Having my first child was an experience that I both looked forward to and dreaded. It also turned out to be the first in a series of events that would lead me down the path to becoming a birth doula. I knew very little about childbirth and I had always been someone who insisted I wanted any and all drugs to get through childbirth. I had a birth plan, I did some research, and I had a general idea of what I wanted for my birth. Up until 39 weeks, I was pretty happy with my choice in doctors. To be honest, it never occurred to me to interview doctors and see what else was available. I went with the OB-GYN who I had seen sporadically for years. I was given a due date of May 1st, which lined up with what I figured, though this was to change several times. My husband worked offshore at the time and was home for three weeks and gone for three weeks. This made me nervous, but I was determined that he would be there for the birth of our child and I wouldn’t accept any other ideas. I was scared and nervous about being in the hospital and giving birth, but I was so excited to meet our baby.
At 39 weeks, I went for my regular checkup and it went as most appointments had up to this point. I noticed the exam was painful, but I didn’t think much of it at the time and the doctor didn’t seem to be concerned. After he completed my exam and I was dressed, the doctor told me we needed to start talking about induction. With the limited research I had done at this point, I was shocked. I knew that we weren’t even at my due date, yet, and it was too early. My driving force was my desire to not have a c-section. I have never broken a bone and the thought of a c-section was terrifying. I threw everything I could think of at the doctor. I bombarded him with questions about procedures and tests about which I had read. I asked for a biophysical profile, the doctor agreed. I refused to schedule an induction, even for after my due date. Finally, I asked the doctor if he planned to try stripping my membranes. The doctor replied, “Oh, I already did that during your exam today.” I felt betrayed by this, then I felt silly for feeling betrayed. This seemed like such a small thing, but it upset me that it was done without my knowledge or consent. I didn’t even know if I was allowed to be upset. I scheduled a biophysical profile for the next week and left the office feeling violated.
The next two weeks I walked and kept busy, trying to get labor started naturally, to no avail. I had the biophysical profile done and made another appointment. I didn’t see the doctor this time, at all. The following Friday, I saw the doctor for another exam and the results of the biophysical profile. Once again my membranes were stripped, without my consent. Alice was measuring 8+ pounds and I was told my fluid was low. The doctor insisted we schedule an induction for the following Tuesday. I allowed the induction to be scheduled, intending to not show up.
I started having contractions that evening and I told my husband it was time to come home. He would get off the rig the next morning and be home by Saturday afternoon. I called the doctor and they told me to wait until my contractions were 3-5 minutes apart before going to the hospital. On Saturday evening, my husband and I went to town and got dinner and ran some errands. I was still having regular contractions, but they were too far apart and my water hadn’t broken. That night, things intensified. I slept fitfully, for the second night. Around 2 am, my contractions were 5 minutes apart and I was exhausted. I woke my husband to go to the hospital. He was nervous and rushed us to the hospital.
At the hospital, I was in triage briefly and then wheeled up to the maternity ward. I was asked to give a urine sample and change into a hospital gown so they could start my iv of pitocin. I immediately tried to decline the pitocin. I had been told how much pain I would be in if I allowed them to use this drug. The nurse told me that I had to take pitocin. If I didn’t, they were going to send me home because I had at least 20 to 30 more hours of labor. I felt beat down. I hadn’t slept well since my contractions started on Friday and I was just ready to have my baby. I agreed to pitocin and changed to get in the hospital bed. Within 15 minutes of having the iv hooked up, I was in agony. My water broke and the nurses came in to clean me up saying, “That’s good, the doctor won’t have to break it for you.” I held out about 30 minutes, but the pain was unbearable and I finally begged for an epidural. There were several moms ahead of me, so I still didn’t see the anesthesiologist for over an hour.
While the epidural was administered, the anesthesiologist lectured me on several different things. I was in no position to chat and had to just listen to his rude comments while trying to hold still. Once he was finished, the nurse helped me to lie back so they could administer a catheter. My husband was allowed back in the room and all the nurses left. I laid on the bed, idly flipping through the channels on the television, feeling wholly disconnected. Finally, about noon or a little after, a nurse came in to check me and told me it was time to push. I asked about the doctor and they said he would be there when I had been pushing for a while. I pushed for over an hour while my baby’s heart rate dropped and I almost got sick at the height of every push. I don’t doubt at all that if I had signed the consent forms I was asked to sign when I checked in, I would have been pushed into have a c-section.
About 2:40, the doctor came into the room. He checked me, instructed me to push, tried to suction the baby, and finally gave me an episiotomy, something I was not aware of until later. It all felt very rushed all of the sudden. I don’t recall actually pushing as my baby was born, there was little to do with the doctor pulling her out. My husband cut the umbilical cord and Alice was weighed and handed to me while the doctor told me he was going to stitch me up. I still wasn’t aware of the episiotomy at this point.
Alice Jane was born at 3:04 pm, weighing 7 lbs 10.7 oz and she was healthy as could be. She took to breastfeeding right away and was almost back to birth weight before we even left the hospital. I did not walk away from the experience quite as healthy. In addition to the episiotomy, that I found out about the next day and from my husband, I had broken my tailbone because the nurses and doctor didn’t notice that I was positioned on the hard plastic of the hospital bed while I pushed. I couldn’t feel a thing until the epidural wore off. I passed out at one point after giving birth because the nurses rushed to get me up and into an overnight room so they could get the delivery room ready for the next birth. I did not see my doctor again until my postpartum visit to his office, despite the fact that his office was across the street from the hospital. After two days in the hospital, the nurses told me I was being discharged and that was it. I went home with my baby and a ‘breastfeeding’ kit that contained a bottle and a can of formula.
I left this experience thinking this was normal. I was under the impression that this is how things were done and I had a healthy baby, so it couldn’t have been that big of a deal. It wasn’t until a little over two years later when we started to plan our next pregnancy that I found a doula and learned the true nature of birth. What I went through was a fairly typical birth, but it doesn’t have to be. It isn’t the norm in most places. As women and mothers, we should be taking back our births. We must acknowledge that birth trauma is real and valid and things don’t have to be this way. It is possible to have the birth you want, in most cases, and when we realize this, we can celebrate birth as the beautiful event it is.
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