Janet

[The Morrigan]

I wrote this from when Conor was 11 weeks till he was about 7 months old. It probably explains for itself why I'm so passionate about birth reform but especially home birth.

I have finished a draft of my "birth" story. The best parts of it were my labour at home, which was planned as a home birth, and a rebirthing or welcoming I went through when Conor was 4 months old. I got to welcome him in a way that was completely obliterated by the hospital. So here it is if you've the stamina to read it!

I can’t start with labour because I think so much happens before a birth that is an integral part of it. Partly, this is a record for my son to have when he’s older. Perhaps he’ll have children of his own and then he and his partner may like to know details about my pregnancy and his birth. I also want to record my experiences for my midwife, Beth, and offer information to women who will read this on her web site. If you’re trying to decide where to give birth, I can give you the story of how I decided and why. I feel doubly qualified to assert the strengths of home birth this as I feel like I had a homebirth and a hospital birth in the one experience.

I have wanted a homebirth since I was very young. I bought and read a lot of Sheila Kitzinger’s work in my first feminist flush in my early 20s. I only knew one woman who planned a homebirth and I remember what a revelation it was to me as a child, that such things were possible. I felt then, and still do, that birth is an intimate event and not a pathological one, which women need to occur on their own terms. Our son was conceived at home, without bright lights, people we don’t know, without invasive technology. So I thought that was how he should be born. Once I was pregnant, I also found from research that statistically, women who give birth are much happier about their experience, and much safer – as are babies. I wanted a pregnancy with a known care giver, who would know me well by the time I was in labour. I wanted to know I would be able to put all my faith in my carers when the time came that I really needed them. And so it was!

We tried for two years to conceive our son. They were two very stressful years in some ways as I had two miscarriages and had to deal with my mother’s terminal cancer. Then in July 2002, we bought our house in Melbourne and moved down here to be near my work at La Trobe University. Mum died in September, which was sad by not unexpected after four difficult, complex and demanding years of her illness. I have polycystic ovarian syndrome which complicated our attempts at pregnancy significantly but after I completely devoted myself to nothing but conceiving for the whole of January 2003, we finally achieved a successful pregnancy in February 2003. So I feel like I was pregnant for a year, really, as Conor was born in November. With that wonderful intuition that nature gives us sometimes, I just knew that this pregnancy was different from the other two. I was hugely excited and a bit overwhelmed. We’d waited so long and it finally happened. Now what?

I was fine for the first few weeks apart from a major sneezing attack. Go figure. I began to feel nauseous about 8 weeks and it lasted until 16 weeks. Ugh. Morning sickness??? Who the hell called it that? I wasn’t particularly ill in the mornings, I was ill by lunchtime and then crook all bloody night. Not nauseous enough to vomit, sadly, although I did have one spectacular puking session after which I rang Beth to get some sympathy. That’s one of the benefits of having your own midwife!

We went to Beth for the first time, mostly to meet her and check out how we felt about her, when I was about 12 weeks. We heard Conor’s heart beat for the first time that day and I can still remember the thrill of it. Intellectually I knew there was someone in there but there was always a tiny part of my brain that couldn’t quite grasp it and thought maybe I was kidding myself. It rapidly became physically obvious that someone was on board as well! I was growing at a somewhat alarming rate at first and since twins run in Trevor’s family we thought we’d make sure we weren’t carrying on the tradition.

After a lot of research, we had decided not to have an ultrasound with my pregnancy. I felt like there was no doubt that I was pregnant, I was well under the so-called dangerous age for issues like Down Syndrome, and I didn’t want unnecessary interventions, particularly machine driven ones for which there is little evidence of need. I also felt a strong sense that I was invading my baby’s privacy. I thought it was a funny feeling to have but I went with it anyway. In the end, we decided to have it done to make sure how many babies we were expecting – I had a big tummy quite fast! I also had my blood tests done the same day and it was an excellent reminder of why I had chosen to avoid hospitals throughout my pregnancy and birth. Not that the staff were nasty, they were just patronising and not very helpful. When the nurse asked me ‘put a sample in this, sweetie’ I asked him what it was for. Standard hospital response from him: “Everyone does it!” That’s not a scientifically based reason so I persisted and got the information I wanted. It also seemed to me that the process was humiliating and part of the training women get in the obstetric system so as to be used to being treated poorly before they even get to birth. You are given a clear plastic specimen jar and sent across a public corridor to a (filthy) public toilet. There is no cover for the jar so your wee is on display for the world to see. While I was there, a Muslim woman was trying to explain to staff that she couldn’t see a male doctor and the staff were patronisingly telling her it’s all there was. And that the male doctors were ‘more qualified than the women and we can’t let people have a preference.’ That set me thinking!

We got through the ultrasound which was conducted by a pleasant enough woman who didn’t introduce herself – another par for the course hospital move. She also pressed so hard into my abdomen that it was really painful. I protested and she apologised saying that operators often do that because they think they can get a better result by pressing down more firmly. Aha. Well Conor behaved like he did for Beth. Any time she tried to listen to him he would swim off and make her chase him. He was the same for the ultrasound which made me feel that my instinct about not spying on him was correct. We had also discussed quite a lot whether or not we wanted to know what brand we were having. We were both somewhat ambivalent. In the end, we asked the technician to write it on a piece of paper so we could decide later what to do.

Once we got home, we had to look. It said ‘the fetus is male’. I was very surprised. I knew from when we were trying that the odds were on that we would have a girl. There are very scientific ways you can do this. It’s not about what you eat, or the phase of the moon – a taxi driver told me that one… If you have sex before ovulation, the male sperm sprint up to the cervix and then cark it for lack of an egg. Then you ovulate, and the endurance runner female sperm are there to fertilise your egg. Voila! We had sex on the actual day that I ovulated as well as before it so the sprinters had made it there. And predicting ovulation is also an exact science. With the correct information, training and help, you can pinpoint ovulation with cervical mucus. People who try to conceive this was have a nearly 70% chance of being successful unlike those who bonk indiscriminately, and have only about a 25% chance. We had learned all this!

Well I took a moment to absorb this new information. After my initial shock that it was a boy, there was a greater shock of ‘It has a sex at all!’ This made it a realler person again and was rather overwhelming for me. I needed to name him as soon as possible to help me with the bonding process. It was a strange sensation to know that I had a fella in my guts. I was also sad that all my feminist principles and knowledge and celebration around being a woman was not to be shared with my child. It was like a little grieving time for this. So we hopped on the internet – very modern, we are – and named him Conor. It was, oddly enough, the first name we saw, and also the one that resonated with us both. I felt like it vibrated in my uterus. It also means Hound Lover and as we have loads of pets, it seemed too perfect! I also wanted him to have a middle name and chose Cormac. Trev thinks middle names are a wank but his is George so he was perhaps somewhat coloured by that. I really like my middle name! We had already decided that he would have my surname too which rather shocks some people. People scare so easily! Basically it was important to me that he have my name and Trev didn’t care either way. So Conor Cormac Stokes Fraser it became! And no hyphen because we both thought that was wanky. What do two hyphens do when they have their own kids??? But I digress.

