When Your Labor Experience Leaves You Angry (and Other Birth Trauma Stories)
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A friend somehow stumbled on Jack’s birth story a week or so ago and remarked how births are surprisingly traumatic for a lot of mothers, and how we should discuss it here — particularly how to deal when your labor experience leaves you angry. I agree — as I noted in that (extraordinarily long) post, Jack and I both came out fine in the end, but not without a few harrowing first days for me, in large part due to the feeling that the hospital kind of forgot about me. We couldn’t get a doctor to stay in the room for his birth, and then they stuck us in an isolated room and didn’t visit us for hours afterwards. I nearly passed out the first time I tried to go to the bathroom by myself because I didn’t know I was supposed to ring for the nurse; no one even mentioned that I should try to feed the baby every 90 minutes to establish a supply. Heck, I didn’t even speak to my up-to-that-point beloved OB/GYN — or anyone from her office — after the initial phone call of “Yup, sounds like labor, come to the hospital!”
I was angry at the whole labor experience for a very, very long time. I questioned myself — how could I have done it better? Had I been too complacent, too lazy — expecting that the hospital would treat a first-time mother and her child with kid gloves? And my doctor — I really had loved her and thought of her as a good friend. The fact that I didn’t see her or anyone from her office for the entire three days I was at the hospital — even after I called to complain about it the morning of my last day there — felt like a complete and total betrayal. One of the nurses even told me that my doctor had been in the hospital — on my floor — after I had delivered, and that she wondered why the doctor hadn’t come in to see me. The nurse’s words stung me deeply. Even this I look back on with cynicism, and think, well of COURSE your doctor doesn’t care about you on a personal level — you’re just a number to her; she has hundreds of patients.
The only thing that helped me recover from my birth experience trauma with Jack, honestly, was Harry’s birth, which went much better. I still haven’t finished writing that post, but briefly: my water broke at 5 AM, we were at the hospital by 8 AM, and he was born around 2:05 PM. I had switched hospitals (and doctors) for the birth, and saw not one but two doctors from my OB practice within 24 hours after birth; the hospital also had a lactation consultant making personal visits to each new mother, as well as breastfeeding classes at the hospital each day. They even had a sign up in the hallway telling mothers how many laps around the hallways counted as a quarter of a mile. It was 1000% better — and even then there were parts of it that stank, like when my nurse went on break in the middle of the night and a random, bitchy, judgy nurse insisted on inserting herself into the situation. Or when I decided to stay a second night at the hospital (on advice from another friend who’d just had her second), and I wished all night long that I could just sleep on the floor next to the baby because the high, wide hospital bed and baby incubator were way too much for me as I recovered.
My expectations were much lower this time around, but Harry’s birth helped me see that my lousy experience with Jack’s birth was largely due to external factors I couldn’t have controlled, along with the fact that, hey, it’s labor and delivery and a newborn, not a walk in the park.
Ladies, did your birth experiences leave you with some trauma, or — like me — self doubt? Have you discussed it in therapy? What helped you get over it? If you had more children after your first, how did you get the courage to go through the experience again — and how did you prepare?
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My first birth was pretty traumatic. I was induced a week early due to me having a uterine infection. I went in with a severe fever and they said “that baby is coming out tonight one way or another”. After they dialed up my pitocin a few hours later, I was in extreme pain and begging for an epidural that they refused to give me until I had been pumped full of 3 courses of antibiotics. They took my baby to the NICU after birth, so establishing breastfeeding was difficult, and I didn’t actually get full care of my baby until we were being discharged from the hospital, so that was really overwhelming. The doctors didn’t check on me the whole time without my husband asking if someone was going to look at me. The hospital kept forgetting to serve me meals an/or taking them away without me eating because I was down in the NICU visiting and feeding my baby. It was so bad the manager of the cafeteria came to my room and personally apologized. Needless to say, I switched OBs and hospitals after that.
My second was amazing. 10 days late, only 2 hours from waking up in labor to having my baby in my arms, and I was immediately in love. Of course, I love both of my kids, but the 2nd has been so easy compared to the first, it’s like night and day. I’m glad I got the healing and all natural birth that I wanted for my first.
My first birth, I was well-prepared. I had a doula who was also a midwife, a CNM practice ready to deliver, a birth plan, birthing classes, everything well-researched with practically a CBA of each option. I wanted to try for a natural birth, to eat and drink during labor (I was convinced this was why so many women had exhausted themselves during labor), and to birth in whatever position I felt most comfortable in. My mother died when I was young, and my MIL gets squeemish at the sight of a spider, so I knew it was me and DH, and he wouldn’t be much help.
