, while respecting our planet. She blogs about kindness here and she is an eco-friendly digital storyteller for positive impact small businesses. She also has an interest in self-development, self-care, books and the arts. Feel free to contact her and follow her adventures on Instagram @not_a_star_just_a_mum and @pimpyourbestlife