The day that I gave birth to my son was the happiest day of my life. It was not fun nor easy, but when I finally got to hold the little guy in my arms, it could not compare to any other moment. Every other thing paled in comparison, and the only other thing that could possibly compare would be if I ever have another child. (Which Jonathan is ready for and has been telling me for over a month and a half that I need to get married so he can have a brother or sister.)
My son loves hearing about the day I gave birth to him. He asks me at least every other week to tell him the story. He finds some parts rather humorous, particularly the part where I almost got dumped out of the wheel chair three times. I on the other hand did not find the situation humorous at all, and neither did the doctor who finally delivered him. As a matter of fact, the hospital that was supposed to deliver him got an earful the following day.
I had read in pregnancy books that sometimes you need to stand up to hospital staff and tell them you are not comfortable with their decision. I never in my wildest dreams thought that this would be the case for me. I had a midwife that I absolutely loved. I was very comfortable with her. She knew my family history, how all of the women in my family dilate to three or four and then stop until we are literally delivering the baby. Well, she went on vacation two days before I went into labor.
I went into the hospital that I was supposed to deliver Jonathan at, and after five hours they decided that I wasn’t going to have him because I wasn’t dilating; even though my contractions were getting stronger and went from five minutes apart to three minutes apart. After being home for a couple hours my contractions were at two minutes apart, and when I called the midwife on call she told me to take a warm bath, it will help. After an hour long bath, my contractions were a minute apart and she told me to take two of the pills they sent home with me, it would help me sleep and I wasn’t going to have this baby tonight and probably wouldn’t for a few day. She then told me to just come in on Thursday for my appointment with my regular midwife, and she’d take are of it if I was still uncomfortable. I ended up having my water break at 11:45 PM, and on the next contraction, he was crowning. I literally held him in for the next 35 minutes while I made my way back to wake my mom up so she could drive me, while she drove me to the closest hospital, and while they got me into a bed and ran around trying to find the doctor who was supposed to be there. Luckily, Jonathan was just a little blue when he was born, and had no permanent damage, but everyone was angry at the midwife and other hospital. I also had nurses stop in all day the next day because from the time I was pushed threw the front door of the hospital, till the time the doctor said “It’s a boy,” it was only four minutes, and they said that was the fastest delivery they’ve ever had at the hospital.
I think this story is important, and I telling this story so that maybe another future single parent can stand up to hospital staff if need be and save themselves some trouble and worry. Hopefully after reading this, some of you will not only say I don’t agree with your decision, but stay there, even if it is in the waiting room, until you are either comfortable with leaving, or you have your baby.