The Power of Words

I picked up the mail yesterday, and found a flyer from the hospital foundation. On the exterior of the envelope, along the bottom, left-hand side was their new motto: Transforming Lives. It made me start thinking about all of the comments that have really struck me to the core in the last 17 months. Most of the time, the comments were meant to be reassuring or innocuous, but they weren’t either of those things to me.

The first one was, “do you want to hold your baby?”, and my subsequent response, “No”. Doesn’t that seem like an innocuous question and response? The only problem was that question was asked just as I was realizing that things were going really wrong. I didn’t know what, but I was starting to feel dizzy, spacey, and a little woozy. Holding my daughter would have been a huge mistake, but I couldn’t get past my feelings of failure that I didn’t “want” to hold my baby. It would have been easier to say no to “Are you ready to hold your baby?” There’s a huge difference in the connotation of ready and want. One implies ability while the other implies desire. I desired holding my child, but I recognized that physically that wouldn’t have been smart.

When I went back to work, one of my co-workers asked me when I was going to have another child, “after all, popping out another one is no big deal”. Wow, what I experienced was “no big deal”! Everyone sure thought it was a pretty big deal that night. People were in and out of the room, trying to find the anesthesiologist, and shoving needles in my hands. So, just for the record:

hemorrhaging 60% of the blood in your body, no big deal
attempting to delivery your uterus, no big deal
needing the placenta to be surgically removed, no big deal
doctors debating if you should go to the ICU, no big deal
blood pressure crashing from 200 / 120 to 50 / 30, no big deal
needing 8 IV’s to pump all of the drugs into you, no big deal
believing that you’re dying as they roll you into the operating room, not a big deal

It’s amazing the things people assume about birth. They have no clue what your experience was, and yet they make the assumption that it was just like their sister’s or wife’s or friend’s experience. Even my parents and in-laws were guilty of this. They were too caught up in the moment to see beyond the baby.

The first time I interviewed a new OB, he told me, “The worst OB in the world can give you a better birth experience than you had the last time.” I know it was meant to be reassuring. I was supposed to be comforted by that statement, but to me it was a condemnation of my skills in finding and choosing my previous doctor. After all, if the “worst OB in the world” is more competent than my previous OB was, what does that say about my choice? It was patronizing, and I never went back to him. The last thing I needed was someone else patting me on the head like a child.

What about, “you didn’t advocate for yourself” and “you didn’t educate yourself”. I love these ones, because it puts all of the blame on mom for the poor outcome. No one else has any responsibility because she “didn’t advocate or educate” herself. So, moms are supposed to read the doctor’s minds. We’re supposed to be more educated than the caregivers we hire. We’re supposed to argue, refuse, or question every time a medication is adjusted, a tool is picked up, or a twinge is felt. We’re supposed to have eyes in the back of our heads, and no matter what our physical and emotional condition we’re supposed to be able to force medical personnel to answer questions truthfully. We’re supposed to know if a homebirth is a better option than a hospital birth or a water birth. We’re supposed to know if we should take Hypnobirthing, Bradley, Lamaze, or the hospital childbirth education class. We’re supposed to know which books are the proper ones to read. Wow! Did you know that pregnant women have superhuman, omniscient, god-like powers? What a crock! Advocacy requires open and honest communication between caregivers and patients. Without that free-flowing information a patient cannot be an effective advocate for themselves. As for education, there’s no way for any one person to know absolutely everything about birth. Most of the time it works just fine, but sometimes interventions are necessary. We all make the best decisions at the time with the information we have at hand. All these statements do is blame the mom for her experience, and sometimes mom’s not the one who should be blamed.

“Transforming lives”, the hospital certainly transformed my life. They didn’t just make me a new mom; they traumatized me in the process. I became a victim of medical assault. I was trivialized, de-humanized, and objectified. They dismissed my attempts to advocate for myself. They ran roughshod over me and my husband. We didn’t leave as a happy family of three. We left broken. I had a husband who hated his child because she “caused” mom to be so sick. I left unable to give my daughter a bath without triggering a flashback. I was weak from blood loss, and emotionally destroyed by the experience. Then they re-traumatized me by asking me to fund their initiative to create a hotel-like atmosphere in the birthing center so they can “transform lives” when what they really need is to make sure they’re properly staffed for an emergency. Private rooms, rugs on the floors, pretty drapes at the windows, and sofa beds for dad to sleep on aren’t going to help the mom who needs immediate surgical care, and there’s no anesthesiologist on the premises.

Finally, my two favorites that always seem to come together. “You should be grateful that you have a healthy child”, and “all that matters is a healthy child”. Why do people believe that being grateful it all turned out okay doesn’t mean that you can’t be angry about how it was achieved. The two feelings aren’t mutually exclusive, and the co-existence of those two emotions is part of what makes recovering difficult. I’m grateful that the OB I chose was competent. I’m grateful that he held everything together until the CNA and the anesthesiologist got back to the hospital. I’m grateful that he was capable of resolving the issues without resorting to a hysterectomy. However, that doesn’t mean I’m not angry that he failed to communicate what was going wrong to me while I was capable of understanding it. It doesn’t mean I’m not angry that I was treated like a vessel, and not like a human being. It doesn’t mean I’m not angry that he didn’t ask if the epidural was working before he tried to pry the placenta out of me. There’s this dichotomy of emotions that I struggle with everyday. As for the “all that matters is a healthy baby” statement, does mom not count? Does dad not count? A healthy baby needs a healthy home. They need parents who care for them. When a parent can’t stand the thought of holding their own child, they’re broken. The home is broken, the family is broken, and the baby will eventually grow to be broken too.

Words have amazing power. Choosing the right ones can be difficult. For moms with PTSD or other post-partum mood disorders, the wrong words can wreak havoc on their recovery. They cut us to the bone, instead of building us up. I know it’s not intentional, but words can cause damage too.