Wow. What a powerful, powerful testimony. Yes, we do matter, and how insensitive of us to say ‘it doesn’t matter, at least you’ve got a healthy baby’. No wonder we have doctors believing this too, if we believe it ourselves.
…that the birth matters…and so do I.
by C Lo on September 2, 2011
There is a mantra that we have culturally adopted regarding birth.
“Nothing else matters as long as there is a healthy baby”
And, I don’t know why I’m not used to it after 12 years, but it still shakes me up every time I see it.
Because…I matter. My feelings matter. My health matters. I have to live with the choices. I carried that child for the better part of a year and I have to raise that child…I matter.
While I had all my children naturally, my last birth was very devestating for me. I had two children previously….one in a birth center, one in a tub in my tiny little 2nd floor bedroom. That second birth was really the best birth I could have asked for. I had high expectations for number three to be even better.
But you know what they say about the best laid plans. I ended up in the hospital (while my birth tub was filling and subsequently flooding my bedroom). No, there were no problems and within an hour of arriving, I delivered my 11lb baby boy in about two pushes. And he was healthy and perfect.
Sounds good right? All that matters is a healthy baby, right?
While I stood laboring next the the triage table, I had nurses conversing around me as if I didn’t exist. I was repeatedly told “no” I couldn’t do things. I was instructed to lay on the table and do as I was told and when I didn’t, everyone stood around and stared at me as if I was crazy. No one helped me. At all.
I laid on the bed because my legs were about to give out and I quickly realized that the baby was NOT coming out in that position. I begged for someone to help me turn over onto all fours and the doctor said “NO!” and the nurses all just looked at me and shrugged their shoulders. When the doctor left the room, I scrambled awkwardly off the table, landed on the floor, got on all fours and pushed with all my might. I pushed out of fear that this stranger who didn’t know anything about me would come in and somehow wrangle me back into that God awful position. I knew I had to get that baby out ASAP. I did. A couple of pushes and some 3rd degree tearing and my son was born. I then had stitches that no one told me much of anything about. And the doctor walked out without saying a word to me. My husband looked on from a corner as I spoke my first words to my son…”I’m sorry….I’m sorry“. Read the rest of this entry »