Both Sides of the Csection Divide

Week 35

So what I overheard that night in the ward was one of the two women trotting between the curtained off areas (a bit inconsiderately I thought since the other lady might've wanted to sleep) to share her woes. She was the lady in the corner bed (we'll call her cornered lady, for more reasons than one as you'll see) who was visiting the lady in the other window bed just across from me (we'll call her window lady).

It seems Cornered Lady was eager to discuss her plight with what she hoped was a sympathetic person in the same position as herself. Hence, barely waiting till both their attendant midwives and partners had gone. Her plight was one that is increasingly usual nowadays. She had had one child by emergency c-section a couple of years ago and it was a bad experience. She said the scar hurt for a year after, that it was a raised, ugly scar besides. But for (probably pretty sound) medical reasons the doctors were not in favour of a VBAC (vaginal birth after c-section) in her case and had scheduled her op the next week. She, however, was determined to go the all-natural way and avoid any intervention if possible. Which is why at the first sign of any contractions, she had booked herself into the hospital. She was obviously hoping for much sympathy and praise for her courage in putting evil medical practictioners in their place. But she was disappointed.

It turned out that Window lady, who had a pleasant voice and a rather posh accent, had chosen to have an Elective C-section. And not her first either. She had been pleased with the elective section she had with her last child. It had healed fast and the scar was negligible. She was all booked in to have her op that Thursday. She only came in today because of very strong contractions and was worried that she might go into labour before the scheduled op.

The two women couldn't be further apart in their approaches to birth. One was close to hysterical, panicked that she might not be able to avoid another c-section; while the other was not taking any chances of missing out on an planned c-section.

As it happened, Cornered Lady was still in the hospital when I was discharged 3 days later. Within that time she had managed to upset two midwives by demanding to be sent up to te Delivery suite, had a public altercation with the senior midwife and a hissy fit with her partner in the ward with all the rest of us pretending not to listen. What the midwives and her partner were telling her was that she was being unreasonable and uptight. That there was a good reason the doctors did not reccommend a VBAC for her. Also that she wasn't anywhere near going into labour and that it would be wrong to induce her against doctor's orders. She sent her husband away and took to arguing with the midwives that they should send her upstairs.

The whole situation seemed messy and unnecessary (perhaps you're thinking I'll see it differently once I go through it all myself?) I blame the atmosphere of distrust that has been created around hospital births and the illogical campaign of misinformation against c-sections.

Night at the Antenatal Ward

<----No, the ward wasn't anything like this, it was rather nice, this is what I had actually been expecting.


Week 35.
To continue from a more interesting point in my hospital saga two weeks ago...

After I'd had the intravenous drip going and had ingested one whole bag's worth (no antibiotics in sight yet, just the saline) and several loo trips (dragging the IV stand and fetal monitoring tubes with me), we were told I might have to stay overnight at the hospital. I'd been expecting to go home that night, so was surprised. Note however, neither I nor DH had any idea how serious my condition was. Even though the three young female docs had stood at the end of the bed and muttered together about Nephritis, it didn't mean anything to us. It was clever of them to have diagnosed it, though, its hard to catch when there're such few symptoms.

So after an hour or two of me and DH just waiting, listening to the hair-raising screams of women in labour in the wards all around us, a midwife came and told us I'll be shifted downstairs to an antenatal ward and be kept overnight. This meant DH would have to go home too as he wasn't allowed to stay beyond 10pm in the wards. So there followed another wait till midnight when the next shift came on and transferred me downstairs. I wasn't looking forward to being a shared ward (not that we could afford a private one ever) but would have to walk out to use the shared loos (wheeling my faithful IV stand with me). Ultimately it wasn't so bad, I got a window side bed in a still empty 4-bed ward. DH unpacked the stuff he'd got for me from home, clothes etc into the tiny locker and took the bags away (like the sign said to do, he's a very good boy). No dinner for me though as it was so late and all hospital catering had gone beddy-byes hours ago. DH left, and I was left alone to wheel myself to the loo ever so often.

Could not sleep though I was absolutely exhausted. The I.V. tube in my hand hurt like hell and the blood congealing in it made me feel sick. So I was all too awake when two other women were brought into the ward at different points in the night. wanted to tell them not to bother whispering and tiptoeing around since I was wide awake but didn't have the energy. As it was, I overheard a very interesting conversation...