I thought I would continue in filling y'all in on what transpires for "normal" births around here.
It is now September 5, 2006.
We stayed with our first OB/GYN because we really liked him. However, he moved from a private office and affiliation with the General Hospital to Head of the Dept at Montfort Hospital. I foolishly thought that working in the hospital would have him doing the delivery. 2nd time wrong on that score. I was going to encounter another group of strangers running in and out off the room with no regard for me or my desire for quiet.
At around 5am I am awoken with mild contractions that don't feel strong enough to cause any alarm so I rest until it is time to meet my oldest son's kindergarten teacher at 11am. Yes it is the first day of school. And yes I manage to cram my unusually large bottom onto a toddler chair whilst enjoying the mild progress of labour. Nutter! I should have called and postponed it. But it never occurred to my vacant pregnant brain.
I wanted to move things along so by 2pm I was power walking through Bayshore Shopping Centre and I mean I did 4 laps of the top floor in less than ten minutes! Seriously bookin my butt. After 5pm I felt that I had waited long enough and we were going to the hospital. My contractions were plaguing my lower back, hips and pelvic bone so I wasn't comfortable anywhere but on my sides. They put me on my back and check me out, only 2cm dilated. "Go away and come back later." Seriously! I was less than 5 minutes apart and I had to leave!!
It takes over 30 minutes to get home and I was not going home, so we wandered around an abandoned section of hospital, it was the day clinic area, and conveniently had a washroom, where I needed to pee a million times!
By the time things are progressing enough to say that I can no longer walk during a contraction it was after 8pm and I was marching myself back up there and refusing to leave. Thankfully, it didn't need to come to that as I was far enough along that they let me stay. I was surprised to notice the lack of nursing presence in these next two hours, however, as there weren't enough to go around and September is a popular month for deliveries....Merry Christmas(hehehe)!!
But I was visited by a quick acting nurse and rushed into the delivery room. Well, she tried to rush me, I preferred to walk at my own pace! The nurses tried to get the anaesthesiologist to come in but I didn't want it, even though I couldn't say a word.
What happened to me was surreal. Without numbing drugs to take me into a different reality, I went into a different reality anyway, but it was wonderful, swirly and clouded. All I felt was the movements my unborn son was doing. Sure there was heavy breathing, discomfort, pain. But it fell so much more connected, beautiful and real. I knew that I was probably scaring the crap out of DH who told me how proud he was of me, how much he loved me and how sorry he was that he did this to me by whispering into my ear for some kind of privacy. I couldn't respond but was overwhelmed with love for him that I know I cried and that it was probably misunderstood.
Before I could get a grip on what else was going on I heard a nurse say that the drugs weren't coming, even though I didn't care, and another say that it's too late anyway. I knew that baby was coming, my muscles were doing things I never thought possible, yet they shouted at me not to push.
Did these people come from the same place???
How can you not when your body says yes!! do it!! now its time!!
I literally had to squeeze my knees together because I felt him sliding out and there was no one paying attention to me to catch him....They were to busy with their damn computers and the millions of questions that they asked twenty times! seriously! (and had to answer another hundred before my three days in hell were over!)
After that I was finally able to push, and with two pushes he was born....I threw in a loud scream for the hell of it even though I didn't feel I needed to really, but wanted to protest the whole shebang. After getting stitched up by a student, which did a lousy job of it, even though I yet again felt it wasn't needed I was trying to breastfeed for the first time, with everyone coming and going with no regard to privacy or quiet. Not successful.
But this time no one took him away from me, although they lost his blood work three times over the course of the next three days and kept hacking at his heels to do it again, and this was on top of the few times they "missed".
I was brought to a shared room, even though I wanted private, at around midnight, a window seat again. I was left alone for a while but come morning my troubles were to start again.
September 6th, 2006
In comes the nurse, the breakfast tray, and a few loved ones....and my oldest boy with the sweetest ceramic flowers....because they last forever, Mommy! I was out of diapers very soon and when I asked for more was scolded for not bringing my own.
What?? Did I miss the memo??
