Eliana's earthly entrance

This is the story of my daughter's birth. 

We had had to wake up early, but I had not been able to get much rest in. My mind had been wondering in so many places and yet had remained centred on one thing: I was going to be meeting my baby in a few hours. My emotions were intense and wide-ranging; excitement, anxiety, fear, elation… terror. I was terrified. Terrified of the surgery which was required because Eliana had not turned into the head-down position and had remained in breech position for a minimum of 11 weeks. Terrified of the unknown effects I could experience from the anaesthesia that would be used because I had never been operated on before – my appendix, tonsils and even wisdom teeth are all still in place. Terrified that something could go wrong, that I would have to be put under general anaesthetic due to my scoliosis interfering with the administration of the spinal block or that there would be a surgical complication. Terrified that despite regular check-ups and scans that something had gone undetected and there would be something wrong with my baby. Terrified that I was at the end of one life-changing experience and was about to start another that would take my world as I knew it, turn it upside down, shake it, toss it around and spin it completely off its axis – I was officially entering full-on motherhood. And I was terrified that I might not be a good (or good enough) mom.

But I had no choice other than to get up, have a quick bath, get dressed, pack the last few items into my hospital bag and load everything into the car to go to Life St George’s Hospital for the birth of my daughter. And we were running a tad on the late side. It was quite funny to consider this since Nik and I had both run the gauntlet of continual questions regarding our upcoming transition into parenthood, with the commonly asked “Are you ready?” being thrown out with increasing regularity as the pregnancy progressed. My response had become practiced, “Is anyone ever really ready?” – which was usually met with a knowing expression from those that had already experienced what we were going through. So much like our parenthood readiness, despite our best preparation and planning we were also not quite as ready to leave for the hospital as we would have liked to be – at least we didn’t need to do it in a rush due to sudden labour onset! Thankfully we did still arrive at the hospital admissions desk at the appointed time of six o’ clock and were quickly waved through, being told to go up to the labour ward and wait.

Along with another couple, we arrived at the labour ward and were shown to a birthing room. I was rather pleased as we had been warned that we would have to wait elsewhere had there been labouring moms in the ward. It was great to have a nice, quiet and private place to lie down and relax after the rush of getting to the hospital on time. I got into a hospital gown, lay on the bed and had monitors put on my belly to record El’s heart rate. It was calming to lie there, paying vague attention to some random show on the TV while I listened to my daughter’s heartbeat and sporadically checked how her heart rate changed over time.

The Caesarian section had initially been scheduled for ten o’ clock, but we were told that it was going to be at nine o’ clock instead. And as Murphy would have it, both my own and Nik’s mother ended up running late due to traffic congestion. We had invited the two of them to come and see us before the operation and to wait together for El’s arrival. As it grew closer to eight o’ clock, a couple of nurses came to prepare me for surgery before both of our moms arrived to briefly see us. As the orderlies arrived to transfer me from one bed to another, the fear started to set in again. I started shaking as I rode in the lift down to the first floor (Nik took the stairs) and was wheeled into the surgical ward. And there we waited. And I shook with fear. I prayed.

The anaesthesiologist came to chat to me about what to expect, he was very friendly and helped to reassure me (although I was still more than a little bit nervous!). Later a midwife arrived and again did her part to reassure me, saying that I looked a lot braver than what she did before her C-section (she commented that she had been brought into theatre “kicking and screaming”). She took Nik to get him scrubbed up and ready for theatre. Eventually at about half past nine I was wheeled into the operating room.

As promised, the anaesthetic was administered without any problems and felt exactly as described: a surge of warmth from the lower spine downwards, followed by pins and needles in the legs. It felt so strange afterwards, not being able to feel my body below my waist and yet still being aware of being moved back into position with people tugging at me. I had a blood pressure cuff on over my right arm and was told that I would need to extend my arm outwards and hold it when the cuff sporadically inflated to monitor my blood pressure during the procedure. As my obstetrician prepared to make the incision through which my daughter would enter the world, I asked Nik to play some music on my cellphone. I had Nik sitting next to me on my right and the anaesthesiologist at my head. He calmly explained to me what was happening as it happened, telling me to expect to feel pulling and tugging in my abdomen and that there would be a sudden reduction in the pressure on my torso as well as whoosh of liquid as the amniotic fluid was released, assuring me not to think that I was bleeding! I did not really feel the pressure or whoosh of liquid, but the pulling and tugging were definitely there!

I held Nik’s hand, silently praying and listening to the softly playing music as we were kept informed of the progress being made on the other side of the screen. One of El’s legs emerged first, followed by the second. And at 09:50 on 13 October 2015, Eliana Mathilda Gwendolyn Regnart was born, with “After the storm” by Mumford & sons playing quietly in the background. My obstetrician raised my daughter high, almost triumphantly, so we could see her above the screen. Nik started crying softly, with me joining him in his happy tears a second later. 

Welcome to the world!

  

Almost completely removed from mom

Dr Andrews holding her latest delivery

As El was taken to be wiped down and checked by her paediatrician, I saw Nik eagerly (and anxiously?) looking over to where he and the midwife were busy, I softly gave him “permission” to leave my side and go to his daughter. El had started to cry at that point, those tearless whimpers of a newborn – expressing the indignation and discomfort at being so rudely removed from the comfort of built-in feeding, plumbing and air conditioning, only to be poked and prodded by gloved hands! Her initial APGAR score was 9/10 and then 10/10, she was 49cm long and weighed 3.07kg. While Nik watched over the medical personnel, he was handed the scissors to cut her umbilical cord and did so after the midwife reassured him that it would not hurt his precious little girl. I waited in a surreal haze of anxiety, wondering how long it would be before they brought my daughter to me, it seemed like an age before the midwife asked if I wanted to have her placed on my chest.

