Home Birth + Surviving A Uterine Inversion: The Birth Of Gabriel Forest, *TW [Part #4]

10 min readJan 24, 2024

This is a continuation of my birth journey — read Part #1 here + Part #2 here + Part #3 here.

Trigger Warning: If you are expecting, I would not recommend reading my story quite yet. While a uterine inversion is an extremely rare condition — I believe that it’s best to only surround yourself with positive, uplifting birth stories while pregnant, like my home birth with Noah. While my birth story with Gabriel was traumatic, I can’t help but also feel so empowered by it — I am so, so grateful to be alive + to have a healthy baby boy in my arms. My life has been forever changed + I am very lucky to be able to share my story.

Something Is Wrong

A few minutes after Gabriel was born, I notice that I was starting to bleed. Since I had COVID during my third trimester, I knew I might experience more blood loss after birth — I wanted a shot of pitocin if this were to happen. I said to my midwife, “Abby, I’m bleeding.” She looked at the birth tub + apparently at that moment, it was a normal amount of blood loss. Still, she gave me a shot of Pitocin.

My midwife checked to see where my placenta was at since the cord was white — she could tell that the placenta was an inch away from being delivered. She told me to give her a big push to push the placenta out… I did, but nothing moved. She asked if I was pushing — I said I was [since typically it’s easy to push the placenta out]. Isaac said something along the lines of, “You did the hardest part — this should be easy.”

Next thing I knew, my midwife was trying to guide it out, + I said “STOP STOP STOP oweeee”, wincing it pain. She looked at me concerned, “What’s wrong? What are you feeling?” I told her that my hip ligaments felt like they were being pulled out with my placenta — it was such a terrible sensation. At that point my placenta was halfway out + she could feel a hardening on the placenta. She asked for my doula to look at it + I remembering hearing things thrown out like: “Tumor?” “Fibroid?” “Another head?”

Surprisingly, I wasn’t panicking despite hearing those words [especially tumor] — I think because I was so exhausted + starting to become in a daze from the loss of blood. At that point, they weren’t able to see the bottom of the pool… which signals that I have lost too much blood. It was also starting to get hard to see the placenta, which was still half in + half out — that’s when they said that I needed to get out of the water.

My photographer + Isaac helped me out of the water + that’s when things start to get even more fuzzy. I was still holding onto Gabriel, + I remember feeling so weak — like couldn’t stand up on my own. I put my entire weight into my photographer + Isaac’s arms. Thankfully, they got Gabriel + I into bed safely.

Laying on my bed with Gabriel on my chest, my placenta half out, my cervix totally prolapsed — they still didn’t know what the hard mass on my placenta was. My midwife said, “I think that might be her uterus.” My midwife called an OB multiple times, but she never picked up [she wasn’t on call for me + it was 4am, so she wasn’t expected to]. I remember noticing them getting frustrated, wondering why she wasn’t picking up. Finally, my midwife said — “Isaac, call 911.”

Call 911

At some point, my midwife put in an IV in me for fluids [I don’t remember this at all]. I was going in + out at this point. Apparently, I kept closing my eyes + Isaac would manually open them back up + say, “Elisabeth stay with me.” They had me repeat “firetruck” [Noah’s favorite word] + I guess I said it back to them a few times. What I do remember very clearly is my photographer praying in my ear, while I was still holding Gabriel [I later found out that she was totally supporting him on my chest, so that we could still be skin to skin — truly so sweet of her], “Please God, let the placenta detach naturally” over + over again.

Isaac went to our kitchen to look for the firetruck + flashing lights. It took them 6 minutes to get here — I’ve never been so grateful to live so close to the fire department + multiple hospitals. Isaac ran outside to get them + showed them where our apartment was.

The Firemen Enter Our House

I remember “knowing” that the firemen had come into our room — the best way I can describe it is that I could feel the noise + chaos, but it was a muffled sound. I felt above my body, rather than “in” my body. Even though I had a “knowing” that things were very intense + that I was going to the hospital — there was no fear, only a deep sense of peace. Then, I faded… these next moments I describe were told to me by others.

They took my blood pressure [40/20] + could not get a pulse on me. They gave me a shot of epinephrine, which is used to raise the heart rate + blood pressure. Apparently, there was one fireman who wanted to take his time + access the situation [which is normal] — but one of the firemen registered the severity of the situation + was like, “We need to leave NOW.” He said that if the ambulance wasn’t here by the time they brought me downstairs, they were going to take me to the hospital in the firetruck.

Before we left for the hospital, Isaac left the room to get my health insurance card — apparently, my head turned to follow him out the door + I opened my eyes to look at our photographer who had left my side once the firemen came + was holding Gabriel in her arms. She later said that it looked like I was searching for an anchor + I saw it in her + Gabriel. She said that the look I gave her will forever be burned in her memory. She kept repeating, “Elisabeth, Isaac, Noah, Gabriel” to try to get me to stay awake.

I slightly remember the sensation of being lifted out of bed. Still, it didn’t feel like I was “in” my body — it felt like I was floating. I was carried out in our bedsheets — blood dripping everywhere. Isaac told me that our house looked like a crime scene. I left a trail of blood from the bed, to the door, down the stairs… everyone saw not only the sheets drenched in blood, but blood continuing to drip out from the sheets — that’s when they realized just how much blood was lost.