I didn't have a hospital tour and my delivery was two weeks early but I don't think that would have changed for this info was just plain wrong!!
That is when I met my first "personal care" nurse...AKA The Breastfeeding Nazi.
I was faced with a pushy woman with clown makeup, (not kidding, hot pink cheeks and lips and bright blue eyeshadow!) She kept at me...try again, no not that way shove more breast in with the nipple. I got a great latch finally, however there was nothing coming out and he was screaming at me for the work he was doing with no rewards. Then she had me massaging my breast to help the flow and every time I did, it would pop out of his mouth. She asked me to give it a good squeeze so she could see how much was coming out. Then she asked my DH to help me squeeze and massage my breast for me! Well, OMG!! This was kept up every two hours!! I was hurting from all the squeezing and jaw grinding my baby was doing.
Then the lactation consultant came in, "So your not succeeding are you??" Does that sound like a nice way to ask if I could use some help? Where is the warm person who is supposed to understand?? She didn't have any kids either....what is with that?? Now to make matters worse, my beautiful window view became a little muddied up by the big burly man standing outside my window with a hammer in his hand.
DOES THIS SOUND FAMILIAR??? WTF!!
Honestly four years later, and the same predicament.
My first two days were a whirl of the Nazis poking and prodding me repeatedly, nagging me and scolding me. Not only were they refusing to give me anymore diapers they flatly refused to give me formula to feed my baby because he couldn't get enough out of me, even after they brought a gigantic rolling machine to suck the milk right out of me.
So I did what any self respecting mother woulddo....I had my DH sneak out to buy diapers and ready to serve formula and I snuck it to him when the nurses left me alone long enough. They felt they had succeeded in converting me into a breast feeder. I continued to try because I wanted to so much, but I wouldn't starve my baby and let him scream in hunger for hours.
Day two and day three were by far the worst of the three days I spent in there. A new set of nurses came on and was poked and prodded again, and scolded for having hemorrhoids....I didn't actually...and scolded for trying to feed my baby when I felt he wanted it instead of by a clock. And then the man outside my window was there again, and another outside my door with a loud scrubbing machine and strong smelling chemicals to strip the floors of the filth....I hadn't slept well at all. The nurses kept taking him out of my room at night to I would "stop fussing with him and get to sleep already". They had made the woman in the bed next to me cry that last night because they told her not to pick up her crying baby and cuddle with her and talk and sing with her. The nurse turned the woman's light out herself before leaving the room....I opened my curtain (which they adamantly leave closed) and told her that it was beautiful what she was singing (some kind of sweet Arabic song) and to not stop, it didn't bother us. So gratefully, she did, and I fell asleep too!
The next morning I was harassed by a camerabed woman and told her to leave me be, I was not interested. But no others came by. Until the first nurse of the day. I told her I wanted to go home before the end of the day and wanted to make sure that I would get my paperwork from her before then. In a huff, she said that I would not leave until the doctors cleared me to go. I have to add here that I was getting feisty with this woman because for the last three days she kept treating me as a stupid invalid who could not care for her child, and when I constantly reminded her that this was my second and I knew what I was doing and wanted to get back home to care for them both, I was met with more disdain. But she got the point when the lunch time tray was brought in and I was dressed, packed and the baby was in his car seat....we were leaving whether she liked it or not and I was prepared to leave without the papers too...I figured my doctor could pull strings and get copies for herself when she needed it.
I was almost not given permission to leave however as they lost my baby's blood work again, now the fourth time, and I refuse to allow them to take any more. The pediatrician said "then we can't keep you, he's been fine and you'll see your doctor soon enough anyway".
So we left. Finally after 6pm.
It is interesting to note here that with two births, one drugged and the other not, how different I feel toward each child. The connection is definitely different between the two, and there is a part of me that feels robbed by that loss of connection.
