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My second hospital birth was in February 1973 in a rural hospital in Eastern Oregon. My second child, a daughter, was born in 1973 when I was 20 years old.
Up to this point, the extent of my childbirth education was from my mother. She told me that I was not to scream during labor. She said that she would "whinney" like a horse when it got really intense, but, she did not scream and neither did my grandmother. I was not to do this as well. That was it for labor preparation.
The extent of my birth experience was with my, then almost 2 year old son, Ricky's birth. This had been a very traumatic birth experience with me and I was more that a bit apprehensive about going through it again. But I was determined not to have an only child and my daughter, Rio, was the only baby I had planned (all the others, my sons, were just "unplanned happenings".
I was full term with Rio. I had gone to the doctor's office for my scheduled prenatal the day she was born, which also happened to be her due date. He checked my dilation and said that I was dilated to 4 cm and ready to go anytime. I was told that if I felt like having her today, I could check myself into the hospital at any time. I left the doctor's office and finished doing some last minute shopping. My labor had not started and I felt good. I decided it was a good day to have my baby, so I went up to the labor ward of the hospital and checked in. Since I had pre-registered with this baby, I did not need to fill out all of the papers in admitting. I called my husband at work and told him that I was at the hospital and the doctor would be starting my labor by breaking my bag of water. (I was very happy I did not have to go through the "ride from hell to the hospital" that I had previously experienced with Ricky.)
The nurses on the labor ward thought I was a bit nuts, since I was not in labor, but finally agreed to put me in a bed for the doctor. The doctor arrived about noon time and broke my water. My labor started within minutes. I, again, was washed down with disinfectant, shaved, enema, and prepped. I was given a shot of demerol in my back and left alone. I did not have any further interruptions by the medical staff until I called for a nurse about 2 1/2 hours later because I felt the pushing sensations I had felt with my previous labor. I still had to argue with the nurse to check me and to her utter surprise, I was ready for delivery.
My husband showed up at this time, just long enough to let me know he was there, before he was chased out of the room by the nurses.
The doctor, again, had to be located.
I was immediately rushed to the delivery room, again strapped down and without my eyeglasses. This time they taped my wedding band onto my hand (as if I was going to fling it across the room... hospitals have strange procedures, to say the least!). I was placed in those horribly uncomfortable stirrups, flat on my back.
I was into full pushing now. I had no choice since the urge was so strong (this is normal for me).
The nurses were frantically running around. I was hoping someone would catch the baby because I knew she was ready to be born and no one was down at the foot of the delivery table.
The doctor arrived, unprepared, ungowned, just in time to catch. No episiotomy was done, but I did tear along the old scar. I was sutured and this time allowed to see my daughter's face. I still was unable to touch her, but I did get to see her. She was yelling at the top of her lungs and healthy. The entire labor from start to finish was 3 hours.
She was rushed into the nursery and I was taken to recovery, where I was famished. I was so hungry that I could have eaten an entire horse, at that point. I was unable to have anything until after I was moved out of recovery.
After a few hours, I was moved to a room. My husband brought me something to eat. It was, again 12 hours, before I saw and was able to hold my daughter. The first thing I did was undress her. I was scolded by the nurses for doing this. I wanted to breastfeed her, but they were against this and trying very hard to discourage me. I was given pills to dry up my milk. I had to give her sugar water and formula in a bottle.
After three days, my milk came in full blast. We were released from the hospital and sent home, less sore than with the last labor and very engorged. I came home to a houseful of people, which promptly left within a half of hour after getting home. I continued to struggle with breastfeeding my daughter. And again, as with my son, she was now used to the bottle. After everyone left the house, I was left alone with a brand new baby and a two year old to deal with. I had postpartum depression for several weeks with my daughter, mostly because the lack of home support along with the uncertainty of caring for a newborn and a two year old. I managed to get my daughter breastfeed for the first few months before giving in to the bottle.
This was the birth experience of my second born. I had two more babies at this hospital (it was the nearest one to us (it was a very rural region) before I said enough of hospitals and doctors. I had my last two babies born at home. These hospital births were the reason I chose to follow the midwifery path... to help other women prevent these kind of things from happening.
Articles Index: My Story Birth Stories
MoonDragon's Articles: My Story - Ricky's Birth (Hospital Birth With Forceps)
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