My pregnancy was as normal as they seem to be in books. I am a small woman and there’s no where for a tummy to go but way out in front. Beth kept telling me it was beautiful, and Trev kept saying “What a fine figure of a woman!” I loved it. It’s the only time in my life I’ve been able to wear body hugging clothes and feel acceptable. I wore a short skirt and high heels to a party about 24 weeks and it felt great!

Being with a midwife like Beth means you get lots and lots of info. Homebirthing is about making choices and taking responsibility for yourself. When we first started looking for a midwife we were aware that they are uninsured. A couple of things struck me about this. Firstly, hospitals are insured up to the wazoo but it’s not actually for the consumer’s benefit and it is no guarantee of safety. In some ways, the way in which obstetricians and hospitals work mean that you are in more danger not less as they interfere in the natural processes in birth so as to be seen to be doing something and hopefully thus avoiding possible litigation in future. Secondly, sometimes things go wrong in a birth. No amount of compensation can help you with the loss of a child. I figured that I needed to be at peace with these ideas. The lack of insurance never bothered me once. If a midwife goes into practice knowing that a decision she makes can result in her losing her house and livelihood, she’s pretty bloody dedicated to what she does. I bet there aren’t many obstetricians who would practice with that kind of devotion.

The responsibility is far greater, then, in a homebirth but so are the rewards. In the aftermath of my ultimately terrible experience, Beth once said to me that she was so sorry that she couldn’t do anything to make it different. I said, “Beth, when I booked you for a homebirth I was aware of the responsibility it entailed on my part. You were not responsible for that decision and you were not responsible for the decisions that we made after that.” A midwife bonds with you in a way that hospital doctors very rarely care to. It’s a funny relationship in some ways. You’re a client but more. But not quite a friend although you are treated warmly and affectionately. It is a relationship that you need to build and trust as you will need that woman more than you ever need anyone in your life. I’ve heard from other women that as soon as Beth walks in the door in their labour they feel better. It was like that for me too. I had my partner and a very close friend but the reassurance Beth gives in just her presence is so great. I invested my trust in her so if she had told me that leaping off the roof was called for, I’d have asked for a ladder. This was why the decision to go to hospital was made so quickly. Beth presented the information that I wasn’t dilated much more than 5cms and his head was in a position where he couldn’t come out past my internal bony parts. I asked her what she would do and she said if it was her, she would go for a caesar. I know that this was very upsetting for her, although she didn’t show it to me. I cried and cried as we gathered everything up to go to the car. And I’m crying as I type this. It was so terrible. I felt like a failure and a laughingstock. All the negativity that people come out with when you choose a homebirth was all there in my head. All the people who had frowned or pursed their lips. I felt like they had won and I was being punished for my pride in thinking I could birth at home. I felt so ashamed and such a failure.



I went into labour at 1.30am. I was just heading to bed and as I walked across the bedroom floor to our bathroom I felt a little pop and splish! I thought, “Oh, that was a waters popping thing!” I went to the loo, confirmed it and said to my soundly sleeping partner, “Looks like you’re not going to work tomorrow.” He was pretty pleased, on a few counts. We had been waiting a long time to meet this baby! Being sensible, and well drilled by my midwife, I said I was going to bed with a wheaty heaty and going to sleep. I got into bed, had some Rescue Remedy and wrapped the wheaty heaty across my lower tummy. Three contractions close together put paid to the notion of sleeping. I pretty much flew out of the bed – as much as any hugely pregnant woman flies out of a waterbed.

I went into the loungeroom and tried another possie, draped over the bean bag leaning on the wheaty heaty. Trev covered me over with a duvet and got his own duvet and we tried lying there. Early labour means very little in the way of endorphins flowing just yet so it was still more painful than I could sleep through. I was also feeling a little nervous, trying to feel out these new sensations, a little excited. I kept shifting around and trying to get comfy but gave up and got in the bath. About 3.30am I decided that things really were going to keep going and that my best friend, Yvette, needed to be called. She lives in Wagga so it was a bit of a trip for her. I lazed in the bath breathing slowly through the low down tightenings and jokingly saying to Trev, “Remind me again why natural birth is such a great idea?” I continued in this state for the next few hours. I felt very tired!

About 6am Trev called our midwives who needed to know that we would need them later in the day. Beth suggested I get in the birth pool if I felt like I wanted to – I did! I flopped into the filling pool and kept breathing through the tightenings and moaning a little now and then. I was fairly conscious at this point, not being in strong labour yet, but not able to ignore the contractions either. Trev took some video of me with the early morning sunlight on me in our lovely loungeroom with its view of trees and the backyard. About the only thing I really didn’t find pleasant at this time was being very tired. I really wanted to sleep but I didn’t know how to go about it. Time had no meaning already and I was aware that it was light but the time seemed to have gone very quickly.

At some point, Yvette arrived. Normally it takes about 5 hours to come from Wagga but her car had malfunctioned all the way causing her considerable stress. It coughed and died at the end of my street, so she ran down in neutral and parked out the front of our house. Instead of being able to recover and breathe deeply for a while, she felt driven to come to my side so she bustled through the door and straight over to the pool. I was so happy to see her! We settled down with her watching me and holding my hand and stroking me now and then.

Not too long after this (time has no meaning&#8230 Beth turned up to have a preliminary look at me. I asked for a VE and she said I was at about 3 cms. Apparently this is quite good for all that time in very early labour. Who knew these things could take so long? I told her how tired I was and she said bed and sleep were the only things for me. I had no desire to lie down, and very little confidence that I could sleep. Beth and Yvette tucked me up in the spare room bed. Trev went off for a kip too. Beth left and Yvette and I lay in the bed. I squeezed a comb to press pressure points on my hand to help with the contractions. I actually did sleep! And labour progressed pretty well. In between contractions, Yvette said I snored my head off. Yep, pregnancy is a glamorous and romantic business!

After about 2 hours, (yes, guessing again) the contractions became fiercer and moved into the tops of my legs. I would wake up from sleep and say “Leeeeeeeeggggggsss” in a really pathetic way and Yvette would massage my thighs. I ordered her about like a slave at this point, so labour really was kicking in nicely. “Too hard!” or “More!” I barked at her. She also talked me through trying to visualise each contraction as a mountain to climb up and then slide down the other side. I was trying to relax, let go and go back to sleep as soon as I possibly could as the contractions subsided. Trev woke up and came back in during this and could see how things had changed since he’d gone to bed. I was being fed through this time too, having bites of mango and sips of Gatorade. Just as well too since The Puking set in at this time.