Monday, October 3, 2011
My First Birth Story
I wanted to help all of you get to know me and my birthing history. I feel that it adds to the explanation of what it is I am doing now. So lets begin with ::
September 15th 2002
My pseudo-surprise baby shower in my parents backyard was a fantastic day. The weather was cooperating and everyone who mattered was there. I looked like hell by the way, I was pushing 265lbs and barely looked pregnant let alone like me. My best friends from school had actually walked right passed me not recognizing me at all! I had gained weight but was also retaining ALOT of water as even my hand and face were grossly squishy.
September 16th 2002
Monday morning- 5am- I woke up to use the washroom - again....and notice more than the usual amount of pee....hmmm....suspicious. But I went back to bed and there I stayed for the remainder of the day. Up to this point I would occasionally have mild contractions in my lower back and today was no different. I was incredibly tired and decided that today is as good as any to get those thank you cards written up. Thankfully I had done them all in this one day, because it would be the last chance I would have to get to them!
Monday night dinner at the In-laws and the contractions in my lower back had not yet stopped, but hadn't gotten worse either, so I figured that it would happen soon enough. My breathing had gotten thicker and heavier before the end of dinner so DH and I went home early to get some sleep. Laying in bed helping DH write up a new job description for a new job he was starting the very next day, contractions starting getting heavier. We had gone to those "birthing classes" and knew that if you could no longer hold a conversation through your contractions that it was a good indicator that it was time to go to the hospital.
But my contractions were coming every two minutes and I was still talking through it all, DH called the hospital to talk to the Maternity Nurse and while I talked to her she knew that I had a few contractions during it all. "Come on in"
10pm- arrival to the hospital to be strapped down to a table, on my back (did I mention the contractions were all in my back??) I didn't want to be in this position I wanted to be on my hand and knees, but I was Not Allowed. DH left then to move the care from the drop off area to the parking garage, and was gone for almost an hour! I was given the OK to move to a delivery room...thankfully they let me walk, and thankfully again those railings are held on the walls very well! By this time it is after midnight...then the anaesthesiologist comes in...and the nurse asks me if I have one of those "tramp stamps" on my back with an awful tone in her voice. When they see the I don't have a tattoo on my back they both say to each other "Thank God for that, cause we won't do it otherwise" no tactful explanation.
I will never have one of those again!!
September 17th- wee early hours.
Crouch over your belly tightly and don't move a muscle.
Hmm...my muscles are moving of their own accord in the process of expelling a baby from its midst....very useful person- aka man
The staff at some point decide to attach an IV drip to my arm, when I expressly stated I did not want one, as I felt that the need to move around freely during my labour was important. That was when I also learned that the drugs in my back were actually still attached to me...in my lower back....made the contractions worse for a while, until they stopped...and that does happen because the drugs they give you to dull the pain actually relax your muscles. They then pump in another drug into my IV to make the contractions step it up a notch or a thousand.
By this point I am devastated. I had so carefully avoided anything that may harm my baby, caffeine, excess sugar, salt, fatty foods. I ate healthier than I ever had, exercised by walking often and swimming. And here they were allowing my baby to swim in drugs. Professionalism stopped them from telling me to shut up, but I felt the words hanging there in the words they did use...Oh he'll be fine, it's nothing.
My stomach does this strange morphing as my body feels calmed by the need to push.....DON'T PUSH!!
What? Why??
They tell me when it is "safe" to push but I had to wait quite a bit longer. Finally, just after 430 am he's born.
I am stitched up, because it turns out that my 4lb13oz baby tore me....does that sound right to you??
Then they check him out, check his blood yaddda yadda.....I held him for a few minutes before they took him back and the entire room cleared out, including my DH. I am still attached to the IV and the stirrups and I need to pee and I am all alone and shaking uncontrollably.
The thing in my back was gone and I was beginning to feel my legs again so I got up with great difficulty and had to jump off the dang bed it was so high off the ground and make my way into the washroom alone. When I got out there was a nurse there and she started scolding me for not waiting!
Unreal!
I am then brought to my room and am happy to see a nice view from the window. Things are looking up! I was able to get some sleep but woke in a panic when I heard a baby cry in the cloth cubicle next to me. My mild panic turns into a wave to terror and tears ad still no one I know is to be found near me...including my baby. DH come to see me as I am trying to eat a hospital breakfast of crap tea and God knows what else! And he is able to tell me that the baby has been brought to NICU.
