1989

My mother agreed to be my birth partner for this pregnancy and commented that not much had changed in the OB/Gyn business since she had given birth to me and my brother! The doctors never talked to me or asked what kind of birth experience i desired. I was treated like a vehicle-a container- for the baby i was carrying. I was to “be a good little patient” and just keep quiet, take my pain relief medication, lay flat on my back with an IV, a fetal monitor, a catheter, and a full pubic shave. My mother commented that I was lucky since back in her day they also administered an enema to the laboring mother! All of these are done so that the doctor doesn't have to acknowledge that it is a real human being that is birthing this baby...not a vessel, not a Tupperware baby-holding robot...a real human with real bodily functions, and pain, and emotions. The nurses rolled their eyes at any of my questions and simply replied “Let us do our job, ok?”

Finally, at 5:30 pm, exactly 12 hours after my water had broken, and 5 1/2 cms dilated, all the while laying flat on my back in a cold room with people who were, quite frankly, very rude, they thrust some papers under my nose and told me to sign the consent for my c-section. I was stunned and hurt and frightened! Was my baby in danger? Surgery? What was wrong?? I was informed that I had “failed to progress” and that 12 hours was the limit on how long they would allow a mother to labor after her membranes were ruptured. Not to mention that it was time for a “shift change” at 7pm and my doctor was ready to go home to HIS family, not sit around and wait for my family to pop into creation. I signed, because frankly, i was tired, scared, and thought that “they knew best.”

Thirty minutes later, i was holding the most gorgeous 10 lb 15 oz pound boy in my arms. “Well, no wonder you couldn't progress! He was too big!” was the first thing out of the doctors mouth. I was confused. Why would my body grow a baby that it wasn't capable of birthing? Of course later i learned that with enough time, correct positioning, relaxation and visualization, almost all babies, no matter their size can be birthed vaginally. The fact is that i had a lazy doctor who didn't care about me, or about womens health. He cared about insurance checks, co-pays, and lawsuits. Now, everyone was right, the most important thing was that i had a “healthy baby.” But what about my health? Back in 1989, they didn't give you the cute little bikini incision that they do now. That rude, impersonal doctor sliced me from navel to pubic bone and stitched it up so sloppily that 18 years later the scar is still raised, red and ragged. Not to mention the pain i endured after the surgery. Or the fact that the nurses and the staff did not support my choice to breastfeed. They even accused me of child abuse by saying that “formula was invented because it is superior to breast milk. Science has made something better for you baby –it's called formula.”

For months (even years) after that experience, I always felt so ashamed and sad when i thought of my sons birth and first few days of life. The nurses just took him and did whatever they wanted for the five days i was recovering from surgery. I cried—and they accused me of being “spoiled.” My baby needed me and they felt is was important to “teach him” not to be spoiled. Thank goodness it only lasted five days. But i questioned my abilities and my choices constantly. Why did everyone protest so loudly to the choices that i felt were right and natural? Why was wanting to be close to my baby so wrong? Why did everyone just assume my body was incapable of doing what nature intended? Was i flawed? Was my body broken in some way? well, now it certainly was, i had this huge angry scar, a son who wouldn't latch on properly because of nipple confusion from hospital bottles, guilt that i had been unable to stand up to the doctors and nurses. I was angry and very disappointed in myself and unsure and critical of my abilities as a parent. The cascade of interventions robbed me of an experience that i could look back on with pride and joy. Instead it was humiliating, shameful, painful, and de-humanized.

This experience is the legacy that our grandmothers passed down to our mothers...childbirth is awful, painful and should be avoided with the use of drugs to knock you out and numb you up. I was determined not to ever repeat this expereince--andthe best way i knew how was to never become pregnant ever again.