The inappropriately titled “recovery room” in which we were to spend our next forty-three hours in the hospital really solidified our disdain for the staff and the regulations of our hospital. Our first nurse came into our room, took note of our son’s vitals and told us that although his breathing rate was a little high. She went on to say that this was only hour two of a seven hour transition period and that there was nothing to worry about. Unfortunately, there was a shift change shortly after we arrived and our new nurse promptly informed us that his breathing rate was too high and that it was normal protocol to take newborns in this state to the hospital nursery.
There were so many falsehoods in what our nurse was preparing to do to our child that my wife and I made a list of why he should not be taken. Our son’s breathing rate was at sixty-five bpm, while the normal is sixty. Mind you that this was in hour four of a seven hour transition period, so to make assumptions about the health of our baby at this point was about as premature as a twelve year old boy’s ejaculation. Furthermore, it was absolutely vital to us that we establish a strong parental connection and a routine pattern of breastfeeding that we viewed as imperative to the long-term health or our son.
As our second nurse described what would happen to our son when taken to the nursery, my wife would occasionally look up at me as if to say, “this bitch has no idea what she’s talking about.” In our nurse’s defense, most uneducated first-time mothers are probably more than willing to give up their child in such a scenario. After all, unnecessary precautionary measures and a mother’s sleep should trump the welfare of your child. Right? Obviously, this was not the case with my wife. When we asked our nurse if she could come back in an hour to take another assessment of our son, she coldly informed us that she had four other babies to monitor. We insisted that our nurse consult the pediatrician and not take our son.
When our nurse came back, after several minutes of utter fear by both my wife and I, she finally acquiesced and simply allowed our son to be hooked up to a monitor in the room with us. So here my wife and I were, with our six-hour old child with us, completely paranoid — not that something was wrong with our child, but that he would be unnecessarily taken from us. Talking to the pediatrician must have given our nurse some kind of insight though, because she completely back-peddled from her previous opinion concerning our son’s health. Fortunately, our determination paid off in the end, and our son was never taken away from us in our forty-three hour hospital stay.
The only other problem we encountered during our tenure at the hospital was the frequency with which hospital staff – whether it was nurses, technicians or even doctors – would enter our room. I mean my God, we had someone coming in at 2:30 one night to check the temperature of our refrigerator. Uhh, thanks, but no thanks, monitoring of refrigerators should best be left in the hands of sperm bank employees. It’s kind of sad, but our first forty-eight hours, which were supposed to be filled with moments of bonding and developing nursing routines, was completely disturbed by the constant onslaught of the staff. The end result of our frequent visits by the hospital staff was that my wife had a break-down, which coming from a woman who never cried or screamed once during child-birth, was a little disturbing.
The moment my wife began crying in the recovery room I knew the hospital had officially broken us. Of course the staff in our room at the time was forced to ask if my wife had a history of depression. If there had been any communication between the pre-natal and post-natal nursing units other than vital readouts and maybe some brief doctor notes, such a question would not have been necessary. In a way, my wife’s breakdown was a good thing, because it sent a definitive message to those sagacious enough to see it. Seeing my wife’s condition, our primary obstetrician, who had at least had a superficial knowledge of my wife’s situation, immediately signed our release papers.
Our ride back to our apartment was the first real five minutes of peace that we had felt in over sixty hours. No more dealing with hostile nurses or assessments every fifteen minutes. Now we could just relax and start establishing a serene and stress-free environment for our son so that he could start nursing with a normal routine. Our ordeal wasn’t completely over though. The first two days we had to take our son to the pediatrician for a moderately higher than normal Billerubin level, another common diagnosis that usually only ends up causing unneeded stress on the parents and the new-born. Even though going to the pediatrician was a pain, we were still so happy about being home that we did rest a little easier knowing that everything was okay.
A lot of the stress we endured after and even before the birth of our son was breast-feeding related. It may seem odd to many people who were nursed with formula milk, but the thought of nursing our son with anything but breast milk was an anathema to everything we had read about raising a healthy new-born. It’s somewhat humorous and pretty ironic that, as an “enlightened,” post-industrial society, many women still prefer formula milk over breastfeeding.
Whether you’re mistakenly looking to provide more nutrition for your baby or trying to protect your bodily image, mother’s of newborns need to understand that breast milk is the healthier way to feed your baby, and not doing so is placing your needs before your child. There are numerous reasons that women end up not breast-feeding or giving up after several weeks, but a little education can go a long way. If more couples would read even one book about breast-feeding before their child is born, I’m sure there would be a substantial increase in the number of families who choose to breast-feed.
There was an overt sense of paranoia on behalf of the staff that we dealt with that border lined on toxic. I think that much of this paranoia is directly related to that dreaded, almost lethal word in the medical industry: liability. In defense of certain members of the hospital staff we dealt with, they do have to protect themselves from the scourge of malpractice lawyers, that can’t wait to get a fat check over some ridiculous court ruling. We should really applaud those people in the medical field who have dedicated their lives to curing and preventing illnesses.
It’s unfortunate that the people that save our lives and perform tasks that 95% of the populace would faint over, are the same people who are now subject to huge malpractice cases for treating some illness that would have killed you fifteen years ago. I think that if liability concerns had not been such an issue, our birthing experience would have been markedly better. However, there was still a lot of behavior with respect to the staff that went beyond mere liability issues and oftentimes border lined on rude and offensive.
Determination and education are the two most important attributes I learned from the birth of our son. I know it sounds like a cheesy catchphrase that you might hear from a middle school physical education teacher or an assistant manager at the Red Lobster, but determination and education is what got us through the whole process. Determination is especially important when dealing with hospital personnel that are either unwilling to respect your birthing wishes, or too ignorant to understand what a natural childbirth entails.
Education was also a major component in our childbirth. Like anything else, the more you prepare and educate yourself for childbirth and post-natal care, the more comfortable you will be when it finally arrives. Although I don’t think anything could have really prepared me for our experience in the hospital, I was glad to have a basic understanding of what my wife wanted and how to comfort her through the process. Having the right amount of education and determination can drastically improve your odds of having the kind of childbirth you want.
Whether a mother chooses to have a natural childbirth or an epidural (or half an epidural or one sixteenth of an epidural) as long as the determination and education are in place, you can have the birthing experience that corresponds to your wishes.
Editor’s note: Click here for part one of Paul’s saga.