I was Group B strep positive, so when my water broke, we had to head in. I showered, had breakfast, fed the dog, carried my bags to the car for the 45 minute drive to the hospital. We even stopped for a second breakfast at McD’s. At the hospital, everything went to hell. My contractions came quick and fast – about 45 seconds apart. I went from 3cm to 10 in 3 hours. I screamed on the birthing ball, I cried in bed. I begged my husband to find the anesthesiologist who was apparently jogging around the hospital. They gave me IV meds which made me weepy, tired, and crabby but still in horrid pain. I could barely catch my breath. My BP skyrocketed, and the diagnosis of preeclampsia, which had come 2 days before I went into labor, was confirmed. All of my tests were awful, and they started me on mag. Once I hit 10, the midwife-in-training encouraged me to start pushing even though my son was high up. I pushed for four hours (with the epidural, thank God), until they told me to stop, slapped an O2 mask on my face, and my room was filled with doctors in scrubs whispering furiously in the corner. Finally, one of the OBs and my MW came over to say that my son was in distress, I was not progressing, they thought he was stuck, and my BP was so high they were concerned I’d stroke out. Emergency c-section. 2 minutes later I’m stark naked on the OR table, unable to move as people bustled around me like I was a corpse. Finally I was prepped and draped, my husband came in, more drugs and monitors, and my son was born. 45 minutes later I was in post-op nursing him. He had a very short cord, hence the distress.
I wound up accidentally getting discharged a day early (ladies, don’t just say “uh huh” when the intern comes in at 5a). The lactation consultant popped into my room, asked if I’d nursed, and then walked out. After discharge, they had to send a home nurse to my house because of some state law about early discharge. She took my BP and it was 210/160. My son’s weight had dropped precariously low, and he kept falling asleep while nursing. I was shipped off to the ER with a 5 day old baby during flu season. They wanted to readmit me but I begged to go home (why I’ll never know), and so with new meds and strict bedrest, I went home with our son. I tried to pump but couldn’t get enough for him so I’d pump and cry and then break open the formula. MIL was no help as she thought BFing was a waste. Eventually, I begged my docs to let me go to the pediatrician (driven by MIL) to see the LC. In 15 minutes, she fixed the issue (I wasn’t holding him smooshed up to my breast) and he nursed like a champ. She also showed me how to nurse laying down, which was a godsend for my post c-sec pain.
For a long time I wept about my birth – not because it didn’t go to plan, but because I felt so disconnected from my son. He was in me, and then he was handed to me in post-op. I never felt as though he came from my body. Nursing helped with that somewhat.
For my second son, I had a kidney stone at 14 weeks and thought I was miscarrying. I had to take suppositories and anti-nausea drugs prescribed for chemo patients just to keep down water. I was popping percocet even though I was afraid to take tylenol. Finally, when they decided they would have to operate, I passed the stone. Then there was a risk of a chromosomal anomoly that would have resulted in a stillbirth or extremely short life so I had an amnio. Two weeks of freaking out waiting. At 26 weeks I was d/x’d with preeclampsia and put on bedrest – with a toddler and a traveling husband while living at my dad’s because we were restoring our house. I eked it out with the knowledge that my MW and docs wanted to deliver me at 36 weeks. We went in expecting a repeat-c, but they sent us home to wait a few days because baby was awesome while my stats sucked. Three more times, and they decided to schedule me for 38 weeks. The day before I was scheduled, I went into labor. I had asked my OB if I could VBAC if I went into labor on my own, and laughingly he signed off on it.
Son #2 was also high when I was fully dialated (again, a very rapid labor but an early epidural). This time they tried “passive descent” – let him come down on his own, no pushing, and I took a nap. Woke up ready to push and he was right there – 30 min later he was in my arms. I watched and felt him come out of me. It was such a healing birth for me – no BF problems, no mag sulfate, a small spike in BP, but entirely different. Of course, after 11 weeks on bedrest, I went home and cooked dinner for everyone and threw a huge party, jumping right back in to everything…. including PPD.
Each child is so different. Be flexible. Know your stuff – I’m glad I researched things – but be prepared. There is no shame in pain relief especially an epidural. And most of all, don’t blame yourself for a birth gone sideways. It’s entirely out of your control – like parenthood – so get used to it. Get lots of help with breastfeeding. Ban people (evil MIL) who question why you bother when formula is just as good. Hire someone to help at home that first week. And don’t – DON’T – overdo when you get home. Traditional Japanese have women go to bed with the baby for a month while she’s tended to by women in the village. It’s a brilliant concept, one I wish we could do here. Go to bed with the baby and stay there. Sleep. Nurse. Watch CHiPS and Law & Order reruns. Read. Sleep, and make sure your OB or MW gives you a refill on those nice pain meds. My sons are now 9 and 11, and you can bet I will be doing laundry, cleaning house, cooking, and waiting on my DILs when they give birth. Moms need to be mothered. That’s the best advice. Oh, and NEVER check out of the hospital early.
