What do I do now?

I orginally got a copy of my medical records from my daughter's birth just a few months after she was born. At that time, I read them, discussed them with my family practice doctor, and decided to enter counseling to learn to cope with my experience. I put the records away, and completely forgot about where they were.

Last summer, things were really getting to me again, and since I couldn't remember where my records were in addition to them being somewhat incomplete, I requested a new more complete copy of them. By the time I received them, I was back in counseling, and I'd relaxed enough that I didn't really feel the need to read them.

When I was sick over Thanksgiving, I found the new set of records. I paged through them, re-read the narratives, and threw them out. I noticed that they specifically mentioned me "consenting" to procedures. However, I didn't remember that being in the original set of documents. However, the other day, I noticed the original set of the records was buried at the bottom of a drawer in my daughter's changing table. I made a note of their location in the back of my mind, and went about my business.

Yesterday morning, I woke up a little bit before the alarm went off. As I was laying in bed, it suddenly hit me. They'd changed the original records. It bothered me a bit, but I had work to do, so I put the thought aside.

This morning, I grabbed my original copy of the records, and re-read the notes on my daughter's delivery. In the original narrative, there's no mention of the doctor obtaining consent for the D & C, manual removal of the placenta, or fixing the uterine inversion. However, I'm positive that the current records have been altered to include "consent" issues.

What do I do? I don't know if I should request another copy of the records. I'm not sure if I should file a complaint with the hospital, state medical department, or find an attorney. I had registered a complaint with the state medical department a couple of years ago, and I'm sure my records were altered to avoid punishment at that time.

I don't know. I'm perplexed, frustrated, and angry right now. I feel like I've been re-violated because they're unwilling to face up to their own actions.

Giving Birth Online

Dear Radio Station Host-

I know that it's "news" that someone in our community chose to broadcast their child's birth live on the internet. I can understand choosing to play the end of this event on the radio once to encourage conversation. However, I do not understand choosing to replay it over, and over, and over again. Just because you found the experience of giving birth to be the best moment of your life doesn't mean that every other mother or father feels the same way about their children's birth.

The sound of a newborn's cry can be amazing, but it can also be terrifying when it doesn't happen. Just stab the knife into every mom or dad whose baby was rushed to the NICU by replaying those sounds over and over again. What about the mom who gives birth to a stillborn child. That's a knife in the heart to those moms as well because they didn't and will never hear the sound of that baby crying in those moments. What about moms who have complications after the baby is born. The sounds of a baby's cry can shove them back into the delivery room where people are flooding the room trying to save mom's life.

I know society chooses to portray giving birth as joyful, fulfilling, amazing and miraculous, but that isn't every woman's experience. I work as a moderator on a forum for moms who are struggling with birth trauma. They've had experiences that leave them with mental health issues like PPD, PTSD, and other postpartum mood disorders. Everyday with their new child is a challenge. Listening to your broadcast replaying those moments can cause a mom with PTSD to have nightmares, flashbacks, and other anxiety issues. I know because I suffered from them yesterday and last night.

Women who don't have the great birth experience often feel isolated. They're not allowed to talk about their child's birth because society doesn't accept these experiences as valid. When a woman tried to talk about it, she gets shut down. She's told not to share her experiences with other women who are pregnant. Trust me, talking about hemorrhaging at a baby shower will get a woman verbally shot down in less than 30 seconds. The last thing they need are more reminders that "they did something wrong" or "they failed".

Please consider that not everyone experiences things the same way before you decide to replay a soundtrack of a very emotional experience over the air.

Concerned Listener

Is birth women's war?

I’ve been thinking on this post for a while. I’ve started writing it, and put it away because I couldn’t find the words. However, after reading this blog post, I decided to pick it up and try again.

Is childbirth women’s war?

When I was pregnant, I asked my grandmother about my mom’s birth. At 85 years old, she could still vividly remember that day and her experience. My mom can still relate the stories of my and my sister’s births. My best friend can pull her memories of each of her children’s births at a moments notice. When you get together with a group of women at a baby shower or a wedding shower, it seems like birth stories come out of the closet.

I believe that we’re genetically programmed to remember the experience of giving birth. The combination of the hormones, the pain, the fear, the anxiety, the joy, and the love imprint those memories deeply into our brains. It’s not that big a stretch to believe that those memories can sometimes be improperly stored causing PTSD.

All over the internet, on discussions of PTSD after childbirth, you’ll see an argument stating that this cannot be a mental health disorder because it’s a natural occurrence in a woman’s life. However, no one debates the validity of PTSD in soldiers returning from war. Men have been going to war for thousands of years. Why is their experience considered to be out of the norm, but a woman’s childbirth experience is dismissed or trivialized?

Men have found some interesting ways to cope with the fallout of the experiences long before the PTSD diagnosis was made during the Vietnam War. They formed and joined groups like the VFW or the American Legion. They go, and hang out with others who have had similar experiences. It’s a safe place to discuss the horrors of what they saw, the feelings they had, and they can process the events.

Yet, women don’t have these types of places to go. In today’s society, new moms are often isolated from society. We’re left to navigate this new terrain by ourselves. Our parents are working, so we frequently don’t have our moms or dads to rely on in those first few days. Our husbands go back to work typically a few days or a week after the baby is born. We struggle to establish breastfeeding, caring for the other family members, and try to get enough sleep to function. There are days when just getting a shower seems like an insurmountable task. Is it any wonder that those memories can get hung up under those conditions?

