My Birth Story

As I sit upright in bed typing this story out, our precious baby boy is lying in front of me. I can hear his soft snores and see his eyes flickering from inside his eyelids as if he’s dreaming of something spectacular. Occasionally, his lips will part as a smile creeps across his face; a moment I never want to miss. Bringing him into this world was a miracle, there is no doubt. From conception to birth, he overcame so many obstacles to be here sleeping in front of me this morning.

It is my honor to introduce you to London Elliott Hartman, the boy that has already stolen our hearts and changed our world.

London made his debut in the early morning on Sunday, April 11th, screaming as he found a perfectly warm spot on my exposed chest. Hearing his cry was the most wonderful and welcome sound as it reassured me that he was okay. It was truly a surreal moment; one that I wish I could relive over and over again, even as I hold him tightly in my arms now.

Now, let me backup a bit and catch you up on the details of Mr London’s arrival.

After a complicated pregnancy with Hashimoto’s disease and Intrauterine growth restriction (IUGR) in the fourth trimester, my doctor decided to induce me at 39 weeks for the best interest of the baby. In short, he was no longer growing inside of my belly, and although he was only measuring about 5lbs, it was determined that he would have a better chance at gaining weight on the outside. All in all, the risks of keeping him in for another week outweighed the risks of being induced early.

We scheduled my induction for early Saturday morning on that Thursday prior. It gave me enough time to squeeze in a last-minute hair appointment, get a negative Covid test, wander around a vintage market aimlessly while soaking in the last moments with my belly, and enjoy a couple great meals with Sam at home.

As much as I tried to naturally induce myself with long walks, squats, and spicy Indian food, London was adamant about staying inside for as long as he could.

Sam and I put the finishing touches on our overnight bags, kissed Oliver goodbye, and headed to the hospital first thing Saturday morning. We were checked into our suite by 9am and I was able to begin the pitocin drip shortly after that. 

At the time of being checked, I was 2 centimeters dilated and 50% effaced. We then did a quick membrane sweep which wasn’t nearly as painful as I heard it would be.

With my printed birth plan in hand, I asked to labor on a yoga ball for as long as possible. My intent was to have an unmedicated vaginal birth using hypnobirthing, different standing/sitting positions, and Sam’s support (although I was determined to keep a very open mind throughout the process). I was watching Youtube videos covering various techniques as our labor playlist sang in the background and Sam joked about how I let my butt hang out of my gown without a care in the world.

The nurse asked me what my pain level was as she saw the contractions begin on my monitor, but I continued to tell her that I was comfortable at a pain level of 1 on a scale of 10; I barely felt anything at all except maybe a light cramp here and there. 

By the time my pitocin reached level 8 however, the entire mood in the room shifted. My nurse and doctor came rushing in at one point notifying us that the baby was not reacting well to the pitocin and that his levels were unstable indicating that his cord was compressed. 

Immediately, we stopped the pitocin, started fluids, and moved me to the bed where I laid on my left side with an oxygen mask. At this point, they started discussing the high possibility of doing a C-section, but said that they would give him a little time to see if his heart rate returned to normal first. 

After what felt like forever, they said that he liked this position much better and they would continue to bring him back to stable levels before restarting pitocin. Some time later, we began pitocin again (but at an even slower rate this time) and I continued to labor in the bed switching from my left to right side periodically.

At this point, we decided that it was a good time for Sam to run back to the house to check on Oliver, grab dinner, and pick up a spicy Chick-fil-A sandwich for me to eat post-delivery. It was likely that nothing would be open at the time of London’s birth and I was starving considering I hadn’t eaten anything except a mug of chicken broth since 7am that morning.

Once Sam got back, my contractions were progressively getting more intense as I breathed through them, squeezed Sam’s hand, and sniffed the lavender essential oil tab the hospital provided. Once the doctor was pleased with London’s vitals after getting back to my original pitocin level, he decided to break my water to try to speed up the rest of the process. 

After my water broke, the contractions really started to pick up and I was at a pain level of 6 when the doctor checked me again and said that I was still only 2.5 centimeters dilated. At this point, I began to worry if I would have the energy to continue on for hours upon hours if this was how slowly I was progressing. 

By the time my pain level reached 8 on the scale, I was nearly in tears using my breath to get me through each wave of contractions. Sam reminded me that I didn’t need to make myself suffer and that if I wanted an epidural it wouldn’t make me any less strong. I didn’t realize how badly I needed to hear it until he said those words.

I considered the options and ended up asking for an epidural soon after. Once the anesthesiologist finally got to my room, the contractions were so strong that I felt like I could barely catch my breath. I was hunched over with one nurse tying up my hair in a bun and Sam rubbing my shoulders as I moaned loudly through the last few before the numbing sensation kicked in. 

After the epidural worked its magic and I could no longer feel the bottom half of my body, I kept saying, “I’m so glad I got this. Best decision ever.” I didn’t feel “loopy” or out of it in any way which was the reason I was initially hesitant to get it. In many ways, it allowed me to become much more present throughout the remainder of London’s birth.

As the hours passed, Sam and I watched a couple episodes of ‘Diners, Drive-In’s, and Dives’ (decidedly one of our favorite shows), and spent our time laughing, napping, and relaxing until the nurses came in to check me just before 2am and announced suddenly that it was TIME. They seemed just as surprised as we were when they said, “you’re having a baby tonight!” and we all cheered.

Our suite quickly filled up with several more nurses, specialists, and my doctor who set up at the edge of my bed before instructing Sam to grab my right leg and prop it up for me to begin pushing. 

With the epidural, I could not feel anything which I was equally thankful for and amazed by, watching my body work to deliver London without a single ounce of pain on my end. The nurses coached me through the next phase and with each contraction I took a deep breath, squeezed my eyes tightly closed, and focused on pushing as hard as I could.

After about 15 minutes of pushing, the doctor said that they could see his head and asked if I wanted to feel it. I reached down and shot back the most surprised eyes that sent everyone into giggles. The nurse asked, “did you not believe us?”

We later found out that the umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck which was the cause of the earlier complications.

A couple pushes later and I heard the words, “open your eyes, he’s here” and just as I looked down to see him in my doctor’s arms I heard his first cry. His arms were stretched wide and his legs were kicking. I could hardly believe he was real.

After the umbilical cord stopped pulsating, Sam cut it and they placed him onto my bare chest. My eyes were glued to him in pure astonishment and Sam stood over us with tears in his eyes and told me how proud he was of me.

Reflecting back on his birth, the hours that followed feel like time simply stood still. There was nothing in the world that mattered except the three of us right there in that room. All we could do was stare at him and each other in awe for what felt like forever.

Bringing London Elliott Hartman into the world is now my most cherished memory and a day I will never forget. I wouldn't change a single thing about my birth experience; my body did the best it could and our baby boy got here safely. We couldn't possibly ask for more.

4/11/21: The day that changed our lives forever.

London Elliott Hartman, 5lbs 2oz

Want more pregnancy-related posts? Check out How I’m Preparing for Labor, Pregnancy Style: 5 Must-Have Maternity Staples, and DIY Mama and Babe Denim Jackets.

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xo Anna Elizabeth