Deep sigh. This one's heavy, y'all. It's taken me two-and-a-half years to put my birth story to paper. I hear there's catharsis in this, so here we go.
Every time I set out to write or even talk about Ivan's birth, I would feel this sharp twinge start to rise and want to make it's way out of my body. And then, I would quickly change the subject or stop writing because I was not ready to deal with all of those messy feelings. I think it took a long time to even figure out what I was feeling. Throw in a good dose of mama guilt, sleep deprivation, and the general hormonal shifts (fun!) of being a new mom, and well, talking about something as deeply emotional and personal as his birth story was just asking for a case of the ugly cry.
Ivan was a week "late" for his due date of July 25, 2011. I went in to have my amniotic fluid levels tested as there was concern in the last appointment that my levels were not up to par. If the levels had gone down, I might have to be admitted there and then and begin induction. This, of course, was not possible. I was going to go into labor naturally and have the natural birth I had planned for. So, when the technician brought a doctor over to take a look at what she was seeing in my measurements, the unraveling of my birth plan began.
This was my first pregnancy and the news of being admitted and being induced was the first set of heartbreaks in that I had researched, prepared, and planned for nothing other than a natural delivery. My husband and I dutifully took 6 weeks of hypnobirithing classes.We had a birth plan that was two pages long and had listed the least invasive options for me and my baby. Everything I'd read showed that induction is a domino effect that leads to c-section.
After the foley-bulb induction (the most "natural" of induction choices) and having my water broken 24 hours later yielded no results (despite being in labor the whole time), my hopes for a natural birth were quickly slipping away. Thirty (yes, thirty) hours later when we were still not progressing, and my son's heart rate was dropping, the call for an emergency c-section was made. I was utterly exhausted, defeated, and heart-broken when the doctor told me this was the next step. I remember telling the doctors that I couldn't breathe because I was sobbing so much as I was being cut open. My son was born, I was totally out of it, and I didn't get to hold him for over an hour. Not exactly how I envisioned this all to go down.
And sadly that wasn't what I consider the worst part about this whole experience. After Ivan's birth, I was sent to recover in the early morning hours. I was put in a room right outside the nurse's station, which meant that even though I hadn't slept in DAYS, I would not be able to sleep at all due to their excessively loud talking, laughing, congregating right outside of my door. It seemed like a cruel joke that my husband could not stay with me after undergoing major surgery and I was left to care for a newborn.
The nurses didn't come when I needed help to get to my wailing child. I tried to get to him and my incision throbbed and hurt like a mothafucker. When a nurse finally made her way in, I was in tears. She seemed irritated and not at all compassionate to the situation. As a nurse. As a woman. I just didn't get it. The rest of my stay there was equally awful. I heard nurses make jokes and refer to me as "La Leche" within earshot because I was trying desperately to make sure that breastfeeding worked for us since everything else went to shit. I was a "problem patient" because I asked questions and refused to have my son poked and prodded when he was sleeping (um, come back later please) and because I refused HPV shots for my newborn (pretty sure he's not going to be sexually active before I get to my pediatrician's office). There was more, at lot more that made it so my recovery was not pleasant and uncomfortable.
I've read much since then about how important post-natal care is for both mom and baby and it make me more mad to think that I was robbed of what should have been such a beautiful time. Birth is sacred and beautiful and worthy of respect and care before, during, and after labor. My hospital experience made it so that I know I want better next time around, if we are lucky enough to have the opportunity. And I want better for all moms.
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