Elio’s Story

By 36 weeks my newly moved-into house was transformed into the most Pinterest perfect birth space one could imagine. I had twinkle lights strung up on the walls with hand-made prayer flags of affirmations made by the women in my life, notes of well wishes and blessings from everyone who loved me and would love my baby. My birth tub was there just begging to be set up. I had an elaborate altar with candles, framed photos of: my mother, age 24, after giving birth to me unmedicated; my father (RIP) holding me in my first hours; and my husband’s sweet little toddler face. I had dried flowers from various poignant moments during my pregnancy, and a clay wolf that my husband had tirelessly carved by hand for me to symbolize the protection of our little son, soon to join our wolf pack. I had my doula bag tools… TENS unit, essential oil diffuser, the labor comb, heating pad, and all my training committed to memory… we were ready to “do it right”.

My last week pregnant was the same week I had lost a pregnancy the year before, and I wasn’t taking it for granted.

At 41 weeks I woke up on a Friday and sensed that by the end of the weekend I’d be holding my baby. I had baked his birthday cake a couple days earlier, partly out of impatience, hoping it would symbolically usher my labor in. By noon my uterus was tight with what seemed like practice contractions. Following Michelle's suggested protocol after 41 weeks, I had an NST (Non-Stress Test) scheduled at Kaiser San Leandro at 1:30pm that I debated skipping, partly because I had seen Michelle the day before and baby’s heart variability and movement were fantastic as usual, and partly because my intuition said labor was already on the way. Michelle told me it would be 20 minutes of inconvenience and he’d “pass with flying colors”, as up to this point he had been a very predictable and active baby. Begrudgingly I left the house in my husband’s sweatsuit (all that fit nowadays) with only my wallet in hand. 

During the NST I suddenly realized that I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt him move. My uterus was hard as a rock so it was difficult to really sense anything. I started watching the printout of baby’s heartrate and soon realized that he wasn’t having the big accelerations that the test was looking for. A lot of different things happened over the next couple hours of extended monitoring, but it soon was made painfully clear that I wouldn’t be having my dream home birth. Elio’s minimal heart variability meant he needed continuous monitoring, which was only available at the hospital.

There were fast conversations about needing an induction and getting prepped for a Cesarean. Michelle was already there and my doula arrived soon after, creating a protective energetic bubble around me, holding space for me to process this big sudden change. I felt as if I had spent my entire lifetime preparing physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually for this birth. We had done everything “right” to make a safe home birth possible, hadn’t we? I thought of the prayer flag at home, with an ocean swell on it, that said SURRENDER. 

Time to surrender, my baby needed me.

A nurse was talking about my baby to calm me down, and asked if he had a name.

“Elio” I said, through a lot of heavy tears. We hadn’t shared his name with anyone yet, and it all felt so deliberate and so precarious, “his name is Elio”. 

It was time to go to L&D without a hospital bag or even a toothbrush. They did a cervical check because they needed to know how to induce me and I was already 4.5cm dilated (70% effaced, -1 station). A nurse asked, “are you not feeling your contractions yet?” They were coming every 2-3 minutes apparently. But honestly, whatever my body felt was so mild compared to what was happening in my mind.

I walked to L&D in a hospital gown. I had forgotten why it mattered that I didn’t want to wear one. Then right there in the corridor, it happened: I got my first real contraction at 5:07pm. It had a beginning, it ramped up, it peaked and then it died down. All my fears melted away. Despite the circumstances, I felt giddy that finally it was happening. I’d be meeting my baby, my Elio.

I believe wholeheartedly that my body just knew that it was time. We both heard the words “Pitocin” and “Cesarean” and my body and my baby shouted “NOOOOO” and brilliantly got to work. This was my 0 to 100 ascent into active spontaneous labor.

I felt my brain shut off and I was on autopilot, glad to let my body take over. When a contraction came, instead of bracing for it, I tried to embrace it without knowing what that meant. “You can go there”, Michelle kept saying, “it’s safe to go towards that sensation”. I heard roaring and yelling and grunting, sounds I hadn't heard come out of myself before. At the peaks, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. It was as if my body was being ripped open in every direction. I was opening in ways I had never opened before. I have never felt such power move in me and through me. There wasn’t music playing but it felt like there was loud music inside me, rhythmic drumming and otherworldly sounds exploding out of me. “This isn’t bigger than you”, I remember hearing Michelle say.

But it was so big. It was out of body but at the same time it was so so deep in body. It was only body, our bodies, still working together as one.

Despite the circumstances going on around me, of what could have felt like an emergency situation or a complication that the hospital staff made sure to keep reminding me could very well end in an emergency Cesarean, I didn’t feel worried about Elio. Intuitively, I knew he was okay, although I didn’t have words or thoughts to express it at the time. Perhaps my body was protecting me from this fear, that my rainbow baby conceived after a harrowing miscarriage, could be in real danger; or perhaps laboring women have deep access to deep ways of knowing and trusting what is unfolding.

I felt my first bearing-down sensation around 7pm. Having never given birth before, the feeling was unrecognizable and yet quite remarkable. It felt like a brick was pushing itself through my tailbone, but I knew it was my sweet baby’s head navigating my pelvis.