Birth weight

Got to keep 'em separated. One proud daddy cutting the cord as the midwife looks on.

And then I saw her properly, her big dark eyes and round face. She lay on my chest and was very soon squirming, pushing against me to move herself towards my breast. The midwife assisted the two of us and within minutes of her birth I was nursing my daughter, feeling the warmth of her tiny little body against my own as the surgical team stitched me up on the other side of the screen. No text messages were sent or phone calls made, myself, my husband and our daughter were in our own world despite being in a room with several other people going about their business to ensure the health of myself and my daughter.

Mom's first proper look

After being stitched up, I was moved onto the gurney to go to the recovery ward. Again, it was such a strange sensation to not be able to move or feel my limbs properly, while still being aware of the physical motion. I felt helpless and they moved me. As El happily nursed away, the nursing staff checked me over… And called to each other to come and look at the “beautiful baby”. In the strange haze that I felt that I was in, I recall feeling so proud that my daughter elicited such a flurry of excitement for people who saw babies being born every day. Yes, she was mine and she was beautiful and healthy.

We were waiting in the recovery ward for a while, I felt pins and needles in my legs and was slowly regaining the ability to move one of them. At that stage I asked Nik to send a text message to our parents, but he was not interested. It was not a matter of urgency, he was still enjoying the moment. Eventually the call came through from the postnatal ward to say that there was a bed for me.

As the lift doors opened, our moms saw that we had finally arrived and they came to get that first glimpse of their granddaughter; unwashed, wearing an ugly muslin beanie and naked against my skin. We told them to wait on the off-chance the nursing staff allowed them to stay to visit, which they thankfully did. My mom brought along the traditional family gift for a new child, a panda teddy bear. At one point a nurse came to see if she could help me with latching, but Nik had already assisted me with moving El over. The sister remarked that I was “cute” for a first time mom and that Nik and I made “a good team”. More feeling returned to my legs, it took about 45 minutes before I could stretch and bend them properly. And at some point El peed on me, the first of many spills to come! Her little squeaks were too adorable and she hardly cried at all, although this was probably also because she was a little bit zonked out from the effects of the medicine given to me.

Total adoration

A bit later, after lots of skin-on-skin cuddles, a nurse brought over a pink onesie and explained that all the babies are put into hospital issue onesies for their first night since they only bath the babies one their second day. This is to allow colonisation of the baby’s skin with good bacteria from their mother’s (and father’s) skin. Nik got her dressed and the grannies took a few photos before leaving to give us a little privacy. The idea was for me to get some sleep, I was exceptionally drowsy and dopey after the operation, but I didn’t end up sleeping until later in the day.

El’s first non-family visitor was Ben Durham, a retired pharmacist and priest who had worked with my mom for a number of years. He came to see the two of us and blessed El.

Proud parents

Shortly afterwards Carmen came to take a few post-birth bonding pictures and then my dad arrived to meet his granddaughter. After her visitors, Nik helped me again with latching her and she fell into a peaceful sleep after she finished nursing. El was so peaceful and content, but also so still that we were worried at times that she’d stopped breathing! With great difficulty (and some held back tears), Nik eventually left the hospital in the late afternoon so he could fetch his sister, Lauren to come meet her niece – El officially made Lauren an aunty after she had waited so long for one of her siblings to have a baby! Nik’s parents arrived to visit in the evening, his dad started to cry as he held his newest grandchild.

Our newborn miracle

Aunty Lauren and Aunty Tiffany were also entranced by their niece. My mom and godmother also came towards the end of visiting hours to spend that little bit of time with her before we were at risk of the nurses chasing everyone out. But El had a way of keeping her daddy around for a little bit longer – she decided to have her merconium poo while her aunties were adoring her. So Nik got to stay that little bit longer to change his daughter’s first crappy nappy and, contrary to what people had said, it actually wasn’t such a disgusting activity.

What was difficult was for Nik to go home. I can’t describe the way he felt, I can only imagine how heartbreaking it was. Nik does not do well without me being with him at night, we have only spent a very limited number of nights apart since we first started living together. But this time it was different, it was him needing to go home without me and without his daughter. To say that it was difficult is probably a huge understatement, but he eventually managed to leave the hospital and entrust our care to the nursing staff.

Cuddles with mom

And so I have recounted the birth of my daughter. As I finish writing her birth story, it is one month since that day. Today is a happy one because of my daughter, she has managed to bring joy on two days which would otherwise be associated with sad memories – the day of her birth marked four years since my beloved Callie dog had died and today is one year since the death of a truly wonderful human being, my friend Bianca from university. Even though the last month has been filled with highs and lows, exhaustion, many tears as well as smiles, I can smile today because I have my beautiful daughter.

The picture that earned her the nickname of Granny's Pixie

Eliana was born on a Tuesday and, as the old rhyme has it, that means that she is full of grace. The chorus of her birth song fits in perfectly with that, these words that I have sung to her on numerous occasions in the last month:

“And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.

And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.

Get over your hill and see what you find there,

With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.”

For Eliana – my precious gift from God.

We have daddy's dimples

My beautiful, precious gift from God