Re:Birth and Revolution

The week I got pregnant

Five months pregnant

We found out I was pregnant on Sept 11, a week after our engagement. We'd unknowingly conceived in August. I knew I was late but I chalked it up to the move into the new apartment.  Other than the fact that I got really big, really quickly, the pregnancy was progressing normally until my 32 week.  I started having pre term contractions and was put on bed rest after being monitored in the hospital for several days. At 34 weeks I was diagnosed with pre-eclampsia.  I went into labor at 36 weeks.

One of my many ultrasounds. I had fibroids so we got a lot of pics.

During my pregnancy I gained over 100 lbs.  Most of it towards the end, thanks to pre eclampsia.

We look so young and clueless

Someone took the pretty out of pre-eclampsia

I had a very traumatic labor, birth, and post partum experience.  It started when I lost control of my normally progressing labor when the doctors decided to "actively manage" the situation.  As I was laboring on my birthing ball, feeling this amazing connection with my body a resident came in and said that they "needed" to augment my labor with artificial rupture and Pitocin.

An early scan

I thought perhaps they'd seen something on the Fetal Heart Monitor.  After all I'd only been in labor for less than 6 hours and I was dilated at 5 cm the last time they checked me.  

As they were hooking up the drip and getting ready to break my waters with the hook I asked, "What's going on with the baby?"

"He's fine.  We like to actively manage labor at this point as a matter of routine Don't worry we won't be dialing up the Pitocin very high." 

"Can I move around with the IV?" 

"No. You need to stay in bed.  We're going to put internal monitors on the baby because he keeps falling of the external monitor." 

They dialed the Pitocin up all the way.

And within a half an hour I was dilated at 10 and began pushing.  For hours. Camel back contractions. On my back. No meds until I screamed for an epidural after four hours. It didn't work.

I repeatedly asked if I could change positions.  I knew my baby was big and we needed some gravity to help us along.  I was not allowed out of bed. But they did let me pull on a bed sheet tied to a bar.  It was straight out of a Civil War romance.

This is what a woman really looks like after labor

On serious narcotics

Gabriel Judah

At the end: utter exhaustion, a sense of defeat, and a Csection. I didn't meet my son til I was in recovery. All I heard was a little cry and that he was 9# 13 oz.

Then we had the wonderful time in the Mother Baby Unit.  I will spare you all the horrific details but here is a sampling:

First time in the NICU

He was being nursed, fed pumped milk, and formula

• The lactation consultant yelled at me for having a pacifier.  "It's against hospital policy!" Which was strange because it came in the basinette drawer with all the undershirts and diapers. 

• Same lactation consultant told me to stop complaining when I said that breastfeeding hurt.  

• A nurse told me to "get your priorities in line and take care of your baby" when I told her that I needed to get some sleep.  I had been awake for two days, nursing, pumping, and bottle feeding my baby who'd had jaundice and was in the NICU

• When I cried after hearing that our son might have a heart problem  and was being rushed back to the NICU a nurse told me, "Take that shit somewhere else. I don't want to hear it."

• When my husband told her she was out of line considering the circumstances and said he would report this to her supervisor, she called security with some BS tale of how he was "threatening the nurses."

• As I sat their with my breasts exposed pumping milk for my son in the NICU, three security guards burst into my room and threatened my husband with arrest.  They also said, "We'll make sure you never see your son again. You can't treat our nurses that way."  I had to diffuse the situation while being half naked in front of strange men. 

Waiting to hold Gabe in NICU.

After my post partum pelvic exam the doctor handed me a letter.  She said I was being dismissed from the practice for "emotional problems."  I was told that people like me shouldn't have children.  It was my fault for having PPD. Also people just didn't really like me.  And I was too demanding.  How dare I think I deserved a continuity resident when everyone else had rotating health providers.

Finally at home.

I sat there flabbergasted, thinking

"But you knew about my history of depression and anxiety from the beginning .  My psychiatrist and therapist both told you what kind of supports I needed.  Yet why was my medication often late while I was in the hospital?  Why did you get the dosages wrong?  Why was I criticized for wanting some sleep after the birth"

 And

Am I really to blame because you decided to assign me a continuity resident?  I was more than happy to leave the practice months ago.  Why did you practically beg me to stay?

Earlier on in my pre-natal care I'd had an ultrasound to measure the fibroid that was very close to my placenta.  When I asked the rotating resident what the measurement was, she said,

"How am I supposed to know? I'm busy. I don't have time to read charts."

 When I asked to speak to her attending she refused to get her.  So I got up from the exam table and started to walk towards the door. She pushed me out of the way, ran outside, and slammed the door right in my pregnant belly.  And held it closed.

When I finally got free I told them that I wanted my chart and I was leaving the practice.  The attending came over and apologized for what happened.  Then she told me that they really wanted me to stay there. That she was going to assign me to a continuity resident because she thought it would be best with my history.

 This is what I am thinking. But I am sitting in a chair getting rejected by a woman who just had her hands in my vagina.  Crying with snot down my face.

"We really hope you don't have more children."

Some people think that if you end up with a healthy baby in the end, it doesn't matter what happened during the birth.  That you should be grateful.  That you shouldn't complain.

I don't agree. These lines from Ani Difranco's song, "Not a Pretty Girl" keep coming up over and over when I think about my birth story:

i am not an angry girl
but it seems like i've got everyone fooled
every time i say something they find hard to hear
they chalk it up to my anger
and never to their own fear
and imagine you're a girl
just trying to finally come clean
knowing full well they'd prefer you
were dirty and smiling

Halloween Baby Wearing Style

I've been trying to process and talk about my traumatic birth experience for two years.  Some people might say, "Get over it already" but  it was an extremely important and profound event in my life. There is no time table for this sort of thing.  It's been on my mind more lately as we are TTC baby number two.  How do I prevent this sort of thing from happening again?  Can I prevent this sort of thing from happening again?

But also this:  Education, Advocacy, Information.  Can my tale be transformed into a passion for some kind of birth/postpartum work?  I don't know what this means yet. Doula? Childbirth Educator?  Blog about birth issues?  Creating a mental health wellness packet for pregnant women?


I am reading. I am exploring. I am thinking. I am choosing to see this as a catalyst.  Coming clean can bring about revolutions. Even if I"m not such a pretty girl anymore.

Dear Ignorant Asshole OB: I am a damned good mama.