At the height of almost every contractions, I hurled mightily and Goddess, it was good! The force of the contractions meant that I was projectile vomiting so Trev was holding the bucket at some distance from me. He had a 2 bucket system going so he could leave one with us and go rinse the used one, come back and swap them over. The relief of vomiting was marvellous and I could Beth saying in my head that she liked to hear a woman had been vomiting when she was in labour. It felt very freeing and purging as well.

I got back into the pool around 4pm when labour really took off. I was having very strong contractions about every 2 minutes for a long time. This continued for hours until I began to wake up out of the endorphin fog and feel like pushing. Beth checked me early in this and I was about 8 cms with a little lip. I pushed very hard once the urge hit me but it began to feel wrong. My second midwife, Carey, arrived because all the signs were that Conor arrival was imminent. After pushing and he wasn't coming down any further Beth suggested I get out of the pool and let gravity help me and we would try a few things to help him.


When I first got out of the pool I squatted in my kitchen holding the bench and Beth held my sit bones apart in case that was the problem. She held on while I pushed through another contraction. This not making a difference we walked slowly to Conor’s bedroom where the bed had been prepared with plastic sheeting in case my membranes ruptured and she examined me. I was so scared something was wrong by now. Carey stood at the head of the bed with me, holding my hand, and spoke softly to me telling me to look into her eyes and breathe slowly through any contractions. Beth examined me slowly and carefully with me telling her when I was relaxed enough for her to proceed. She said I was 5 cms and his head showed that he was in deep transverse arrest. I was devestated and cried and cried. Although I had lots of support around me, in that moment I was completely alone to make the decision of how to proceed. We went to the hospital.

I couldn’t get in the car and I was still crying and holding onto Carey. There were pillows for me and I decided to lie on my side. I lay on my left side so I could hold Yvette’s hand while we whizzed through the night. Trev said later he was pretty impressed with some of Beth’s cornering. When we got there, we went in through a side door where the staff looked at me with sympathy while they put the number tag on me. Beth held onto me all the time which I really needed. I was offered a wheelchair but it didn’t seem like a good idea so we went up in the lift with me walking.

It took me a distinct mental adjustment and decision to separate Conor from his birth. At first, sometimes when I looked at him or held him, I instinctively went back to the pain and fear and distress. It’s not that the gift of him made me forget. God knows! For the first fortnight I cried a lot. I still want to cry quite often. I couldn’t bear to see pictures of myself pregnant as I wanted to rush back and comfort the poor woman in the photos who was smiling in happy innocence and ignorance of her intended fate. I have lots of pre and post photos in an album with captions except for the ones of his birth and the hospital. I can hardly look at those. They make me feel sick with distress. I have framed some lovely photos of myself pregnant and will hang them in the house in the next few days. I have needed to revisit and reclaim my entire pregnancy as it was so shattered by the brutality of the hospital staff. That process is still continuing. When I was labouring at home I thought (in brief lucid moments) that this was a doddle and I could happily do it again and have another child. If I had thought about it in the hospital, and I can’t remember if I did, I would have been quite sure that another pregnancy was crazy. In the weeks after his birth I felt like I would rather be run over by earth moving equipment than face another labour. Trev said that during the birth as he watched me in such unrelenting pain with no one helping, that the idea of us having another child after this one had gone right out the door. He never wanted me to go through this kind of stuff again. I have mixed feelings now. On the one hand, I know that vbac after c-sec is safer than a repeat c-sec. I have no doubts that vbac is good, right and possible. What I don’t know, is am I strong enough to labour at home to the end? Was I really in strong labour? [I was actually!] Was I kidding myself and duping everyone? I know that to achieve another pregnancy I must be at peace with this one and mostly over the fear of a repeat performance. And my experience of c-sec is to feel that I haven’t given birth at all. At best, I have made the decisions that led to a healthy baby. But I did not push him out and scoop him up to my breast as I imagined doing so many times. I felt completely divorced from his birth in the end. I had no idea how long it took or what happened during most of it. The hospital has thus far refused to tell me what time the op began and ended.


The first hour or so in the hospital involved urine and blood tests, constant foetal and contraction monitoring with 2 belts fastened around me. Conor was stuck in a weird position so the only place his heartbeat could be found was mostly in the low right hand corner of my pelvis. The pressure of his head, my moving pelvis and the monitor was excruciating. It didn’t seem to work very well and had to be pushed into my body by someone to pick up his heart. His heartbeat was perfectly fine. I had been labouring a long time but he had been fine throughout. He’d had no drugs so he was not distressed due to adverse reactions. I sucked on the nitrous oxide to help dull some of the terrible pain. The midwife was patronising and keen to talk about her own pregnancy. She wanted my second midwife as her own midwife for her next birth – an irony not lost on those of us watching her substandard care.

The first ob that came in was quite pleasant. She introduced herself (this is noteworthy) and said she needed to give me a VE – note how staff in hospitals don’t ask permission, they announce. While she had her hand inside me, she also announced that she would give Conor a foetal scalp monitor. We all said “No!” so she didn’t. Why didn’t she seek to discuss this beforehand? Why would I be in a position to make a decision with a hand in my vagina? Not that she was asking for my permission. I am so thankful we stopped her from doing it. They are useless and traumatic for babies and cause foetal distress. She could not seem to understand that I had not gone into labour at 1.30am that day – ie 1 ½ hours before arriving at the hospital. We said over and over, that I had been in labour for 24 hours. This could have been avoided if Beth’s notes were treated with the respect due to them as the notes of another experienced, trained professional.

Then we were left alone except for intermittent visits from the midwife who strapped the monitor on me without my consent several times despite my partner asking why this was so. She kept saying, in a very patronising manner, I had to give them X number of minutes of uninterrupted heartbeat. Since I had been asking for an epidural and a caesarean since arrival and nothing was forthcoming, I gave in. I was concerned, and so were my support team, that the atmosphere was so difficult that I would not get the help I needed if I were perceived to be a noncompliant patient. I hate being called a patient, by the way. In my notes I am constantly called “the Pt” and it merely emphasises the impersonal treatment I received. It was like being in a factory on a line where things happened in a particular order regardless of the presenting evidence.

The contractions were still strong and painful for me although weaker than they would be in an effective labour – this should have been another clue that something was wrong not just that my labour needing restarting. My endorphins were shot to pieces by the fear, distress, bright lights and staff treatment. Yvette kept turning the lights down again after staff left as they insisted without any consultation on having overhead lights on for even menial tasks. And the door cracked more loudly than a door in a horror movie. Over and over and over and over and over as people marched in and out. My partner and I were both asking when the anaesthetist was going to arrive. He asked repeatedly as he was being given evasive, patronising responses which did not provide any information at all. At one point, a security guard arrived, apparently called by staff who were bothered by Trev’s assertive questioning.

I must say, that at no point were I or my companions rude, threatening or aggressive. I made an especial effort to be polite and engage with the staff in a helpful manner. This would, I hoped, facilitate better and more appropriate communication from them, as well as ease my path through the hospital. It did not. Despite other labouring women and their partners having their names on the door to their room, this was never done for us. As a result staff wandered in without really knowing who we were. I asked a number of staff who they were and why they were in the room since people did not introduce themselves or behave respectfully in the space of a labouring woman. Yvette tried repeatedly to ascertain information about how long it would be until I had an epidural. After she had tried asking the question several times in different ways, she gave up and asked about hospital protocols. Given that I had been in labour for 24 hours, how long would I have to wait for a caesarean? And if I had been labouring in the hospital, how long would they have waited before allowing me the operation? This information was also not given and she became offended by the constant rudeness, evasion and patronising so she stated that she was tired of it. The midwife Sue became cross and flounced away saying she didn’t have time for this as she had real work to do.



The main ob did not introduce herself. She scanned the room ignoring me and asking my support people if she could give me a VE. Beth suggested that I try to relax for it by leaning one leg outwards onto her lap. I let go and tried to give in to the procedure as I know it’s more painful when you’re tense. Once the ob touched me I felt like she had split me in half. I lifted off the bed in agony and cried “Get out!” to try and stop the pain she was causing. She ignored this completely. She wanted to perform ARM and vaguely appeared to be seeking my consent. I looked to Beth for guidance but she had been blocked from my view. I looked to Yvette to see what she could read from Beth and I had to accept. This was not consent. The ob reached for the hook and I felt a pop and tear and liquor flooding from me. It was clear which was yet another indication that Conor was not in distress. If only the same were true for me. I also sustained a labial graze which I discovered the next day. I can only imagine that this was part of the terrible pain the ob caused me. I had a couple of VEs from Beth over the previous hours and because she was slow, gentle and I trusted her, while it wasn’t pleasant, it didn’t cause me to scream. After the VE she made some attempt at a bedside chat involving patting me on my belly. This made me cringe. Not only had she caused me terrible pain, I had no idea who she was and she was patronising and rude. She said, “You can’t come in here demanding a caesarean with the first niggling pains of labour.” I was so shocked I could not reply and I needed all my capabilities to get through the pain and fear which had grown with her appearance. And obviously the staff still weren’t taking any notice of Beth’s notes on me. My impression, in retrospect, is that she did not believe I had been in strong labour despite this being carefully documented and despite us saying it was so. She implied that because my membranes had not ruptured (I’d only had a hindwater leak at this point) that I wasn’t really in labour. So if there was some kind of management plan, I suspect what she was thinking was that rupturing my membrane would put me into labour and then that was why she thought she should come back and check me four hours later. The fact that his head was stuck doesn’t seem to have rated on the radar. Maybe she also thought that because his head wasn’t applied to my cervix that the position of it was unimportant and would just naturally move, especially if there was no cushion of fluid in front of it. I don’t know how far I dilated, or if I did at all, after the membranes were ruptured but I do know that the pain was horrific for quite some time before the anaesthetist showed up the second time.

So although I was not asked and therefore did not consent to an augmentation of my labour, by rupturing my membranes this was achieved anyway. I was not offered appropriate pain relief to deal with an increase in pain at this point. This ob also insisted on asking my partner questions about my labour which he kept referring to Beth. Why ask him when there was a professional with me for my labour who had extensive notes? This could have saved the staff a great deal of work.

The ob left and then a while later the anaesthetist arrived. He was gentle and friendly. He began to talk to me about what was involved in epidurals and then a code green was called and he had to leave. There was, apparently, no other anaesthetist available. So I went back into the mist of pain that had increased dramatically with the unnecessary rupture of my membranes. My contractions had woken up again and were increasingly painful. I had piggyback contractions of 2 and 3 in a row with no break. All I could do was close my eyes, suck on the gas and survive. I was tethered like a goat for slaughter by the drip and the monitors. I was on my back and when I opened my eyes I saw Trev there holding my hand. I have little memory of what was going on or how much time passed from this point.

About 2 hours later, at 4.40am the anaesthetist showed up again. This time he got down to brass tacks asap. I was still having big contractions but I had to park my arse on the very edge of the ludicrous bed contraption and lean on Beth with all my weight. Poor Beth. He inserted the catheter into my spine and apparently I bled a lot. The hospital midwife went all faint and had to leave the room so I’m lucky I wasn’t depending on her for physical support! It felt like pressure and weird but not really painful. Mind you, if a car had run over me at that point it probably would have felt like a walk in the park compared with the contractions. I asked several times how long it would take to work. I was so desperate for pain relief after being in the hospital nearly 5 hours at this point without anything but gas and my pain steadily increasing. I simply could not accept the repeatedly offered pethidine because, not only is it frequently ineffective, it crosses the placenta. I had chosen home birth so as to avoid any chance of my baby sustaining injuries from the kind of common interventions in hospital, including drug overdose and I wasn’t going to give in and allow it to happen to him just because it was all the hospital was prepared to offer me. Why was there no other anaesthetist available?

The epidural took a little while to work and I was still in pain and using the gas for the first half hour or so. I had been left a little pump to use to ‘top up’ the dose as I needed it but it did nothing. The worst pain was in the area where the monitor had been forced into my pelvis. Not until I got into theatre did I get enough pain relief to take that away.

About 40 minutes after the epidural was given to me, the second ob arrived back in to tell me to be a good girl. She patted me on the belly – again – and said that I would now be monitored and she would come back in 4 hours and see how I was. She said that syntocin would be ordered to get my labour going again like the massive contractions hadn’t existed, and she didn’t offer to check to see if I had dilated anyway. This was not ok with me and I became assertive. She was still behaving like I was just a naughty panicked girl who wasn’t prepared to go through labour and this really offended me. I said to her that I did not want a caesarean for any reason other than my baby was stuck. I said that I had planned a home birth to avoid these kinds of procedures and now I found myself needing more help. I told her that her offer of syntocin would most likely put my baby into distress as he was stuck and would not come out vaginally. Then we would both be in greater distress, and he would have to be c-sec anyway but with us in a more exhausted state than I already was. I explained the notion of the cascade of interventions that would lead to c-sec anyway and said I still wanted it done before my baby became distressed. She was very unhappy with my assertions and said she would have to discuss it with her colleague. I said, “Why don’t you bring your colleague in here and I’ll discuss it with them too?” as I was tired of being talked about and manoeuvred around with no respect or control. She angrily left the room and then came back fairly soon after with a clipboard from which she angrily read a list of possible (and largely unproveable and inaccurate) complications – I would never birth vaginally again, I would have placenta previa, I would suffer uterine rupture etc. I was so relieved that I was going to get what I needed that I smiled graciously and allowed her to patronise me further. I signed the consent form, so did Trevor, she left the room and we never spoke again. I never saw her again at all since she did not speak to or acknowledge me in the theatre.

A few more things happened after this involving me being prepped for theatre. I was changed out of my nightie and into a hospital gown and moved onto a trolley. People I’d never seen or met came into the room and saw me naked. Trev and I signed more forms in which he promised that he wouldn’t misbehave in theatre. I had a few minutes alone with Trev and Yvette and she videoed me looking exhausted by relieved and cracking jokes about still having a honeymoon fresh vagina after childbirth. We were all so shellshocked by the trauma of the hours without pain relief and the attitude of the staff but pleased that something was going to happen. I was so flat that I did not think to ask for more exact information about the procedure, believing as I did, that it involved an abdominal incision, the removal of the baby and then being sewn up again. How naïve!

I was wheeled down to theatre and it was all rather hazy as I hadn’t slept for about 48 hours by this point and I was in shock from the pain of the last hours. I told the anaesthetist about the pain I was still having on my side and he topped it up so I felt absolutely nothing. It was a horrible unnatural feeling. I was spreadeagled on the table with one hand available for holding. Beth was next to me and I said I wanted to pat my belly goodbye before anything happened. There is little room for letting go of the pregnant self in a medicalised scene. She said that was fine. There was a curtain up over me but I could reach with my free left hand to pat it. Beth took a photo for me. Then a voice shouted from across the room, “Get your hand off that!” I did not, at first, realise that it was meant for me. Then the voice went on saying stuff about how they couldn’t have people just wandering around in the theatre. This must have meant Beth who then responded by introducing herself and trying to smooth the waters – as she had tried all night to do. The voice was not interested in calm or respectful communication and said, “Well my name’s _____, if you want it for the complaint form.” There was then a difficult time as Beth tried to get permission for me to have Conor in recovery. The answer was a flat no. Beth tried negotiating given the hospital policy permits it and she has had other clients who’ve enjoyed it. “I don’t care what happens during the day,” said the voice, “It won’t happen on my watch.” I was so out of it that I didn’t realise the significance of this at the time.

Beth explained to me about the noise of the suction device which would suck the liquor out in case it startled me. The staff never told me what was happening or communicated with me in any way. At some point I heard a little squawk and a tiny bundle was lifted out of the curtained area and taken to a brightly lit table where staff stood around. Conor had arrived. I felt a catch of excitement and relief that my job of protecting him from the hospital was done. He was checked and given a Vitamin K injection to which we had consented as he was having a c-sec. Had he been born at home he would not have had it. Trev was lurking near the little table trying to see Conor and Beth took some photos of my little boy. I called out repeatedly “Don’t wash him!” as I was scared they would clean all the good smells and liquids off him and I wouldn’t have the chance to meet him as he was. I also tried to ask if he had a caput (the staff had apparently discussed his caput outside my room in the labour ward) but a nurse by the table just kept smiling inanely at me without replying. Next thing, a little wrapped bundle appeared in front of me. Beth said, “Suck on his fingers.” Which I did, and thank God for it since they took him away. It didn’t occur to me, in my addled state, that he would now be gone and that was it. I was feeling a little nauseous and asked from some Maxalon which the anaesthetist gave me through the drip. I began to doze off as I didn’t have to guard my baby any more. I assume I was stitched up and given the suppositories to which I had not consented after this.

I woke up shortly after in recovery feeling warm, comfortable and disoriented. I was the only person in the room with the nurse and I was attached to all sorts of monitors and the like so I could see my own blood pressure and heart rate. I seemed to be fine to me. I asked straight away to be taken to my baby. It was a little before 7am. The nurse said that the wards were too busy to send someone to get me and I would have to wait. Time ticked by. When shift change occurred, I was asked if I had any pain. I said, “Yes I have some slight pain in a part of my pelvis where my baby was stuck. It was the last part to be affected by the epidural and I believe it’s wearing off there now. “No,” said one nurse to the other, “She hasn’t any pain.” I was a little startled by this. I then asked again to be taken to Conor and the nurse made a phone call. I said, “My baby hasn’t been fed and he was born over an hour ago.” She called again a little later and finally a midwife showed up to take me to the ward. As I was leaving the recovery nurse said, “See you next year.” I said, “You’ve got to be joking. Go through this again?!” She said, “Oh you’ll forget, they all do.” Then she said to the midwife, “Oh this one has all sorts of plans; she wants to feed her baby.” I was offended by being patronised yet again but I couldn’t be bothered saying anything. I had had enough of them all.

While I was in recovery, Conor had been put in a plastic box to be observed. Despite having Apgars of 9 at 5 minutes, he was deemed needing the care of a plastic box for 30 mins instead of skin on skin contact with his mother. The registrar’s report shows that he was perfectly healthy. Trev and Yvette went with him and he was never out of their sight. They were both bone weary as well. Trev had a cup of tea and changed out of theatre drag and then sped back to pick Conor up and give him skin contact. Yvette stayed with him talking to him the whole time and taking footage to show me as she knew how devastated I would be by this unnecessary separation. They left the nursery with him and went up to the ward to wait for me. Yvette asked several times when I was coming as the baby had not met his mother yet and time was passing. Staff were, again, rude and unhelpful. When they finally consented to tell her which room would be mine, they also added that she was not welcome in it until they had “settled” me. She ignored them utterly and went straight to the room and tried to put my baby bundle and belongings out in such a way that it might take the edge of the unfamiliarity and coldness of traditional hospital design. Finally I arrived.

Trev came in and he had Conor in his arms for me. I took him straight away and tried to drink him in. I have video of it and it shows a woman with chronic fluid retention who can hardly speak. I thought that I was just tired and that was why when I blinked I had to force my eyes open. Now I know that I was given morphine so I met my baby in a very drugged state. I remember very little about it as a consequence. I have an overriding memory of his tiny little moon-shaped round face and I joked about him being Bert Newton’s love child. Yvette says that he was comforted by being with me straight away and that he knew me. I remember him crying a very little and just knowing that he was releasing his fear and surprise at where he had suddenly landed after his lovely warm dark snug burrow – he is still scared by sucking, or slurping type noises. Trev went home a little while later to ring family and get some rest. Yvette took Conor and had a little rest so I could close my misbehaving eyes. I began to eat and drink as soon as it arrived. The midwife tried to tell me to eat lightly but I wasn’t having any of it. I was fine. I drank 3 litres of water and ate almost all the 2 meals provided. As soon as the epidural wore off I began working out how to get out of bed.

Yvette suggested that I go home that day and I was so exhausted and tired of fighting with the hospital that I said I didn’t care. I am so glad she fired me up and helped me do it! We told the afternoon midwife that I wanted to go and he began helping me mobilise, taking out the catheter, and telling me what I ought to achieve to help my plan. Much later that night, the doctor finally arrived who had to sign all the forms. He asked to examine Conor and I refused saying that he’d been monitored all day and was perfectly fine, as well as which he’d just had a feed and was asleep. He said I was leaving against advice and was fairly pleasant, especially compared with staff the night before. He told me I would need drugs to take for the pain so I asked him very clearly, “Will this pass into my breastmilk?” “No.” he said. What crap! Once I did my own research I saw that breastfeeding is a clear contraindication for the 2 drugs he’d prescribed. I assume that these are routinely given so babies are being exposed to major narcotic-type drugs every day in Australia unless their parents find out for themselves. I didn’t need them anyway as I didn’t find the scar particularly painful.

Eventually we got out of there and home to our own environment. The pool was still in the corner and the house in chaos which had developed during my labour, but it was to stay that way for quite some time. With a choice between recovering and being with a newborn baby, what household would choose housework???

As a postscript to all this, my milk was slow to come in and Conor was comp fed via a tube attached to my breast for 24 hours. And I developed a major ear infection which is apparently found in water. The infection was so extreme that it dislocated my jaw and I did have to take the drugs the hospital gave me. But since my milk was shy that this point Conor didn’t get any in his system. Yvette stayed a little over a week and was a huge and wonderful support that we couldn’t have coped without especially when I got so incredibly ill a few days after coming home. I was deeply distressed by the hospital’s treatment of us and cried quite a lot for the first 2 weeks. I developed Post Traumatic Stress Disorder involving flashbacks, distress, inability to look at pregnant or labouring women, I couldn’t even look at photos of myself pregnant and many other indications as well; a clear text book case, in fact. It also drifted into depression and suicidal thoughts for a couple of weeks.

But the story of afterwards in another story and too long to be told here. I love my son with a passion that sometimes surprises me and I am putting my life back together with professional help and support. My recovery was slowed by the number of people who would not believe that the experience was as bad as it was. I have been treated as if I’m somehow deliberately being distressed although to what end I don’t know. Given a choice between PTSD and health, no sane person would choose PTSD. A great deal of invalidation both from friends, acquaintances and family ensued. The hoary old chestnut of “You got a healthy baby so why don’t you concentrate on that and be thankful?!” has come up a lot. If the best thing to be said about my experience in the hospital is that they didn’t actually kill either of us, there’s something very wrong!

[Nemain]

Janet, do you know I've never had the chance to read your full birth story and I'm sitting here crying! Ohmigoddess you are such a strong fearless woman. What a thing to endure. So much resonated, from the clingy clothes in pregnancy - I went out the other night in tight tight black dress wihch I'd never wear normally (I'm 37 wks pg) to the patronising staff....to the theatre horrors and the fights my dh had to get my baby and I together.

I'm so glad I know what I know now and I can be a voice in the wilderness with you. I feel blessed to have met you. Thank you for sharing this.

Kris.

[The Morrigan]

Thank you, Kris. I'm having a little weep too. Thank you for the love you send across the sea, dear heart!
Sniff sniff.
:

[ruby]

When things don't go according to plan people just don't understand do they? Thank you for sharing your story.
~Ruby with tears

[~*heket*~]

This story makes me angry, it makes me cry and most of all it makes me desperate to hug and protect you big sister! We truly live, love, laugh, and cry together as sisters and women. Hugs, hope, and healing.

[homebirthmum]

Yeh Janet, What do I say to this? I can see why you are such a warrior.
Rach

[The Morrigan]

Thanks women!
*hugs*

[The Morrigan]

This is my complaint letter. It's longer than my birth story

Dear Blank,
I am writing to inform the Royal Women¡¦s Hospital of my extreme dissatisfaction with their services. I transferred to RWH in November last year during a home birth. I was already a client of the hospital having had antenatal screening performed there. The way in which I, my partner, my support woman and my professional midwife, and my baby, were treated was utterly appalling.

Further, and more recently, despite having contacted the Patient Representatives twice in May regarding anomalies in my medical record, they have not responded to me with answers. This too is extremely unsatisfactory. On the first occasion I spoke to XXX and asked her:-
1. Why was the EFM readout not included in my notes? I want to know exactly how much time the monitor was on given the midwife¡¦s assertion that she took it off at my request was not true.
2. Was a specimen taken of cord blood from my son? It is clearly ordered but there is no report and we did not consent to it.
3. What time did the operation start and finish? I know XXX has this information as she referred to it in our conversation and I did not see why it could not be supplied to me.

On the first occasion XXX told me that
1. Readouts were not normally given as clients were not qualified to interpret them. I told her my midwife could do this for me and I wanted the record.
2. She said she would investigate and get back to me.
3. And likewise with this request.

She said she would ring me the following week. A week later, having heard nothing, I rang and spoke to XXX. Ms XXX told me exactly the same information as Ms XXX had the previous week and promised to get back to me. It is now August and she still has not done this. Why not?

I also received two letters in January from staff in the operating theatre. The letter from the two nurses is inadequate in a number of ways.
1. Their disrespectful way of repeatedly referring to Midwife QQQ as ¡§Jane.¡¨
2. The clear implication that their behaviour was caused in some way by Midwife QQQ and her behaviour was somehow inappropriate. This was patently not the case. Midwife QQQ attempted repeatedly to forge a rapport with the theatre staff and despite politely introducing herself, was received with the retort, ¡§My name¡¦s yuck, if you want it for the complaint form.¡¨ She was also subjected to staff complaining about ¡§people wandering about in theatre¡¨ as if she was somehow irresponsible or uneducated about theatre etiquette. This is obviously untrue.
3. Their stating that Midwife QQQ, and they, did not fully understand the early mother-baby contact policy. Midwife QQQ understood it fully, having pursued it with other clients. The nurse who made the final decision stated clearly within hearing of me and my midwife that she did not care if this happened at other times, it was not happening on her ¡§watch¡¨. This was despite my midwife advocating for me and even the support of the obstetrician. This clearly is not a misunderstanding but a deliberate act.
4. There was a racial slur made against the obstetrician in my hearing in theatre. This is not mentioned at all.
5. In concluding their letter, the nurses allege that they sincerely regret any unhappiness they may have caused during the operation. This also shows how little they understand the impact of their indefensible actions. Not only will the pain of this punitive measure stay with me for the rest of my life, it could well have impacted on both Conor and me to disrupt our bonding and therefore open the way to PND particularly given how traumatised I was by the entire hospital experience at this point. It also disrupted his first attempts to breastfeed and since he was sucking furiously on both fists most of the hours without me, I can only assume he was ready to be fed. He was denied this basic right. Given that RWH claims to be a WHO baby-friendly hospital this is truly appalling.
6. The icy atmosphere in the theatre was one of the worst aspects of our experience. I have spoken to other women who have experienced caesareans and staff were kind and respectful, telling them when the operation had begun, and showing them their baby over the curtain before whisking it away to the paed. Staff made the women feel that they were really having a baby and it was to be celebrated. My experience was terrible, silent apart from abusive comments and conducted as if we were an inconvenience. Without us your staff would not have jobs and no one deserves the treatment we received. I did not know who performed the operation until I received the photographs as the obstetrician completely ignored me in theatre.

To clarify some of the difficulties we encountered with staff I have taken the information from your web site about rights and expectations and demonstrated how the hospital did not live up to even basic expectations of politeness. I also include my entire experience, in order, so that it may be tackled as a complete experience and not in discrete chunks for each department. This was not a failure of some people to meet client needs, this was a monumental failure of culture and infrastructure.



From your web site:

Your expectations
A good patient does not mean a quiet patient
You can:
„h Ask questions
„h Keep asking questions until you understand what you want to know
„h Tell everyone involved in your care what you need
„h Tell someone if you have a problem. Ask for an interpreter if you need one.
The hospital staff want to do the best they can for you. Telling us that you have a problem helps us to improve your care.


This was patently not adhered to in my experience of the hospital. Even in my antenatal contact with the hospital for blood tests. When I asked a question about what a test was for, the reply was ¡§Everyone has one.¡¨ This is not a helpful response. During the time I spent in the labour ward the staff would not answer our questions, would not listen to what we needed and wanted and would not respond when told that their behaviour was unhelpful. The midwife strode away when challenged about her attitude to us saying, ¡§I can¡¦t listen to this, I have more important things to do.¡¨


Patient rights
As a patient of The Royal Women's Hospital you have the right to:
„h Receive the best care available

I do not believe that this happened at all particularly since I waited five hours for appropriate pain relief.
„h Be treated with respect

I was not treated respectfully by the staff in the labour ward or the operating theatre or recovery.

„h Have as much privacy as possible

I had staff I did not know and was not introduced to coming into the room where I was scantily clad and in distress. This could be prevented. Why were our names not on the door like they were for other clients in the labour ward?

„h Expect confidentiality about your care

I received this.

„h Receive available information about your medical condition

We could not get information about what was happening in the hospital or about proposed management of my labour.

„h Seek a second opinion about your medical condition

NA

„h Participate in decisions which affect your well-being

I was not given a choice about pain relief for my operation, having my baby in recovery with me, having ARM, or constant EFM.

„h Be informed to your satisfaction about your treatment before you give your consent

I was not told exactly what constituted a caesarean and therefore did not give informed consent. I was not consulted about how my labour was to be managed. There was never a clear message given to us about proposed management.

„h Enquire about the costs of your care before admission

NA
„h Be accompanied by a support person at most times

I was accompanied by my midwife who was also treated appallingly in the operating theatre. She was also treated disrespectfully when her notes on my labour were ignored as though she were not an equal professional with hospital staff.

„h Seek the assistance of a professional qualified interpreter
„h Accept or refuse student involvement in your treatment
„h Be informed about available hospital and other support services

NA
„h Be offered time to ask questions

I was not given information or the chance to ask questions about the caesarean. It is not my responsibility as a consumer to initiate this discussion with the doctor. It is their job to tell me exactly what will happen and seek my informed consent for the procedures involved.

„h Be offered time to consider the information supplied

There was no information supplied other than a list of risks many of which were not evidence-based.


„h Refuse any treatment and services you are not comfortable with

I cried out in pain and told the obstetrician to take her hand out of my vagina but she ignored me. I was given morphine suppositories without my consent or knowledge. I was given syntocin in 3rd stage without my consent or knowledge. I did not know my baby¡¦s cord blood would be tested and therefore did not consent to it. I did not want ARM or EFM but despite actively disagreeing with EFM it was repeatedly strapped onto me without permission. We were initially told it would be on for 10 ¡V 20 minutes. It was on for 40 minutes the first time and then strapped onto me at various times without even asking me.


The Hospital will endeavour to:
„h Respect your needs and rights

Clearly this did not happen.

„h Give you clear information about your medical condition and treatment

Clearly this did not happen.

„h Offer you advice and support

I did not receive sympathetic support from any staff except the two midwives on the ward the following day. Staff to this point had been rude, disrespectful, and unhelpful ¡V except the anaesthetist who was kind, professional and supportive.


Obtaining consent is poorly conducted in your hospital. A doctor asks (not always clearly and not necessarily to my face, in my experience) if they can perform a VE. While they have their hand inside the woman, they ¡§ask¡¨ if they can perform another procedure or even more than one procedure. How is this appropriate? Before the VE is commenced a conversation needs to take place like this:-

Hello, my name is ABC XYZ. How are you feeling at the moment? (wait for responses and actually listen to them as if they are meaningful ¡V they are!) If a VE is thought necessary continue like this:-

I feel that I need to investigate what¡¦s happening with your labour. It seems (for example) that your labour has slowed and I need to ascertain why. One of the things that helps with this is to perform a vaginal examination. How do you feel about that?

I would have said yes to that.

We can manage your labour a number of ways. If I find while examining you that your membranes are intact, I may suggest that you have them ruptured to speed labour up. The pros and cons of that are as follows. How do you feel about that?

I would have said no to this without compelling reasons or discussion with my own midwife.

I could also insert a foetal scalp monitor into the baby¡¦s head while I¡¦m examining you. The pros and cons are as follows. How do you feel about that?

I would have said no to this also.

OK. So you are happy for me to perform a vaginal exam, but you do not want your membranes ruptured or a foetal scalp monitor inserted. Do I have that right? Please let me know if there¡¦s anything I can do to make the VE easier for you. I understand that it can be painful. I will wait until you let me know that it¡¦s ok to proceed and I¡¦ll be as gentle as I can.

I would have said thank you and cooperated to the best of my ability given that I was in pain.

If I had been treated with this kind of respect my experience would have been completely different.


The following are questions which need to be addressed by RWH.


1. Why were staff routinely evasive, rude and patronising to me, my partner, my midwife and my support person?
2. Why did they insist on asking my partner questions about my labour when I had a professional midwife with me?
3. Why were my midwife¡¦s notes and expertise ignored?
4. Why was constant monitoring considered vital despite it causing me immense pain? Regular doppler checks are perfectly adequate and associated with better outcomes for mothers and babies.
5. Why was the monitor attached to me on several occasions without my consent?
6. Why does XXX's record state she removed the monitor at my request and only had it on occasionally when it was on constantly? Both my partner and QQQ were required to force it into my body at various times, for long periods, causing me great pain which was not considered important.
7. Why is there no mention in the midwife¡¦s record of the repeated offers of pethidine to me? This was declined due to its poor record in helping labour pain and its effect on the foetus.
8. Why did Dr XXX not seek to discuss her proposed management before performing a VE for a fetal scalp monitor? She would have had to rupture my membranes to do this but she didn¡¦t even mention that part of the procedure.
9. Why did Dr ZZZ not introduce herself to me? I had no idea what her name was until I received my discharge summary.
10. Why did she not seek my informed consent when giving me a VE? She scanned the faces of my partner, support person and midwife but did not directly ask me.
11. Why did she not stop examining me when I cried out for her to stop as she was causing me immense pain?
12. Why did she not apologise for causing me immense pain?
13. Why did she not discuss with me, before inserting her fingers, that she wanted to perform an amniotomy and why?
14. What was the purpose of the amniotomy given the position of my baby and the fact that he was stuck? I gave consent under duress to this in the hope that the hospital would get me some pain relief and take care of me.
15. Why did she augment my labour without my consent with ARM and without any pain relief despite how painful my contractions became after her actions?
16. Why did she repeatedly pat my belly without my permission? If this was an attempt to be pleasant, it was rude, patronising and inappropriate, especially given how she was behaving towards me.
17. Why would the staff not communicate about the long wait and why did they feel it necessary to call a security officer?
18. Why did I have to wait almost 5 hours before appropriate pain relief became available?
19. Since my baby was in a position which made vaginal birth very difficult and potentially dangerous, and I was exhausted, why was I expected to wait yet another 4 hours from when my epidural was administered to see what might happen? No VE was offered at this time to see what, if any, progress I had made in the intervening hours with the massive contractions I had endured.
20. Why did Dr ZZZ say to me ¡§You can¡¦t come in here demanding a caesarean with the first niggling pains of labour.¡¨ when I had been in documented labour for about 26 hours before I saw her and strong labour since 4pm?
21. Why, when it is clear from comparing the reports, that my baby was going backwards, was there no attention paid to this but an insistence on my waiting to see what happened?
22. Why was I not given information about the actual operation? I was given poorly evidenced risks for the surgery but not told what the surgery actually entailed.
23. Why was I not consulted about post-operative pain relief? I was not asked about receiving suppositories as pain relief or what kind of drugs were available to me despite what was provided being drugs that pass into breast milk.
24. Why was I not told that forceps might be employed to remove my baby? Something else I found out from the photographs before I received my medical record.
25. Why was I not consulted about syntometrine for stage three?
26. Did I, or did I not, have a vaginal swab? Julie Campbell thought that I must have since she believes it is usually part of the procedure but it is not mentioned in my medical record.
27. Why is the surgeon¡¦s record of the operation inaccurate? My wound was lengthened, and the surgeon attempted manual removal of the baby before forceps.
28. Why did XXX tell me that the operation was completely normal and without incident when my observing midwife could see this was not the case?
29. Why was my baby not with me in recovery as it was not an emergency c-sec? His Apgars were perfectly fine, I was in no danger and it is hospital policy. This left me open to even greater risk of PND after the trauma of hospital treatment to that point. The hospital can never give me back the first 2 hours of my child¡¦s life and it is a pain I will carry for the rest of mine.
30. Why was one nurse able to override my wishes, as advocated by my midwife, the approval of the obstetrician, and hospital policy which purports to support skin-to-skin contact after labour?
31. Why did theatre staff treat me and my midwife so rudely and disrespectfully? This was not helped by the letters I received which attempt to blame my midwife and do not address their many examples of poor behaviour.
32. Why did my private midwife have to ask repeatedly for my partner to be in the theatre before the operation began?
33. Why was a nurse in theatre aggressive and antagonistic to my midwife and me? When Midwife QQQ attempted to defuse the situation the nurse said, ¡§Yuck's my name if you want it for the complaint form.¡¨ This was after Midwife QQQ had tried to introduce herself in the hope of securing better relations and a better atmosphere for my experience.
34. Why did Dr ZZZ not speak to me or my partner in theatre to keep us informed of what was happening and when? I found out who performed the procedure on having my photographs developed.
35. Why did a nurse shout at me to take my hand off my belly before the operation had even begun? She shouted, ¡§Take your hand off that!¡¨
36. Why was there a racial slur against the obstetrician in theatre?
37. Why was I considered to have no pain in recovery despite clearly stating where I had some discomfort?
38. Was Conor¡¦s cord blood tested without our knowledge or consent? Why is there no report from it in my notes? I have the right to accept or refuse procedures on behalf of my child.
39. Why are my records stating both emergency and elective caesarean?
40. Why does the surgeon¡¦s record give ¡§maternal exhaustion¡¨ as the primary indication and ¡§patient¡¦s request¡¨ as secondary when it was because he was in deep transverse arrest?
41. Why do my records state I received both a spinal and an epidural?
42. Why is there a record of ¡¥skin contact¡¦ with my baby when my only meeting with him entailed me being about to see him and kiss his fingers? This is not skin contact in any meaningful way.
43. Why is Conor described as having 2 umbilical arteries when I have video footage of there clearly being 3?
44. Why is my GBS state described as negative when actually it was unknown? In other places of my record it is correctly described.
45. Why was I given drugs to take after the c-sec that are specifically contraindicated in breastfeeding? As I was leaving the hospital I was given Tramadol and Voltaren to take for pain. I specifically asked Dr HHH if these would pass into my breast milk and he clearly stated they would not. Had he told me the truth, I would have asked for further explanation and different drugs. These have been demonstrated to pass into breast milk and into babies.
46. Why does the midwife state that an ¡¥indepth discussion¡¦ of LUCSC occurred when it did not? All that took place was a listing of possible complications, not a discussion and no useful or relevant information was given to me. The midwife was not even present at that time.
47. After leaving the hospital I received 2 letters from staff members purporting to be apologies but in reality blaming my midwife and clearly showing no comprehension of the damage caused by separating a perfectly healthy baby and mother. If I am to receive an apology, which is fully warranted, it ought to be respectful, responsible and genuine. These letters were none of these.


I want staff to read my story and know that each time they are thoughtless or less than caring with a labouring woman they risk her mental health and the wellbeing of her baby. We all deserve better treatment than I received and I hope that by drawing this experience to your attention that staff will begin to change the kind of culture that causes this appalling state of affairs. I deeply resent that I have had to spend a vast proportion of the time of my son¡¦s early life recovering from how I was treated instead of being able to fully celebrate the new life we created. My partner and I, as well as Midwife QQQ, are owed genuine apologies by RWH.

Yours sincerely,

Janet Fraser

[motherearth]

I haven't read the complaint letter have to make dinner, yet so my reaction is just to your story. Omg how can these things happen to woman. Who do they think they are. OMG I definitely know why and why I didn't want a hospital birth. Unfortunately you had to experience it and i feel so much for you you poor thing, Conor and your family of helpers. I just wish these things didn't happen. So mad. I hopw you have and I know you have grown from this experience and I completely understand your passion for birth and assisting pg and birthing mums and dads. I wish you well in your quest and your own new journey to having a more wonderful birth and pg soooooon. Love always

Wendy

[The Morrigan]

Thank you, Wendy. Recognition and an appropriate response to my story makes a big difference to me. Sometimes people glaze over when I expose my distress and then I have an urge to tell 20 more people to get some validation.

I hope to share the next journey with you!
Love and hugs to you.