I had a pretty similar experience as you, Kat. Fairly traumatic 1st and wonderful 2nd.
With my first, I had visions of deep breathing and birthing tubs and rainbows. I went to childbirth classes and was planning on doing everything naturally. Then, we got to a week before my due date, and I felt terrible in the middle of my workday, just OFF. I reluctantly went home at the urging of my coworkers. My husband came home that evening to me in our bed shaking, with all the blankets in the house on top of me. He was upset with me that I hadn’t told him how sick I was, but I was still determined to be a calm earth goddess at that point. No interventions! He called my OB, who obviously told me to come in to the hospital immediately.
Once we got to triage and they monitored me for a bit, they decided that the baby was coming out ASAP, and I’d be induced. Once the induction drugs started kicking in, the pain was unbelievable. I was literally crying and screaming for an epidural (movie versions are tame compared to me). I was never so happy as I was when they finally pumped me full of multiple rounds of antibiotics (per the anesthesiologists insistence) and gave me that epidural. I spent 3 days in the hospital with my perfectly healthy baby in the NICU the whole time. Establishing breastfeeding was difficult with the NICU but I did it successfully and (99%) exclusively BF for a year and did nights and weekends until 2.5. And at 3, he still misses his “milkies”.
With my 2nd, it went off without a hitch, other than barely making it to the hospital 6 miles away. I woke up at 12:45 AM and baby was born at 3am. There wasn’t time for an epidural, or anything. They actually didn’t even get a chance to switch the bed out or get an OB in the room. Still got billed for it though! Haha. Little dude was almost 9 pounds, and he’s still a champ.
My labor and delivery with my first son was textbook, perfect. But he came out with massive brain injury and damage. He was whisked to another hospital while I screamed to be discharged to follow him. The number of medical interventions they did without parental consent due to medical emergency (that I learned about later) was astounding. He was given medicine such that he only slept and I was not allowed to try to nurse him until he was more than a week old. We were starring down the possibilities of cerebral palsy, metabolic disorders that would cause him to never leave a normal life, but we got the lucky diagnosis of simple brain damage and a cerebral hematocrit. We brought him home 2 weeks later and spent the next 3 years in occupational, physical, and speech therapy. Our son now at 3 and a half appears to have completely recovered from the trauma he suffered from either contractions or heading through the birth canal. My husband and I spent months discussing whether after that, we could possibly try again.
We did. I had a cesection, and my now six month old son is healthy. But I had panic attacks throughout my second pregnancy. I think we’re done at 2, but after my experience I internally stress on behalf of any friend or coworker having a baby. I also refrain from telling my story to pregnant women. It remains the most traumatic experience of my life.
I had a planned (medically necessary) c-section because my daughter was breech. The c-section itself was remarkably easy, went very smoothly, non traumatic, easy recovery, etc. I never had a vision of an ideal “natural” birth situation, so the idea of getting a c-section wasn’t really upsetting to me at the time. I mean, I knew that if I went into labor the regular way, I’d get an epidural ASAP.
But weirdly, several months after my c-section, I got really upset about it. I was just sad that I never got the chance to show my husband how brave I can be. And weirded out about the fact that I never even got to feel a single contraction or know what it is to push or any of that stuff. To this day, I don’t think I’ve ever said “I gave birth” because I honestly don’t feel like I did give birth. I had a baby, but I feel like the doctor did everything and I just laid there on the operating room table.
Then after about a week of being upset I remembered that if I had lived in any other period of history, we both probably would have died in childbirth. That helped me get a lot of perspective, and now I feel much better about the whole thing. It’s still weird how the disappointment crept up on me, though.
Giving birth is built up as such a huge thing. And I know it is very meaningful for a lot of people. For me, it helps to think about it in the same way as I think about my wedding day– very important, but far less important than my marriage. The day you have your baby is important, but the rest of your child’s life is the important part.
Honestly? After my first birth I wanted no more children. After the second? I went to law school. I am now an advocate for parents and children, especially around pregnancy and childbirth, and am a founding member of the Birth Rights Bar Association ( http://birthrightsbar.org ) which works to support attorneys who work with families and providers, promoting the rights of physical liberty, bodily integrity, due process of law, equal protection, and informed consent, for example.
My first birth experience is both a bit traumatic and a bit encouraging.