If you thought the tears and waves of panic before were bad, look out!
When I was finally calmed down, DH brought me to see him, and I was promptly scolded again for not coming sooner! How was I to know? No one told me! Remember me, anyone?
He was so tiny I was afraid of him. But I held him and fed him formula from the most tiny bottle ever. But by the end of the day I was finally able to bring him back to my room and keep him. Then it came time for lights out and then he screamed and couldn't be soothed. I wanted to feed him but the nurse came in and said "Don't feed him again....you need to feed him every four hours, he's already fed he's fine." Then she took him out of my room and left me alone again "to get sleep" I am not sure about you but being under 5lbs with a stomach that can only handle about 2-3 ounces a feeding, waiting 4 hours before the next one is too damn long. But I am a first time mom and know nothing, right?
I couldn't breastfeed the poor darling, even though I tried so hard that the lactation consultant told me to give up. He wouldn't latch on. How can you blame him? His mouth opened as large as a quarter and my nipple and area was the diameter of a pop can....proportions are wrong here. So I pumped the meager amount that was willing to drop and that lasted two weeks before giving up completely.
But while the lactation consultant, whom had never had a child of her own and therefore could not understand why I was crying out in pain, was spending her afternoon trying to convince my baby how to latch on, the view outside my window had changed considerably. I was now staring into the face and large torso of a burly man with a hammer. I was on the 8th floor. Not a comfortable predicament to say the least.
Needless to say that I was itching to get out of there.
September 18th
I was finally getting into the swing of things. I was changing diapers, feeding him with a bottle (which the hospital gave me both of liberally) and even bathed him, even though the nurse did not want to show me the correct way to do this. When a knock at the door provided me with my first unsolicited visitor.
Over the next two hours I had the welcome wagon lady drop in, a life insurance lady drop in, the photobed woman drop in and countless nurses and students. The photobed lady came in with her camera and infant bad step-up and we thought it would be a great picture to have, until she started poking him in the face with a bottle nipple on her finger to make him open his eyes. She had told me not to feed him but she was on hour late, so he fell asleep and scolded me for not listening to her instructions. Sigh! Who's the child in this room?? Eventually I got a picture taken with his eyes closed and am still grateful as the eyes open pictures look like they have been possessed by the devil. But if it weren't for my DH she would have been wearing her photobed around her neck for poking him.
By the next morning we were packed up and waiting to go home.
September 15th 2002
My pseudo-surprise baby shower in my parents backyard was a fantastic day. The weather was cooperating and everyone who mattered was there. I looked like hell by the way, I was pushing 265lbs and barely looked pregnant let alone like me. My best friends from school had actually walked right passed me not recognizing me at all! I had gained weight but was also retaining ALOT of water as even my hand and face were grossly squishy.
September 16th 2002
Monday morning- 5am- I woke up to use the washroom - again....and notice more than the usual amount of pee....hmmm....suspicious. But I went back to bed and there I stayed for the remainder of the day. Up to this point I would occasionally have mild contractions in my lower back and today was no different. I was incredibly tired and decided that today is as good as any to get those thank you cards written up. Thankfully I had done them all in this one day, because it would be the last chance I would have to get to them!
Monday night dinner at the In-laws and the contractions in my lower back had not yet stopped, but hadn't gotten worse either, so I figured that it would happen soon enough. My breathing had gotten thicker and heavier before the end of dinner so DH and I went home early to get some sleep. Laying in bed helping DH write up a new job description for a new job he was starting the very next day, contractions starting getting heavier. We had gone to those "birthing classes" and knew that if you could no longer hold a conversation through your contractions that it was a good indicator that it was time to go to the hospital.
But my contractions were coming every two minutes and I was still talking through it all, DH called the hospital to talk to the Maternity Nurse and while I talked to her she knew that I had a few contractions during it all. "Come on in"
10pm- arrival to the hospital to be strapped down to a table, on my back (did I mention the contractions were all in my back??) I didn't want to be in this position I wanted to be on my hand and knees, but I was Not Allowed. DH left then to move the care from the drop off area to the parking garage, and was gone for almost an hour! I was given the OK to move to a delivery room...thankfully they let me walk, and thankfully again those railings are held on the walls very well! By this time it is after midnight...then the anaesthesiologist comes in...and the nurse asks me if I have one of those "tramp stamps" on my back with an awful tone in her voice. When they see the I don't have a tattoo on my back they both say to each other "Thank God for that, cause we won't do it otherwise" no tactful explanation.
I will never have one of those again!!
September 17th- wee early hours.
Crouch over your belly tightly and don't move a muscle.
Hmm...my muscles are moving of their own accord in the process of expelling a baby from its midst....very useful person- aka man
The staff at some point decide to attach an IV drip to my arm, when I expressly stated I did not want one, as I felt that the need to move around freely during my labour was important. That was when I also learned that the drugs in my back were actually still attached to me...in my lower back....made the contractions worse for a while, until they stopped...and that does happen because the drugs they give you to dull the pain actually relax your muscles. They then pump in another drug into my IV to make the contractions step it up a notch or a thousand.
By this point I am devastated. I had so carefully avoided anything that may harm my baby, caffeine, excess sugar, salt, fatty foods. I ate healthier than I ever had, exercised by walking often and swimming. And here they were allowing my baby to swim in drugs. Professionalism stopped them from telling me to shut up, but I felt the words hanging there in the words they did use...Oh he'll be fine, it's nothing.
My stomach does this strange morphing as my body feels calmed by the need to push.....DON'T PUSH!!
What? Why??
They tell me when it is "safe" to push but I had to wait quite a bit longer. Finally, just after 430 am he's born.
I am stitched up, because it turns out that my 4lb13oz baby tore me....does that sound right to you??
Then they check him out, check his blood yaddda yadda.....I held him for a few minutes before they took him back and the entire room cleared out, including my DH. I am still attached to the IV and the stirrups and I need to pee and I am all alone and shaking uncontrollably.
The thing in my back was gone and I was beginning to feel my legs again so I got up with great difficulty and had to jump off the dang bed it was so high off the ground and make my way into the washroom alone. When I got out there was a nurse there and she started scolding me for not waiting!
Unreal!
I am then brought to my room and am happy to see a nice view from the window. Things are looking up! I was able to get some sleep but woke in a panic when I heard a baby cry in the cloth cubicle next to me. My mild panic turns into a wave to terror and tears ad still no one I know is to be found near me...including my baby. DH come to see me as I am trying to eat a hospital breakfast of crap tea and God knows what else! And he is able to tell me that the baby has been brought to NICU.
If you thought the tears and waves of panic before were bad, look out!
When I was finally calmed down, DH brought me to see him, and I was promptly scolded again for not coming sooner! How was I to know? No one told me! Remember me, anyone?
He was so tiny I was afraid of him. But I held him and fed him formula from the most tiny bottle ever. But by the end of the day I was finally able to bring him back to my room and keep him. Then it came time for lights out and then he screamed and couldn't be soothed. I wanted to feed him but the nurse came in and said "Don't feed him again....you need to feed him every four hours, he's already fed he's fine." Then she took him out of my room and left me alone again "to get sleep" I am not sure about you but being under 5lbs with a stomach that can only handle about 2-3 ounces a feeding, waiting 4 hours before the next one is too damn long. But I am a first time mom and know nothing, right?
I couldn't breastfeed the poor darling, even though I tried so hard that the lactation consultant told me to give up. He wouldn't latch on. How can you blame him? His mouth opened as large as a quarter and my nipple and area was the diameter of a pop can....proportions are wrong here. So I pumped the meager amount that was willing to drop and that lasted two weeks before giving up completely.
