Christian UC: Unassisted Childbirth

The Hospital Birth of Alexis

My first pregnancy started out with all-day sickness that lasted most of the pregnancy. I ate as much as I could with a diet that wasn't exactly filled with lots of raw organic fruits and veggies, but certainly better than I ever had. Okay, so there wasn't any raw anything. But I did start drinking juice and switched to Caffeine-Free Pepsi and started having mostly home-cooked meals instead of fast food.

I chose a very reputable, female OB at a hospital known to be the great standard by which all others in the area were measured.

My days were filled with testing, more testing, and lots of fear in between. According to the dozen ultrasounds I had, the baby was small. How small? I couldn't know. Was the cord not functioning properly and we'd have to get her out of there so she could start growing better, or do we need to try and encourage her to stay in there longer by me limiting strenuous activity, etc? Or was it because of my all-day sickness I had through most of the pregnancy, my still-not-great diet, starting out underweight, and the hostile relationship I was in? My scare-givers refused to give me any answers. An induction was scheduled for 7 days after my due date, at my request.

Six days after my due date labor started out painless, and remained so until the ride to the hospital where I was forced to lie down while contractions were stimulated with pitocin. I was given a sedative that was supposed to help me sleep but I was still woken up with each contraction. What was the point??? Stupid pills.

In the morning they broke my water and upped my pitocin. I was trapped in bed with an external fetal monitor. Even then I knew I didn't want an internal one. Not that they ever tried. They gave me stadol for the pain while upping my pitocin more. I've heard of stadol not working for some, it was great for me. The nurses were not happy that they had to explain any options to me. All I knew was that I wanted to avoid morphine if I could do it. They were not eager to share much of anything else, either.

My OB who I'd only met a couple times at the office (the rest of the times I was meeting the midwives so I could "know" whoever was on call when I happened to "deliver") came on duty. More pit, more pit, and at one point in time I remember asking if I was going to have to have a C-Section because my body didn't seem to be taking over on it's own. I'd finally dilated enough that I was allowed an essay block (1/2 an epidural). The shot stung, but had taken effect within minutes. Sofar the best I felt was when the nurse was holding me still so I didn't get paralyzed while receiving the shot in my back. It felt nice to be touched and held by more than the sterile bed. I fell asleep and rested well.

I woke up several hours later with a very different feeling. I certainly had no connection with the baby, and still didn't know anything about birth, but there was no question that she was on her way out!! I yell at Al to go and get a nurse. He goes to the door, it's 3:00 in the afternoon. "None are available". "Go get a nurse NOW!!!" She comes in and I tell her it's time for the baby to come. She leaves to get the OB who appears 10 minutes later.

A couple of pushes and 10 minutes after that Ally is born. They tell me to stop pushing after her head comes out and suction her mouth and nose because it's standard practice. Meanwhile I'm in pain and repeatedly telling her "OW. That hurts! You're hurting me, doc!" She finally informs me that she isn't doing anything but I'm still pushing. Evidently my uterus couldn't stop and me fighting it is what made it hurt so much. Finally I'm allowed to push again and the rest of her body is birthed. It's 3:20 on a sunny Sunday afternoon on March 2nd.

Ally looks blue/grey, I don't know to think anything of it. Maybe it's because she's bi-racial. Thought dismissed. In spite of my "birth plan" stating that I wanted her put on my belly and to nurse right away, neither luxury was afforded to me. They whisked her away to wipe her off and get her weighed and measured. I figured I had exaggerated the "right away" thing in my mind and maybe it wasn't really a literal term but meant as soon as possible. Of course later I found out I had not been wrong, and was indeed ROBBED of my baby. She first saw me through the antibiotic salve put in her eyes that ended up not working anyway. They were supposed to wait on that, too. At least they stuck to not giving me an episiotomy. At least I think they didn't. Though I supposedly tore. I guess we'll never know.

The first night I was afraid of my crying baby disturbing everyone else in the maternity ward. The next morning she was taken from me for the all-important pediatric exam. No, the doctor couldn't come to the room to do it, and my daughter was not returned to me for quite a while.

The only friendly encounter I had after that was a nurse who noted my baby looked like her niece (nephew?) that had just been born. She and her brother were from the West Indies, while the sister-in-law was white. I mentioned that it was probably because Al was also from the West Indies and found out she knew my in-laws.

The rest of the time I was lonely with only my friend and my in-laws visiting once each. Even my husband wasn't allowed to stay overnight- not that he'd have wanted to anyway. And who could blame him?

On Tuesday we were to be released, someone got put into my room with me, and I found out that my daughter had a hip-click and would likely need some kind of therapy or a brace or cast of some sort once she became mobile until it could heal. I called Al on the phone and lost it. After having been through so much in my life, I didn't know why God was doing this to me. I tried to have faith, I really did! But then there was always something like this to kick me in the butt. My new roommate prayed with me and Ally never needed anything of the sort.

I came home unhappy with the experience, but figured it was just me. I figured it was probably my fault for aggravating the nurses by not learning the ropes and attending lamaze and being able to just answer their questions like that and felt stupid for accusing the good doctor of hurting me. I had post-partum depression.

Almost 6 years later it's still a struggle as I try and create a bond between us.

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