I developed preeclampsia and was admitted to the ante-partum ward at 31 weeks. I tried working remotely, and now 18 months later, I think I should have stopped upon admittance… the additional stress of trying to go conference calls and prepare work product while on best rest with constant BP and baby monitoring was not a great combination. But, my nurses and my doctors (OB and MFM) were great. Until Friday – the tech recorded my weight wrong (I gained 3+ pounds over night, a sure sign that the preeclampsia worsened, but it was recorded as me losing a pound…) I believe if that had been caught, we might have changed the emergency C-section I needed that night.
So, long story short, at nightly rounds, my BP was high and would not come down. And then they checked my protein output and it was off the charts. Upon hearing this, my BP skyrockets. Long story short, at 1 hour and 45 minutes into week 32, I delivered a healthy, crying, almost 4 pound baby. Despite APGAR scores of 7 and 9, she was taken to the NICU.
I remained in L&D for another 24 hours while they got my blood pressure under control (rather than transferring me to the ICU). A lactation consultant came in first thing in the morning with a pump and all the supplies and told my husband and I what we needed to do, every three hours. I was loopy on meds, but she and her colleagues came by every 3 hours to help with the pumping. The nurses were fabulous about making sure my family didn’t overwhelm me, and reporting on my baby’s status. Once they got the BP under control, I was wheeled, bed and all, to my baby’s bedside in the NICU.
I stayed in the hospital another 3 days, and did have to be readmitted a week later overnight for BP issues since I dropped the water weight so fast that it messed with meds.
Kiddo #1 stayed in the NICU 32 days, growing and feeding. Up until her first birthday, I felt so guilty about not being able to keep her in longer, and depressed that I didn’t get to labor at all. Now, its like a fog has lifted and I remember the silly things about the whole experience, like my OB singing country music while closing me up.
I will delivering our 2nd kiddo in a few weeks, most likely through scheduled C-section, and this baby has s severe heart defect which will, once again, necessitate swift relocation to the NICU, followed by open heart surgery within a week.
To any new moms, I’m sure there will be both good and bad. I would highly encourage you to have someone with you that can and will speak up. And make use of the whiteboard in your room. Whatever your top three-five priorities are, write them down on that white board and refer everyone to it who walks in the room. Not fool proof, but heplful
I am sitting here 7 weeks postpartum and have to say that I appreciate reading these stories knowing that it is not uncommon to have the opposite of a “Princess Kate” birth. I had a completely healthy pregnancy and was not prepared (had never even crossed my mind) for my baby to need a NICU stay after aspirating meconium. I am quite confident this set us up for difficulty breastfeeding and we had to start supplementing after she did not regain her birth weight at 4 weeks. I had a hard time with this.
I was discharged after 24 hours (routine in Canada after a v*****l delivery ) but my baby remained a patient. We happily were able to stay in the same hospital room. But with all that was going on with the baby I didn’t realize that I had severely injured my tailbone (I think fractured) during delivery, apparently not uncommon with larger babies (mine was almost 9.5 pounds). It wasn’t until after my discharge that I could differentiate the pain. At that point the nurses told me there was nothing they could do because I had been discharged as a patient, and that I could go down to the ER if I wanted some meds. Thankfully a nurse took pity on me eventually and when she saw my Ob flagged him down to come to my room.
My child was born just about 5 months ago at 33 weeks (and is home and thriving now). I had an emergency c-section under general anesthesia and my daughter then spent 5 weeks in the hospital. The care I received was fine – the care she received was generally excellent. But I think the lack of knowledge on the generally delivery floors about how to treat NICU moms (i.e. stop trying to teach me how to bathe a child I can’t hold yet and stop sending a photographer in asking when we can take going home pictures) was pretty traumatic. I was just learning how to navigate the NICU, how to advocate for my child, and healing from a pretty traumatic procedure. It would have gone a long way if I didn’t constantly have to explain to nurses, orderlies, and every passerby that my daughter was quite sick and that no I hadn’t tried to breastfeed yet because she was still on a ventilator.
My labor and delivery went okay, but I am still traumatized from my 3 day old being readmitted for jaundice. We only spent about 15 hours back in the hospital, but it was awful. I was in really rough shape from delivery (broken tailbone, terrible swelling, heavy bleeding, episotimy) and there were no accommodations for me as a nursing mother because I was not the patient. They told me that I wouldn’t have been discharged and would have retained a hospital bed if they had caught the jaundice before we were discharged. But because she was readmitted, they didn’t have to accommodate me whatsoever. I had to share a single public bathroom with the whole L&D floor, only had a wooden chair to use (with my broken tailbone), and it was a holiday weekend so there was no food available onsite. We weren’t expecting to be admitted so when I ran out of pads, they just shrugged. I had to make due with toilet paper until my husband could get to the pharmacy and back. No help or compassion from the nurses. We couldn’t stay with the baby and when they ran out of room in the NICU waiting room, husbands were told at 3 AM to go wait in their cars in the 90+ degree heat.
