Héloïse is six months pregnant when she feels her first contractions. In an emergency, she is transported to the hospital and gives birth to her daughter, Garance. In the book “Skin to skin”, she recounts her dive into prematurity as well as into motherhood.
Héloïse des Monstiers is the mother of three children, the eldest of whom, Garance, has just celebrated her 10th birthday. The birth of this first baby absolutely did not go as planned: the little one was born very early, at 6 months of gestation. In the very intimate story Skin to Skin, Héloïse describes her plunge into motherhood, coupled with the terrifying discovery of prematurity. She recounts, with disconcerting sincerity, her fears, her doubts, the loneliness that surrounds the first months of her child. Beyond the personal story, she wrote it with the 8% premature births each year and to the families who experience this explosion, but also to the women and men who keep the hospital system going and who save the lives of these babies too small to survive. She tells us her story here.
“I took a little while to get pregnant. At the time, I had a good life, I was a journalist as I dreamed of, I had a perfect husband, I had a divine marriage, having to wait before succeeding in getting pregnant is complicated, I’m not very patient, but I’m getting there in the end. The beginnings of my pregnancy are easy, the follow-up is normal. I’m self-employed, I work a lot but with a feeling of fullness, I always want more, and as I feel like doing it, I go. For Christmas, my parents suggest we go and spend a few days in Avoriaz. This place is symbolic for me, I like it a lot, it revitalizes me. Everything is going perfectly well, it’s simple.
Contractions at 6 months pregnant, escorted to hospital
On the night of December 27 to 28, I wake up in the middle of the night because my stomach hurts. I’m in a tiny mountain studio, so in order not to wake my husband, I take refuge in the bathroom. I have blood in my panties. I do exactly what should not be done: I look on the internet. I’m afraid. I google “hospital” and see there aren’t any within an hour’s drive. I call, a nurse answers me and advises me to take a hot shower to soothe me. I manage to go back to bed, until I feel my body thunder louder and louder. I get up to go see my parents in the apartment next door, my mother reassures me. Usually, she is obsessed with security and checks several times that the door is locked. That night, it remained open: I wake them up, I slip into their bed. In a few minutes, she understands that I have contractions, she had 3 children, she knows what it is. I don’t want to believe her, I’m only 6 months pregnantI tell her that she worries me, that she tells nonsense, I blame her. I don’t know what prematurity is, what she tells me seems impossible to me. My father is of the opinion that we should wait until the next morning to go to the hospital, but she insists. A doctor is called who sends a team to escort me out of the station, which is closed to cars. I was picked up by the fire department.
I am told that I will have to give birth right away
Then begins a long road, from the 1800 meters of altitude of Avoriaz, to the valley to reach the hospital of Thonon-les-Bains. We can’t go fast because it’s snowing a lot, we wind between the bends for an hour. In the ambulance, there is no doctor. I lose a lot of blood and I tell myself that I lost my baby, I am convinced that he is dead. My husband thinks he’s losing me. He hears the paramedics say, “go very quickly, she is hemorrhaging, go as fast as possible!“When I got to the hospital, the first thing I was told was that my baby is alive. Both of us come down from our disaster scenarios: I’m not going to die and our baby is not dead. On the other hand, I am told that I will have to give birth right away. I’m in pajamas, covered in blood, I don’t have my papers, I haven’t done any childbirth preparation course. There is no anesthetist for the gynecological department, I ask for an epidural, but I will never have it. At that time, I experienced a feeling of extreme violence: I wanted to wake up from this nightmare, I didn’t understand anything, no one explained to me what was going on, I got yelled at because I didn’t give birth. fast enough. At the same time, there is absolute urgency, I know they are doing what they can, we are in a level 1 hospital, without the necessary expertise for premature babies, nor the machines. They call a doctor from Chambery, who arrives and takes my baby in an ambulance. My husband is not allowed to accompany them. I don’t even know if I gave birth to a girl or a boy. For several hours, I won’t even know if I gave life at all.
I don’t know if my baby is dead or alive
Three hours ago I was pregnant, everything was fine. Now I don’t know if my baby is dead or alive. I feel extremely guilty, without understanding why. The day of December 28 is a marathon, a battle to be able to leave this hospital and join that of Chambéry where our child is. The doctors are not in favor of my release, but I win my case by signing a discharge. Once in the ambulance, everything becomes lighter. I know my baby is alive, it’s a girl. My husband declared it to the town hall. Her name is Garance, the name I’ve always dreamed of. I am now waiting for the romantic encounter with my baby, I tell myself that everything will work out. I still don’t know what a premature baby is. I don’t know what that entails.
Babies only function thanks to machines, in neonatal resuscitation
Arriving at the Chambéry maternity ward, on the door of my room, there is not her first name, only mine. I tell myself that she is dead, I ask the teams to tell me the truth. I am told that she is not there: she is in neonatal resuscitation. We go down there and the lightness suddenly leaves me, the image is violent, the babies who are here only function thanks to machines. They tell me “there’s your baby”, but she doesn’t look like the baby I dreamed of at all. I say to myself, it’s already good, she has a head, two arms, two legs, she’s a real baby. These are my first moments with my child and I can’t do anything, I have a nursery nurse who serves as my chaperone. That evening, I tell myself that I will have to succeed in creating something with this child and I am convinced that I will never succeed.
I dreamed of loving her, but seeing her in this state asked me to protect myself, to put myself at a distance. It was the only way it wouldn’t hurt me too much. I was faced with a reality that I had not been able to anticipate, when I had in mind what we are taught, “this will be your first child, you will be a loving mother, you will love her right away“, we imagine a baby all pink, all chubby, in good health. All this does not exist for us. I live to the rhythm of the hospital and I have to learn to become a mother. I cling to our first skin to skin, which I look forward to. But the day he is due to arrive, she has a cardiac arrest. She is revived. We can’t project ourselves, every day is a day of gain. But I want to break everything, every day. I am torn between suffering and admiration for this little being. I try not to worry anyone, I play the perfect girl, who does what is expected of her. I try to stay positive.
I want her to come home with a machine
My husband has returned to work in Paris, he joins us on weekends. I live in a rental in Chambéry, I am alone, I spend my life going back and forth with the hospital, juggling with a range of intense emotions. I’m terribly angry with him for not being with us. But 10 years ago, there was little talk of paternity leave… We move away a lot, the couple becomes unbalanced. To the extent that, our baby’s health is improving, my hope is growing, he believes in it less and less. He especially echoes the terrible moments, I call him when something serious happens. Less when things calm down. Little by little, however, she gained in autonomy and could be transferred to Paris. Until the day they tell me I can get her back, go home with her. I’m so scared ! I want her to come home with a machine to control her, I don’t feel capable of having her without doctors to intervene, just in case.
She’s healthy, but we’re still traumatized, everything does not work out at that time. We get there, we don’t overprotect it. But I live with the permanent doubt: what sequelae will it keep? Each check-up appointment, each growth retardation is a ball of terrible anguish. I did a very big job on myself, to have other children. I succeeded, but I had two other premature babies, because they realized that I had a uterine malformation. I was angry but I had my marks for those other two times. I was much less scared. We played Russian roulette three times, and I decided to stop tempting fate! Today they are all well.