Finding out I was pregnant with L was one of the best days of my life. You see I had cancer when I was 14. I went through numerous operations, scans, and 18 rounds of chemotherapy . No one could tell me what affects all that may have on my fertility. All I was told was that it would be best to have my babies in my 20’s and that instead of 1 year of trying I would get 6 months before starting fertility work ups. Luckily I got pregnant easily and my first few months of pregnancy where uncomplicated. At 32 weeks however I was so swollen that my prosthetic leg no long fit. By 38 weeks I was in severe pain.
This lead to me telling my Dr that I was done. I expected him to tell me to hang in there, or that I didn’t have much longer to go, to give me SOME kind of support considering that I was healthy and baby was healthy. What I got instead was a referral to the on-call OB to see if I was a good candidate for induction. Even though I had written in my birth plan that I wanted a med free birth it was pushed aside with my lack of sleep, pain and the end of pregnancy impatience most women go through. The OB went over the risks of induction with me and promptly discounted them. I was told I was an ideal candidate, that a cesarean wasn’t anything I should be concerned about. He then proceed to do a unconsented stretch and sweep.
3 days later I got the call from the hospital to come in for my induction at 38w5d pregnant. I was so excited to meet my baby and had no reservations about the induction. After all, I had been reassured by my care provider. When I got to the hospital I was hooked up to artificial oxytocin to get contractions started. I had monitors all over, an IV and was on my back in bed……..nothing happened. The nurses kept increasing the medication, nothing happened. They called my Dr who told them to increase it more, nothing happened. My Dr came in and tried to artificially rupture my membranes and was unsuccessful. A few hours later he came back and tried again, he lead me to believe it had worked this time. It wasn’t until I was pregnant with my second child that I would learn he had never broken my water.
We waited and we waited and we waited. Nothing happened, my body wasn’t ready, my baby wasn’t ready and after over 24 hours later I still wasn’t in labour. At this point my Dr came in and told me I could wait a couple more hours or I could consent to a cesarean (as I was lead to believe I had ruptured membranes for over 24 hours.) I felt defeated. I felt like I failed. I consented to the caesarean thinking it was the only option. I was prepped and rolled into the cold OR, got my spinal and was told that I was having a boy (I didn’t know the sex of the baby) The most magical part of my babies birth was taken from me by someone who didn’t read my file and hadn’t realized I didn’t want to know.
Soon I was ready. I felt a lot of pressure and tugging and then heard the best sound I had ever heard, L crying. It felt like it took hours for them to clean him up and put him in my arms. All I wanted to do was hold and kiss him, which I got for only a few moments. Too soon he was sent downstairs to the maternity ward. I spent the next 2 hours feeling empty, knowing I had just given birth, knowing I had a baby boy and knowing he was on a different floor, so far away from me. The lack of compassion I got from the medical staff was appalling . I was mocked and talked down to several times. It was far from the entry into motherhood that I had envisioned.
It took me years to come to terms with his birth. That I consented to so much that I shouldn’t have. Feelings of guilt at myself and anger at my care providers for not providing me with all of the information. These feelings impacted breastfeeding, my mental health and it took me a lot time to connect with my baby . I ended up suffering with PPD. When I tried reaching out everyone around me told me just to be grateful that my baby and I were healthy. But I wasn’t healthy.
What I have learned is that mental health needs to be a part of the conversation when it comes to childbirth.