Trauma by perspective

Jordan’s birth story

I was 19 and finding myself.  20 years later, that is still evolving.  Instinctively, I knew I wanted a natural birth and to breastfeed.  It just felt right.  My belief in God’s design coupled with a fear of epidurals and interventions overshadowed by a strong desire to prove myself were the forces driving my plans and goals.  I have always been complicated.

I chose a practice that coupled midwifery care with obstetrics, took the hospital childbirth series and read What to Expect as I balanced bowls of soup on my growing bump.  My little precocious love was also very perceptive.  EDD Nov 8.  The very same day that my mother had been told to expect me 20 years before.  Like clockwork, Nov 6 brought a ripening cervix and the loss of my plug.  24 hours later came the loose bowels the book and class had told me were coming.  My little baby was on its way following the textbook timeline like clockwork.  The early morning hours of Nov 8 held sporadic light cramping. I slept.  At precisely 9:18 (the minute of my birth) came the first real contraction.  7 minutes later, came another.  This continued for 7 hours. Ctx were 5-7 minutes apart. They grew a little in intensity, but not much.  By 4:00, I chose to pause during contractions.  4:00-6:00 was spent sitting on my couch, anxiously waiting for my birth team to be ready to go.  At 6:00, we made the 10 minute drive to the hospital and were checked in by 6:10.  In my room, I was greeted by the friendly face of Traci- the nurse who had taught the childbirth class series.  My other team members were a nervous partner who was existing outside of my labor bubble and my mother who was streaming tears and not able to be the strength and inspiration I needed in those moments. Traci’s presence was a big sigh of relief.  She quickly let me know that the midwife on call had been at the hospital longer than 12 hours and was in a terrible mood.  It was my option to choose midwifery care (my plan) or go with the on call OB (what Traci recommended as the lesser of the evils that night).  I trusted her insight and asked for the OB to take charge of my care.  Traci checked my dilation- 7, congratulated me on being so calm and checked in with the OB.  By 6:25 I was complete.  Pushing at 6:30. In that moment, the OB appeared mumbling about needing to leave to get his son to a dance. After a quick introduction, he proceeded to administer a local (with no forewarning or consent) in preparation for an episiotomy.  Through her tears, my mother said, “He is holding a tool.  I think he is about to cut you.”  I realized that Traci had been trying to tell me as much through her eyes during that last contraction.  In hindsight, her lips were probably tied because of the politics of the position she was in at that moment.  I had only been at the hospital 20 minutes and pushed once when he was ready to destroy my perineum so that his son could dance?!?  Oh no!  I told him to put the scissors down and reminded him that he did not have permission to cut me.  He grumbled something like “Have it your way.  You’re going to tear all the way through”. I was PISSED that I had made it this far- a first time mom in her teens holding my own in my natural birth *like a champ* and he robbed me of feeling these last moments.  Being treated with that level of disrespect kicked my determination into high gear.  He proceeded to insert his hands into my vagina during my contractions (the only really painful part of this experience) while I pushed and delivered my baby at 6:40 pm.  30 minutes after arriving. 20  minutes after reaching complete dilation.  My first daughter was born.

Scorecard

Erica and her perineum- 1

Divine Nurse Traci - *Hero’s award*

OB- 0

Baby Jordan- thriving in spite of the drama surrounding her <<<<-------Won’t be the last time!!!

Ok.  She came out looking more like this.