My second midwife arrived and brought a very vibrant energy into a pretty heavy room. I distinctly remember seeing her wisps of red hair, and the smell of chai tea. After that Michelle recommended Max and I slow dance together, like we were at a high school dance. I had nearly forgotten about Max, my love, my best friend, my everything, being so consumed with what my body was doing, but he had been right there the whole time, supporting me through touch and his wonderful warmth.

Soon I instinctively retreated to the bathroom. I felt nauseous and had overwhelming diarrhea. I felt like in this small sterile bathroom, alone, I had a moment of clarity, like I was less underwater than I had been out in the room with all the machines and lights. I called for Max and he came in. “I don’t think I can do this” I told him, or maybe I just thought it in a panic, but couldn’t say it out loud. He remembers thinking I looked strong and confident. This was my transition and I should have recognized it, but it felt “too soon”.

The pushing sensation had grown so strong that my body was now pushing for me, without me doing anything to help. I felt way more than “out of control” of my own body, I felt possessed. I tried to find words to tell my birth team but I’m not sure if I did. Everything around me was muted and barely there. 

I started pushing on the squat bar around 9pm. I ate an apple. Then I pushed on my side. Pushing felt like such a relief from the relentless, irregular patterned contractions. Things felt slower now. After about 30 minutes I reached down and felt Elio’s head, it was slimy and squishy, it did not feel like a head. Elio had been posterior for my entire labor but now he finally turned ROA. 

I heard constant loving words that are now permanently etched into my brain from my husband, my doula and my two midwives. These same words now come out of me every time I am attending a birth as a doula. 

At 10:01pm I was fully crowning and I took my last rest, drank my last sip of water, and watched myself shaking and shivering in the full length mirror and my baby’s ridiculously hairy head, not retreating back into me anymore. I was startled by how unusually calm I appeared, instead of like something earth-shattering and miraculous was occurring.

I heard someone say, “Max you might want to get ready” and he moved into position to catch our baby.

As soon as I felt the littlest bit of a contraction starting I immediately pushed Elio’s whole body right out, which felt very strange and happened very quickly. It was 10:04pm, just shy of 5 hours since my very first contraction. I heard him crying before Max passed him to me.

The bliss and relief I felt hearing Elio and seeing his live body in my arms can never be put into words. “He’s here”, I cried over and over. I will never forget it. I think a small part of me couldn’t believe that he was actually alive and real, which is just part of the journey for those of us who have lost pregnancies and know the high stakes that exist.

When I saw his face, I recognized him instantly and knew he recognized me. He transitioned beautifully and was absolutely perfect. We will never know why his heart tones remained so flat and worrisome throughout my entire labor. Birth is a mystery, forevermore.

After my placenta was born, I consented to Pitocin to control excessive bleeding. I lost over 1300ml of blood. I had some retained placenta that was manually removed, which was far more painful than giving birth. I had a 2nd degree tear stitched. Most importantly, my son stayed on my body the entire time, trying to latch and remarkably alert, gazing into my eyes. My doula heated up my homemade kitchari and I savoured every bite. I felt dizzy and weak, but so elated.

Two hours later Michelle helped us clamp and cut Elio’s cord, after thanking my imperfect placenta for nourishing him for 41 weeks. We finally weighed him three hours later and he was smaller than we all had guessed (6 pounds 9.5 ounces and 19 inches). We said goodbye to our birth team. It was 2:48am. We debated going home ourselves, but Max, always the voice of reason, said perhaps we should spend the night instead of driving on the highway at 3am, so we stayed through the night and left AMA the next day. We couldn’t wait to get out of there and be cared for by our midwives and doula at home.

This was not the birth I had planned - and so many mothers will say “it never is”. Despite my intentions and careful planning, Elio was born in a hospital with me hooked up to machines and hospital gadgets everywhere. 

But we still had our dream birth executed, just in a completely different setting than I had wanted. It wasn’t the perfectly “undisturbed” birth I had envisioned, but I know it was a triumphant hospital birth and that it likely would have ended much differently without my midwives there to remind me that I can safely trust my body, my baby and the process of birth. I know it is a gift to show L&D rooms what unmedicated birth looks like, in all its glory.

I will continue to grieve the home birth I didn’t get — but I am in awe of the way I brought Elio into this world. Courageously, swiftly, without hesitation and with pure love and determination. 

It is very poignant to me, and becomes more poignant as time passes and I continue my work in and around birth, that I had the “perfect” setting at home, the birth tub, the wall of affirmations and blessings, the birth alter, the comfort objects, all the little things that were going to get me through labor; and in the end I didn’t have any of it AND I STILL DID IT.  I had only my body, raw conviction, and the loving presence of my birth team. In the end that was all I needed. And for that, I am truly proud. 

Giving birth to Elio Zev Abitbol is the most powerful, self-possessed and divine thing I have ever done. 

Birth doesn’t have to look a certain way or be a certain way to be transformative or empowering. Power, trust, and surrender are not location-dependent — they live in the body, the spirit, and are found in the love in the room. You can own your experience no matter where or how it unfolds <3