The epinephrine must have kicked in as soon as we got out outside, because the next thing I remember [after hearing the firemen come in the bedroom + then fading away soon after] was feeling the sensation of water trickling on my forehead. I thought that it was a fireman holding a bag of water above my head, dripping water on my forehead trying to help me wake up. Later, I found out that the sensation I was feeling was rain. It was raining outside!

Isaac visited the firemen a few days later to express his gratitude, + one of the firemen later said to him —

“We see a lot of death + she had the face of death on her. Had we come in 60 seconds later, we would have had to perform CPR. Oftentimes things go wrong, but from the moment we walked through the door, every single thing went right. I don’t know if you believe in a higher power, but there was no doubt someone was watching over her.”

Heading To The ER

As soon as the firemen got down the steps, the gurney was ready + the ambulance was there. My midwife rode in the ambulance with me. Isaac later said that was a regret of his — he said: “What if you had died in the ambulance? That would have been my last moments with you.”

Noah was still sleeping [thank GOD he slept through everything] + Gabriel stayed back with my doula + photographer. Gabriel actually got his first sips of breastmilk spoon-fed from my photographer’s breastmilk + I cried out of gratitude when I found that out at the hospital later on — such an incredible gift. I felt so, so appreciative that our boys were being so well taken care of.

I started to regain consciousness in the ambulance + the first thing I said was — “Is my placenta still hanging out of my body?”

I have no idea what they said back [assuming they said — yes, it’s still there], but I remember starting to cry + saying — “Thank you so much for helping me, thank you so much for helping me” over + over again. As I registered that I was still with the firemen, the thought came upon me that made me smile inside — “Wow, Noah would love that I’m with firemen right now.” I saw one person standing above me, + one person sitting beside me in the ambulance, + I asked them if I could close my eyes, that I promised I would stay awake, but they said… “No, keep your eyes open, stay with us.” I must have gone back unconscious after that because I don’t remember getting out of the ambulance + being wheeled to the ER.

Blood Transfusions + Reinserting My Uterus

I have no recollection of any of this, but Isaac got to the ER almost as soon as I did. There were 10 medical staff surrounding me, + the firemen were still there — not wanting to leave until they saw me stabilize. They immediately set up multiple bags of blood transfusions + pretty quickly I started to get life back into my face. I later found out that I lost ~60% of my blood.

The OB on call immediately came down [a God moment since she knew exactly what to do for a uterine inversion]. Isaac doesn’t remember how she was able to remove my placenta + uterus from my body, but he remembers seeing both organs in her hands, talking through what she was doing to the residents watching, while manually removing the uterus from the placenta. She tried 2.5x to put my contracted uterus back inside of me. Apparently I was conscious at this point + in so much pain based on my reaction [my eyes were bulging out + my neck whipped back]. Finally, someone said to give me fentanyl + my midwife asked to wait to try again until it was fully kicked in [1–2 minutes]. After that, the OB tried 2 more times, + eventually it was inserted back into my body. She had half of her arm… all the way up to her elbow… inside of me, which is so unfathomable to think about. I guess fentanyl has an “amnesia” effect 15 minutes before as well as after, which is why I don’t remember the pain or anything related to this moment.

I don’t know if this was before, during, or after my uterus re-insertion — but I do remember saying “Thank you so much for helping me, thank you so much for helping me” over + over again to the medical staff at the ER as well. That was one of the themes of this experience for sure — despite being in such a fog, I felt such a deep sense of gratitude for everyone that was working in my favor to keep me alive. I also remember telling Isaac to tell my parents that I loved them. I wanted that to be the last thing that they heard from me, in case I died. There was so much going on that he didn’t hear me, not to mention he was processing everything in such a different way… witnessing his wife almost slip away from him. Thankfully, soon enough — the emergency was over.

Stabilizing

5:17am — Isaac texted our birth team: “Elisabeth is stable + conscious. Lost a lot of blood, but emergency is over”

5:18am — Isaac + I’s first photo post emergency together [bottom left]. Once I “woke up” I saw Isaac + my midwife by my side. I asked them — “What happened?” They filled me in as best as they could. I listened while still in a daze, trying to process everything that had happened.

6:29am — Gabriel came to the hospital + my midwife left. That’s when I realized how many IV’s were attached to me because it was initially hard to hold him. Soon, I found a position that was comfortable + there’s no doubt holding Gabriel in my arms so soon after the emergency expedited my healing process[+ keeping him on my chest for at least 12 hours]. His warm body. His soft skin. His heart beat. His smell. His sheer presence. He brought me so much comfort + peace.

8:45am — Noah met Gabriel for the first time. Definitely not the moment that I envisioned. Noah kept saying, “Mama, mama” in such a concerned tone — clearly sensing that something was wrong. Eventually, he gave Gabriel a sweet kiss, but he was definitely hesitant, wondering what was going on. He was only in the ER for a few minutes to say hi, but I’m so glad we were able to see him.

9:28am — First breastfeed. Isaac helped Gabriel latch, + I felt so grateful that he was able to latch right away. Around this time, the OB came in to check on me. I think she recognized that we didn’t understand the severity of what had just happened, so she said very clearly: