Pregnancy
How The Homebirth Movement Failed Me
The night I went into labor I was prepared for everything except what was about to happen. I labored all night long. My midwife, present and compassionate during my prenatal care, checked out during my labor. Between contractions, I saw her laid out on my couch. Thank goddess, my good friend who is also a student midwife was there with me. After hours without progress, my midwife broke my waters. Nothing. Hours later, exhausted and in pain, she suggested we transfer to a hospital and because she was a “midwife†and not an “doctorâ€, I put my trust in her 100%. I didn’t question or challenge her the way I know I would’ve done had she been an OB. I regret that.
A painfully long car ride brought us to the hospital where, after a series of interventions yielded no progress in my labor, a C-section was recommended. By this point, my midwife was long gone. Her “work†was done. See, she was a home birth midwife, and what good was I to her anymore? If anything, I was a negative tick on her track record.
Everything that followed happened too quickly. The anesthesiologist injected shots into my abdomen and then kept asking if I could feel him pinching me, “Yesâ€, I kept saying, “yes, I can feel it.†They sliced me open. “You’re going to feel some pulling†the nurse said… and then I screamed in pain as they yanked my baby out of me. I watched from a spiritual distance as my mother and husband held their breath while the doctors worked to get my son to inhale. And as he cried out, I trembled uncontrollably from head to toe, completely detached from the moment. This was the part where they were supposed to rest my baby on my chest, where we were supposed to bond. Supposed to, supposed to, supposed to…