Other categories: Postpartum, Belly, Belly, Breasts or Body Art, First Pregnancy, PPD
Having been at the hospital a few times the week that I gave birth, when we went in around 11:30 pm concerned about bleeding they took their time.
Apparently, I was dilating, causing blood.
They sent me home a centimetre dilated. They had offered me drugs for the pain, but I was convinced that I could breathe through everything, set on a drug-free, natural birth. We were back at 2 am because I could NOT handle the pain anymore. I could barely stand up to put my shoes on, let alone hop up in the truck without vocalizing the contractions. And again, because I had been there so /many/ times, the nurses took their sweet time, while I was groaning loudly in the little room..
A half hour later, someone finally came in to check how far I was and they started scrambling. I was 6 cm dilated. I have an extreme phobia to needles and they came in with no warning and told me they needed to do blood work.
I lost it.
I could not breathe anymore.
I was scared.
I tensed up and everything started to hurt more.
And THEN they came in with the IV and the gas.. I didn’t get a choice in anything. Drug-free went out the window.. They shoved the gas mask on my face to make me breathe slower. The room got brighter, my voice sounded lower… I was stoned, straight out. Because of the “need” for all of these needles, my dad had to come in. Before, I figured everything would be weird with anyone but my boyfriend in the room. My father and his wife were in the delivery room for everything. Before they made it to the hospital, the nurses were politely getting me higher and higher, making me breathe with the gas mask through every contraction and decided to have me walk to the delivery room. I don’t know how that seemed like a good idea when I couldn’t walk from the wheel chair we used to get their to the bed.. But alas, we made it into the delivery room and I crawled onto the bed.. They asked me if I wanted an epidural and I thought, “Screw it, drug free is out the window anyways, may as well take everything they’ve got.” So we waited for the anaesthesiologist and when he arrived EVERYONE had their hands on me. He hit a nerve in my back and I jolted, instantly there was a migraine, and he had to move everything and do it again. My step mom was holding the cloth over my eyes, my boyfriend was trying to hold my hand on the right side, my dad was playing with my hair and on the left side the nurse was death gripping my arm and my leg. They placed the mask on my face with the elastic o no one had to hold it. Getting claustrophobic, I moved the mask to my forehead, and that was then holding my cloth up. The nurse to my left kept telling me to push three times during contractions and I couldn’t get her to shut up. I just nodded and said “mhm.” My dad tried telling me that I could do it if I tried. “You get knocked up and then you can tell me what to do,” was my response. Somewhere in the midst of everything, I’d told my boyfriend that if he ever tried touching me again he was dead. I had also said that “these contractions are dicks, you think you’re good and then it’s there.” Twenty minutes after the anaesthesiologist had given me the first needle and the wonderful migraine that I am still paying for, he came back for the second part of the epidural. He stood there for a minute and turned around. It was too late.. I had already been pushing and the baby was almost out. During contractions, I was throwing up in my mouth. Choking on vomit, it’s hard to keep pushing. They told me just to let it go, because it had gone on for about 45 minutes. I opened my mouth and tried not to choke it down. The first contraction that came with that I projectile vomited right into my doctor’s mouth. My father was trying not to laugh and said that vomit made him sick, and turned around for a snicker. I saw my doctor rush to the sink and heave a couple of times and spit before she came charging back and got right in there to “help” me. She placed her fingers inside of my vagina and tried to help stretch my perineum and labia to prevent tears. I shrieked louder every time she touched me. I was already very sensitive, the epidural hadn’t kicked in at ALL and there was no numbing going on. At all. I looked down and saw the baby’s head coming out of me. That’s not an image I can wipe away from my retinas. “Ew” was all I could say… Everyone aside from my boyfriend and parents, was saying “Do it for the baby, you are that much closer to being a mom.” All I could do is say, “Fuck.” I never wanted to be a mom. Ever. With the final pushes they put the baby on top of me. I looked down, said, “Gross.” And looked away. My boyfriend didn’t want to cut the cord. He considered it for a moment but after he said no my dad was already getting in there to do it, so he backed off. The doctor kept putting her hand in the way and my dad is blind in one eye. The cutting of the cord was successful, no hands were sliced. So, now they came to give me stitches, and I lost feeling in my right leg, thanks to the half-ass epidural. They kept telling me it’s not that bad, I won’t feel it, I didn’t tear that badly. So, obviously, I asked if we could skip the stitches.
