My Traumatic Hospital Birth Story

(Read part one of my daughter’s birth story here)

“I’m glad that’s over” was the first thing I said once our baby girl came earthside. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

My due date was right around the full moon and I just knew this baby was going to be born on the full moon. She was so active, constantly flipping and kicking. I could tell already she had so much personality and was a little firecracker!

Here She Comes

The full moon was on a Thursday and I felt the first labor pains at about 2 pm that day. I told my husband I was pretty sure labor had started but not to worry yet. However, the contractions quickly picked up in intensity and after only 30 minutes they were 4-5 minutes apart.

I called my mom to pick up the boys (and this time she answered the phone) and finished packing the hospital bag.

I’d spent the last 9 months mentally and physically preparing for this. I’d eaten the dates, drank the raspberry leaf tea, listened to hypnobirthing soundtracks, read all the pregnancy books, religiously visited a chiropractor, prayed over my baby, and did the pregnancy yoga.

My midwife and I had discussed that I was doing hypnobirthing and that I didn’t want constant fetal monitoring. She reassured me it was my birth, I had the right to say no to anything, and they would only use the monitor occasionally. I was ok with getting a baseline on the fetal monitor and didn’t think it would be a big deal.

All Ready

During labor I go inside myself, concentrating on my breath, and sensing how to work with my body. For the most part, I don’t want anyone touching me or talking to me as it breaks my concentration. I’d communicated this with the midwife on multiple occasions, but I had a nagging feeling she hadn’t gotten the memo.

I had natural remedies and healthy snacks ready to go for labor and afterward. I thought I’d done everything possible for the best birth experience.

The contractions were coming hard and fast so my husband and I headed to the hospital with the bags and the birthing ball in the trunk.

Arriving

The short drive there was a little stressful and by the time I’d settled into the birthing room my labor had slowed. My midwife didn’t know if she should come in yet, so she asked the nurse there to check how much my cervix was dilated. I told myself I was ok with getting a baseline and agreed to let her check.

I was only at 2 cm and they told me I should probably go home and come back later. My other births were fast once labor started and this one felt even faster so I wanted to wait and see. After asking for a urine sample and checking baby’s heart rate I was left alone to sway through the contractions.

It took some time but I was able to relax somewhat and labor picked up again. The nurse wanted to do several more cervical checks and fetal monitoring during this time to relay my progress to the still absent midwife. I honestly didn’t mind her being gone though since I preferred laboring on my own. I’d made it to 7 cm and was officially in transition.

Starting to Go Downhill

The nurse again hooked me up to the fetal monitor and all of the disruptions were really throwing me off. The hospital staff decided this was the perfect time for me to sign all of the consent forms and paperwork they hadn’t done yet. I was in so much pain my husband had to hold me up during the contractions.

I had no idea what I was signing and just did a squiggle instead of a signature as I could barely hold the pen. Later, when I went through my hospital records I discovered they’d done a full drug test on me without my knowledge or consent.

Left alone once again I settled into a hands and knees position supported by the birthing ball. It had been about 5 hours since we arrived when my water broke in a dramatic gush. My husband got the midwife from the hallway and she immediately started giving me a pep talk, calling me Mama Bear and Baby. I’m pretty sure I gave her the stink eye during a contraction.

She then proceeded to tell me she wanted me to move into a different position for the next 4 contractions. I’m never the type of person who likes being told what to do, especially during labor. I decided that maybe she was right and so I stretched my leg out as instructed.

I was in the middle of a contraction, trying to breathe and concentrate when she grabbed my leg and yanked it forward, hard. I felt my tendon stretch too far and the pain shot up my leg and into my hips. I quickly pulled my leg back and decided that was enough of that. So much for hands off.

Struggling to Be Heard

I’d repeatedly told my midwife at my appointments (and the OB nurse) that I was trying to do hypnobirthing. I told them I wanted to be able to concentrate and avoid using any negative language like pain and contractions. It was important that I could listen to my body in a positive light. However, that didn’t happen and I was frequently asked things like how much pain I was in.

Rolling back and forth on the birthing ball on hands and knees I tried to open up with the contractions. The midwife and the nurse however were gossiping about ex-boyfriends and other things right behind me. My husband gently suggested I wanted quiet and I could hear the irritation in my midwife’s voice in her response.

They both became quiet as I tried to work through the contractions. However, I couldn’t relax as the nurse kept pushing my leg and jostling me around to put the fetal monitor on my stomach. I kept asking her to stop but she didn’t. At one point I just kept saying “get off!” The midwife said that’s not an option and I wondered what happened to “you can say no to anything.”

 I told them it was throwing me off as I was trying to listen to my body and let it do its job. My midwife replied “My job is to get this baby out as fast as possible.”

Which is a very different birth philosophy than what I’d heard during my appointments with her.  

 I didn’t feel supported by my birth team and the tension in the room made me physically tighten up too. I could feel my pelvis tightening, not relaxing with each contraction and the pain kept getting worse. What should have been a 30 minute transition and delivery stretched out for hours.

Just Breathe

Trying to catch my breath and rest for a minute, I decided to lay on my side in the bed for a few contractions. I thought that I’d mentally regroup and try a different delivery position like squatting. I was in so much pain at this point I could barely communicate. The midwife though immediately sat by my legs and told me she wanted me to hold my leg and pull it back.

