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All through my pregnancy, I perceived childbirth as the most blissful experience ever. I was told it changes life in a magical way. During my entire pregnancy span, I couldn’t stop thinking how it would feel to hold my baby for the first time. How overwhelming will the moment be when my little bundle of magic will look at me for the first time.
Hormones do that to you. They get you emotional at a drop of a hat. My family, especially my husband, was the biggest support through these emotional outbursts. I was pampered, and all my demands were met no matter how unreasonable.
My entire pregnancy was a cakewalk until that fateful day when I got into labor. I remember that day so vividly. Whenever I think of it, I feel a chill down my spine. Well, it could also be the side effect of epidural!
Hours before my baby was to enter the world I was having dinner with my husband. We went for a short walk after dinner and ended up having a conversation about the baby. My due-date was ten days away. He was as thrilled (and nervous) as I was. He promised me it would all be just fine and we called it a night.
I started feeling a shooting pain in my abdomen, and I ignored it for a while till it became unbearable. I thought of waking up my husband but decided otherwise. What left me in a state of panic was the gushing fluid that refused to stop when I went to pee. It was then that I realized my water bag had broken and this was nothing but clear amniotic fluid mixed with blood and mucus.
Yes, I did freak out. I know I shouldn’t have, but I did. My equally panicked husband took me to the hospital immediately.
Now began the real ordeal. I was prepared for labor, and the only thing that came to my rescue were the Lamaze methods I learned during pregnancy. The moment I started regulating my breath the contractions were bearable. But not for long!
By 8 am I had dilated about three centimeters and was taken into the labor room. It had been four hours since we arrived at the hospital and there was no sign of the doctor. Not that I was left unattended. I was poked with a needle after needle to draw blood for tests and the enema experience added to my misery.
I wanted someone to talk to me, to tell me it will be okay but I guess that was too much to ask for. The pain grew to a point where it was intolerable, and I was praying with all my heart for a normal delivery.
Then came the most awaited doctor who didn’t even bother to look at me in the eye. I was poked with another needle which was told to be Pitocin IV drip. I wanted the doctor to consult my husband before administering anything that could be an option. But they all had turned deaf to my words.
I was told the baby has not yet descended to the birthing canal and I will have to wait. I screamed my gut out, but nothing seemed to affect anyone. In that painful state, I wondered ‘Is it like this for every mother?’ What happened to all the ‘it will be a smooth sail’ jargon offered in the consultation room?
What made it even worse was that my husband was told to leave. I pleaded to see him but was told it’s a hospital policy to not allow visitors in the OT. Visitors? Really? He is the father of my child for God’s sake!
I had not eaten anything in hours, not even a sip of water was allowed. My body started giving up and with the heavy dose of Pitocin my wish to have a non-invasive delivery went out of the window. The pain was excruciating and I requested an epidural. I had already dilated 8cm and yet the baby did not descend.
My disinterested doctor asked me to push but the effect of epidural was so high I had lost control over my lower body. I couldn’t push and I kept asking them for a way to resolve the issue. Yes, even in that state!
What struck me like a horror was this easily 100kg anesthetist who literally sat on my belly to give fundal pressure. He pushed the baby out without bothering about my screams. In all this chaos, I could hear my baby cry and the pain took a backseat for a while. I requested the doctor for skin-to-skin contact and she reluctantly obliged – for 30 seconds – before taking my baby girl away to clean her up. I broke down at this point.
The doctor told me she would apply stitch now. ‘Why stitch?’ I retorted. It turns out she conducted episiotomy (a cut made at the vaginal opening) to pull the baby out. We had strictly voiced our reluctance to episiotomy in our prenatal doctor visits.
When I questioned the doctor I got an answer that it is a standard procedure followed in India. I gave in and passed out. The 10cm deep cut resulted in blood loss and my hemoglobin levels dropped from 12 to 6. My condition had worsened. I was put on a couple of bottles of hemoglobin but to no avail.
Then a bottle of pure RBC blood was put in me. The next four days I stared blankly at the hospital ceiling fan while my hand was hooked to the IV. My newborn was away from me and I was in such distress I couldn’t stop crying.
I wanted to get out of that place. The constant poking had damaged my nerves and I couldn’t lift or move my hands. The pain didn’t leave me for weeks. I suffered from one problem after the other – fissure, excruciating pain in the coccyx and perineum, thrombophlebitis, and an emotional breakdown. I am still recovering from that nightmare.
My daughter is five months old now and her smile sets everything right. I often tell myself that it was all worth the pain because she had to happen to me after the ordeal.
But no! I didn’t deserve this. I deserved better medical attention. I deserved more kindness. I deserved a better birthing experience. I have nursed my baby right from the day she was born because I chose to have it that way. But the throbbing pain down there didn’t let me sit straight for almost two months. The horror of this delivery experience will not leave me for the rest of my life.
I wrote this experience to let mothers-to-be know that exercising your rights is important. I don’t want any other woman to suffer the way I did. And I wish to tell all the doctors delivering babies: You must be doing this everyday, but for us, it is a life-changing experience. Please be a little more understanding and a lot more kind. You owe us this much.