I was told no, I won’t feel a thing, they will freeze it. I felt the freezing needle go into my vagina.. The freezing didn’t seem to take effect and I felt every stitch go through, and the thread being pulled through my skin.
Anyway, I had a baby girl, that I was instantly ignored for, for three hours in the hospital.. My boyfriend was wanting a girl and we didn’t find out the gender, but I still would have liked to have his hand to hold or something.. Two hours later, because of my bum leg, we got to move to the mother/baby ward. My boyfriend spent the night in the chair beside the bed.. I could not sleep due to the spinal headache that I had acquired from the epidural that I didn’t need. But any time that I had even dosed off, I had to get up to feed or change the baby. And he was passed right out, not waking up for anything. He left for work in the morning and right on cue, someone came in trying to tell me that a doctor had ordered bloodwork that morning from me because I’m pale. I have an iron deficiency.. I’m naturally very pale.. I was exhausted and upset and hungry.. I wasn’t going to have colour. Luckily, MY doctor just happened to be in the area and told them to leave it be and let me take my vitamins. The nurses then started giving me T3’s, knowing that I was breastfeeding, and assuming that I was still in high school. They actually had asked me about high school. The baby was sleeping a lot and jaundiced and not feeding well because she would not wake up. I didn’t know that it was the T3’s until I went to the pharmacy to get something to help with the spinal headache as I refused to get a blood patch. No more needles for me, thanks… A few more days consistently taking T3’s and the baby may have just not woken up..
Well, now I am 12 days postpartum and feeling really alone, inadequate and guilty.
I feel guilty because I can’t seem to appreciate how lucky I KNOW that I am. I still haven’t accepted the fact that I was pregnant, and now I’m a parent.. I have a hard time calling my boyfriend a father and I can’t see myself as a mother..
Reasons why I know I’m lucky:
-no cravings during pregnancy
-no swelling during pregnancy
-no morning sickness
-25 lb weight gain during pregnancy
-lost 15 lbs instantly after pregnancy
-5 hour labour, with 2 labial stitches, perineum still fully intact
-very content baby, sleeps well, not fussy
-huge support system (6 siblings, 8 nieces and nephews, parents, grandparents, friends, and my boyfriend)
-my tattoos survived, and have few stretchmarks between my legs, on my breasts and on my sides
-I am breastfeeding with no problems
-I ate what I wanted when I wanted to and still had a healthy baby
-I went clubbing at 7 months pregnant for a stagette and had more fun than the bride
Reasons why I feel guilty:
-I know I’m ungrateful of all of the above
-my boyfriend does nothing but irritate me and he is just trying to help
-getting jealous of the baby
-I feel like I’m just going through the motions of motherhood, I have no attachment to the baby
-smiling and pretending everything is okay because I got enough lectures about being pregnant when I never wanted to be
-I dealt with prenatal depression before the baby and ensured my boyfriend everything would be okay when I wasn’t pregnant anymore, it’s not..
-I’ve already had horrible thoughts of things I could do to the baby to not be a parent
-I’ve thought about leaving in the middle of the night
-I feel deformed and disgusting and helpless but I don’t feel like I can say anything
-I can’t find anything that doesn’t outline how beautiful birth is, how much love I should feel and how I should cherish these moments and I don’t feel that way at all.. I hated being pregnant, I cried for a week when I found out and never came to terms with it
-I know I don’t look “bad” but it’s a big change from what I’m used to, and not as good as I would like..
-I went up 5 jean sizes and can’t do anything about that
Ori is not my real name. This is an anonymous post.. I just need to get this out SOMEwhere where I’m not slapping my loved ones in the face.. And hopefully, someone else might feel this way, read this and not feel so alone..