But while the lactation consultant, whom had never had a child of her own and therefore could not understand why I was crying out in pain, was spending her afternoon trying to convince my baby how to latch on, the view outside my window had changed considerably. I was now staring into the face and large torso of a burly man with a hammer. I was on the 8th floor. Not a comfortable predicament to say the least.
Needless to say that I was itching to get out of there.
September 18th
I was finally getting into the swing of things. I was changing diapers, feeding him with a bottle (which the hospital gave me both of liberally) and even bathed him, even though the nurse did not want to show me the correct way to do this. When a knock at the door provided me with my first unsolicited visitor.
Over the next two hours I had the welcome wagon lady drop in, a life insurance lady drop in, the photobed woman drop in and countless nurses and students. The photobed lady came in with her camera and infant bad step-up and we thought it would be a great picture to have, until she started poking him in the face with a bottle nipple on her finger to make him open his eyes. She had told me not to feed him but she was on hour late, so he fell asleep and scolded me for not listening to her instructions. Sigh! Who's the child in this room?? Eventually I got a picture taken with his eyes closed and am still grateful as the eyes open pictures look like they have been possessed by the devil. But if it weren't for my DH she would have been wearing her photobed around her neck for poking him.
By the next morning we were packed up and waiting to go home.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
My Good News
It is not a surprise anymore that I am having another baby. It is also not a surprise to those of you whom have read my blog posts in the past that I want to have a girl. Well, we'll just have to wait and see what the ultrasound will say at 18weeks.
And at 6 weeks, the wait will drive me crazy!!
But, I have so many things to keep me busy until then. For example, I no longer have anything that is useful for anyone under the age of 5. That means there are no clothes being hoarded, blankets, hats, carriers, bottles or nipples(which I pray to all the Gods that I will not need this time), soothers, strollers, car seats, cribs and mattress, infant tub and slider, NOTHING!!
I am a little worried but not overly so, because when you have friends with kids of all ages there is bound to be something you can buy, borrow or be given to use.
So, the point of this post is not to beg for stuff, I've already done that, thanks a million.
But I wanted to catalogue(?) the progress that I am going to be going through. For no other reason than my own if no one cares to read about it....but I am sure there will be a few who may be interested.
To begin, I am going to spend Monday Oct. 3rd (tomorrow) looking for a midwife. That is a decision that I have not come to lightly, having heard about it from many friends in the homeschooling community about the benefits of this over traditional hospital care. I believe that this will be step 1, then step 2 is to cancel the appointment I made for the 18th of October with my doctor for a prenatal checkup. I feel really bad about doing it because we really like her. It is rare to find a family doctor that really cares for you and your family, but she won't be delivering my baby, and she will still be our family doctor at the end of the day so, I hope she won't be offended.
So wish me luck in finding a midwife! I hear it is not easy to do as they are booked up quickly!
And at 6 weeks, the wait will drive me crazy!!
But, I have so many things to keep me busy until then. For example, I no longer have anything that is useful for anyone under the age of 5. That means there are no clothes being hoarded, blankets, hats, carriers, bottles or nipples(which I pray to all the Gods that I will not need this time), soothers, strollers, car seats, cribs and mattress, infant tub and slider, NOTHING!!
I am a little worried but not overly so, because when you have friends with kids of all ages there is bound to be something you can buy, borrow or be given to use.
So, the point of this post is not to beg for stuff, I've already done that, thanks a million.
But I wanted to catalogue(?) the progress that I am going to be going through. For no other reason than my own if no one cares to read about it....but I am sure there will be a few who may be interested.
To begin, I am going to spend Monday Oct. 3rd (tomorrow) looking for a midwife. That is a decision that I have not come to lightly, having heard about it from many friends in the homeschooling community about the benefits of this over traditional hospital care. I believe that this will be step 1, then step 2 is to cancel the appointment I made for the 18th of October with my doctor for a prenatal checkup. I feel really bad about doing it because we really like her. It is rare to find a family doctor that really cares for you and your family, but she won't be delivering my baby, and she will still be our family doctor at the end of the day so, I hope she won't be offended.
So wish me luck in finding a midwife! I hear it is not easy to do as they are booked up quickly!
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