I don’t even know how it happened but the situation quickly turned. Before I knew it more staff had come into the room and they were pinning me down on the bed, holding my legs back. My body had been ready to deliver this baby for hours but I had been fighting it.

Work With What You’ve Got

I realized that at this point my best option was to try and breathe this baby out. My midwife kept yelling at me to push. Coached pushing was definitely not in my birth plan (that she’d also told me not to bother to write up). My legs were hurting from being forced back, the lights were bright in my face, and the room was anything but peaceful.

She kept saying “Just 10 seconds of terrible and then it will be over.” I knew how beautiful and peaceful birth could be because I’d experienced it myself. With my first birth, I’d had a completely pain-free delivery as I gently breathed and worked with my body. Her words, while meant to be encouraging, further pushed me into fear and pain that I knew didn’t have to be there. I was being pressured and yelled at to hurry up and my body wasn’t able to go at its own pace.

After one last painful push, she was out and it was over. Or so I thought.

Baby Girl’s Arrival

They laid my baby girl on my chest and all I wanted to do was take her in. She was calm and peaceful lying there. The nurses however started roughly toweling her off and she started crying loudly. I told them to stop and they said they needed to stimulate her.

If a baby is breathing fine on their own, they don’t need “stimulated.” I don’t think the nurses were used to seeing a natural birth or a baby without epidural drugs in their system and didn’t know what normal really is. They had the best intentions, but it caused even more stress for both baby and me.

The midwife announced she was cutting the cord and I quickly told her I wanted to wait until it had stopped pulsing. It had only been a few minutes. She said it already had and that “I wouldn’t do that to you.” I honestly didn’t know what she’d do to me at that point.

Another nurse came into the room and told me I needed to get the baby to nurse. They were afraid she was so big she was diabetic and threatened to give her a bottle of sugar water if I didn’t get her to latch fast enough. After having a 10 pound baby last time though, I knew she wasn’t anywhere near the danger zone.

However, the baby was still upset and crying from the nurses earlier and I had trouble getting her to latch. The nurse kept calling her “fatty” and they were taking bets on her weight.

She was 8 pounds.

Delivered From the Delivery Room

After some hemorrhaging and a few shots of pitocin, we finally made it out of the delivery room and into the other hospital room down the hall. It was around 1 am at this point and I was starving. My wonderful husband had gotten me Applebees earlier but I hadn’t had a chance to eat it yet. Once the baby was swaddled and I was settled into the bed I devoured my food.

I was too exhausted to think and fell asleep.

Thankfully the postpartum nurses were wonderful and they let me sleep through the night. At my first hospital birth, they kept waking me up to check vitals every hour or so and I was completely exhausted by the time I got home.

The next day (Friday) we slept in and started adjusting to having a new baby. I was ready to go home but was told we couldn’t leave until the next morning. That night the emotions started to hit hard as the shock wore off. I couldn’t stop sobbing and shaking when no one was looking. More than anything I just wanted to go home.

There’s No Place Like Home

Saturday morning came and they’d done the required tests. I kept telling myself I’d get to go home anytime now and I only had to hold it together a little while longer. Except it was a holiday weekend and apparently doctors don’t like working on holiday weekends.

The other midwife at the practice came in late morning to do my discharge. I was relieved I didn’t have to see the midwife from my birth again so soon. But we were still waiting for the pediatrician to discharge the baby. The nurse kept calling her asking for an ETA and she would just say she’d be in eventually.

At this point, I couldn’t take it any longer and told the nurse I was taking my baby and walking out. I even signed the paperwork to leave AMA. However, we were then told that our insurance would probably deny our stay and make us pay for it if we did that. So I (very reluctantly) stayed and waited.

Finally, right before noon, the doctor came in to look the baby over and discharge her. We’d arrived at the hospital Thursday afternoon and weren’t able to leave until Saturday afternoon. I was so relieved to finally go home.

Processing Grief

 In the weeks after the birth, I noticed something wasn’t right. I cried every night and felt depressed all the time. Every time I laid on my back I’d have a panic attack. Driving down the highway and passing the hospital sign sent me into a panic attack. Sunset was the worst for some reason and I’d feel waves of depression at twilight.

Physically I was struggling too. I had constant pelvic pain and things didn’t feel right down there. I realized that I wasn’t ok and I needed help.

It took me a while to label what I went through. Sure it was a rough birth, but I kept telling myself it wasn’t that bad. I had to come to terms with the fact that I’d been through a major trauma and I felt assaulted. I still can’t entirely put into words my feelings about what happened.

I started pelvic floor therapy 2 months after the birth. After the first session, I cried the entire hour drive back home. My body has started to release some of the trauma, but I still have a ways to go. If I accidentally get into a position that reminds my brain of what happened I start crying uncontrollably. I can’t watch a pregnant woman give birth on TV or in a movie anymore without panicking. Sunset is still hard.

Not the End

I wish I could go back and change things. Never let my husband get the midwife after my water broke. Never get on the bed. Never even show up to the hospital. I know how empowering and beautiful bringing another life into the world can be and I feel like that was ripped away from me.

As much as I want to sometimes I can’t change the past. I’d like to tell you that I’m fine now, and if you saw me in person you might think that because I hide it well.

However, I do know that healing will come. It’s not over yet.