I’ve heard some people wonder if PTSD after childbirth is a rich nation’s problem, but I don’t think it is. I think no matter where women give birth, that they’re at risk of developing this condition. Women in third world countries know that childbirth isn’t safe. Their entire pregnancy is spent in an atmosphere of anxiety. Will I survive? Will my child survive? If something goes wrong can they get me to a doctor or a midwife? They live with those fears for months. Those months of anxiety set them up for developing this condition when their childbirth experiences go awry. Just because they don’t have the resources for diagnosis and treatment doesn’t mean that they don’t develop the condition.

Others have blamed the medicalization of childbirth on the development of PTSD. However, I know that medical procedures don’t cause PTSD. It took months of counseling to admit this, but my PTSD had nothing to do with the medical procedures that were performed. They were entirely the result of the way that I was treated while I was in the care of the doctors and nurses at my daughter’s birth. The PTSD was a result of a lack of communication, a lack of understanding, a lack of consent, and a hostile birth environment.

Yep, I did call it a hostile birth environment. This is something that doctors, nurses, midwives, doulas, and support people can change. Medical professionals can choose to treat a birthing mom respectfully. They can choose to speak to her with honesty. They can accurately, and without coercion, discuss her options. They can choose to allow her to make a choice, so that she can own that decision. They can choose to make sure she understands the positive and negative consequences of her choice.

De-Briefing Tool (Part 1 Question 2)

What happened in the events leading up to the birth?

My pregnancy was never easy. It was unplanned. My husband didn't want to be a father. He sucked it up, and accepted it, but he was never supportive, excited, or happy about it. It was stressful knowing his feelings on the subject, but I just kept plodding along.

At 13 weeks, I had a scare. I had some spotting over the weekend. About the time I thought I should go get it checked out, it stopped. I went to the doctor right away on Monday morning. He did an ultrasound, figured that some blood got trapped behind the placenta, and put me back on the routine prenatal visit schedule.

At 19 weeks, I had my "big" ultrasound. They diagnosed me with partial placenta previa. Since it was still early, I knew there was a possibility that the placenta would move, but I started researching c-sections. I put off my childbirth classes until I could find out if it had moved. It seemed silly to spend all of that money only to end up with a c-section.

At 27 weeks, I went in for my partial placenta previa follow-up ultrasound and the one hour gestational diabetes screening. That night, the doctor called me at home. I had failed the one hour test, and had to schedule the three hour test. I failed that one too, so off to the dietitian I went. No candy, no cake, no ice cream, for Pete's sake I'm pregnant, but I can't eat anything but vegetables and meat. No more eating cereal for my bedtime snack. No more drinking OJ. Nothing. It sucked. The good news was that the placenta had moved, so I'm back to looking at a vaginal delivery. This is also the time when the doctor first mentioned that he "didn't think I'd make it to 40 weeks". What a crock, of course I was going to 40 weeks. I had been 3 weeks late, and I expected that peanut would be 2 weeks late as well.

Because of all of the GD issues, I started seeing the doctor weekly instead of bi-weekly. We finally got to week 33, and he told me that I could skip week 34's visit. Woohoo! I went to my family baby shower, and after I got home I noticed that I was really swollen. My legs were the size of watermelons. My husband hounded me to call the doctor, so Monday morning, I give him a call. I left a voicemail for the nurse, and not an hour later, she calls back. COME IN NOW! I'm thinking, it's just some swelling. Everybody swells up at the end of their pregnancy, what's the big freaking deal? But, as a dutiful, if resentful, patient, I trot my 34 week belly into the clinic. I walk in, and got on the scale. I gained weight. Finally, 34 weeks had gone by without me gaining any weight. I'm thinking I'm finally acting like a pregnant woman. I sit in the chair, they take my blood pressure, and it's high - too high. All of the sudden, he's telling me to go immediately to the hospital for an NST - what the heck is that? I drive up to the hospital parking lot, and call my husband in tears. I don't know what's wrong. I'm at the hospital. They're going to do some tests. I'm scared out of my mind. He tells me he's coming, and I head up to Labor and Delivery. I get to the desk. No one from the clinic has called, I'm trying to remember what the doctor said to have done. They get me into a room, hook me up to the monitors, and I just sit there alone, staring at the TV, crying, and hitting the joystick thing-a-ma-jig when peanut kicks. My husband calls, he's at the hospital, but can't find me. They didn't "admit" me as a patient, so the reception desk is useless. He finally makes it up to the floor, and into the room where I am. The doctor comes in, and says no more work, stay home, keep my feet up, no anything. Great - NOT. He says they'll induce, but they want me to make it to 37 weeks. He's kind of vague, and my husband hates him on sight. I'm frustrated because this wasn't part of my plan, but I'm a good girl, and head home.

My husband arranges for my in-laws to take the dogs for the remainder of my pregnancy. They're German short-hair pointers, so extremely energetic. There's no way for me to stay off my feet if they're at home.

I hang out at the house, watching Dr. Phil and Oprah. I'm bouncing off the walls with boredom. I feel like I have nothing to talk about. My husband keeps asking me for answers on when the baby is coming, but I don't know, and the doctor is vague. I only get out of the house twice a week. Once for the doctor appointment, and once for the NST.

A couple of weeks go by, and finally we get my induction date. My best friend comes to the house to help me with my "birth plan". What birth plan? This isn't the spontaneous experience that I wanted. I'm going to be hooked up to every monitor imaginable, there are no more choices to be made. I tell her that all I want is to walk out of the hospital as a healthy mom with a healthy baby. Whatever we have to do we'll do.