Oh, and to top it all off, a terrible, terrible NICU doctor told me that my baby was jaundiced because I was starving my baby by breastfeeding. She was horrible and, in retrospect, completely wrong. My milk was in. My baby was just horribly bruised from the vacuum delivery.
My labor and delivery went okay, but I am still traumatized from my 3 day old being readmitted for jaundice. We only spent about 15 hours back in the hospital, but it was awful. I was in really rough shape from delivery (broken tailbone, terrible swelling, heavy bleeding, episotimy) and there were no accommodations for me as a nursing mother because I was not the patient. They told me that I wouldn’t have been discharged and would have retained a hospital bed if they had caught the jaundice before we were discharged. But because she was readmitted, they didn’t have to accommodate me whatsoever. I had to share a single public bathroom with the whole L&D floor, only had a wooden chair to use (with my broken tailbone), and it was a holiday weekend so there was no food available onsite. We weren’t expecting to be admitted so when I ran out of pads, they just shrugged. I had to make due with toilet paper until my husband could get to the pharmacy and back. No help or compassion from the nurses. We couldn’t stay with the baby and when they ran out of room in the NICU waiting room, husbands were told at 3 AM to go wait in their cars in the 90+ degree heat.
Oh, and to top it all off, a terrible, terrible NICU doctor told me that my baby was jaundiced because I was starving my baby by breastfeeding. She was horrible and, in retrospect, completely wrong. My milk was in. My baby was just horribly bruised from the vacuum delivery.
DD’s birth was stressful, and left me second guessing a lot of things. I was in labor for 5 days, was eventually induced, pushed for hours, really thought it would never end, then hemorrhaged and needed clots removed. I didn’t really comprehend what was happening, and blamed myself for a long time. I felt like I should have known or done more, when in reality, I did all I could and I was lucky to have a great medical staff.
DD was sent to the nursery, while I stayed in L&D, which caused some confusion. When the nurse brought her back to me, still in L&D, with a bottle of formula, I immediately had so much guilt about not BFing her. It was months later that I realize that a) I was in no physical condition to do so and b) it had been almost 12 hours since she was born, of course she needed to eat something.
The stress this all put on DH was a big thing too. As he describes it, he’s holding this newborn, has no idea what he’s doing, while I’m lying in a hospital bed and doctors and nurses are coming in from all parts of the hospital to attempt to get an IV in me for a blood transfusion, not knowing if I’d be ok. It took him some time to come to terms with that.
I had some ok nurses, but one fantastic one who stayed past her shift end to see me through the delivery, and then stayed for all that followed. She came in the next day to check on me, and made the whole experience manageable for me. I really think she is a big part of the reason that I was able to come to terms with some of what happened.
As we think about trying for another, DH and I have talked a lot about the whole experience, which has helped us both. It was also reassuring to talk to one of the midwives in our practice who was open and honest about the possibility of a repeat (relatively high, but not so high that they’d not recommend a pregnancy) and how they’d handle preparing for that possibility.
My birth experience was relatively smooth- 19 hr total, natural labor/no drugs or interventions, lots of postpartum blood loss but nothing necessitating a longer hospital stay. The hospital was pretty good and nurses were helpful, especially with breastfeeding (plug for Shady Grove in Rockville for DC-area folks). Kid came out with arm over his head and caused labial tearing requiring stitches. But 12 weeks later, I’m all healed up except for some lingering hemmorhoids that just will not leave me the f*** alone. Despite being lucky overall, it was still a pretty traumatizing experience. My body will never be the same. I was most unprepared for the hormonal wackiness of the first week. The morning we left the hospital, I sobbed uncontrollably for 20 min for basically no reason (but also so many reasons) while my husband looked on bewildered. The LC came in to see me before we left and advised me that this was totally normal and a good sign my milk was coming in. But it was still a far cry from what I expected, having just weeks earlier seen photos of Duchess Kate leave the hospital in a pretty dress hours after giving birth. I left wearing an adult diaper and sweatpants, trying not to cry.
Given all that, I have so much sympathy for women who have more complicated births.
Cat – I really appreciate these stories and think it’s incredibly valuable to share these experiences. Reading them, though, it’s a bit overwhelming (if I didn’t already have a kid, this thread might be enough to put me off it forever!). Could we do another thread at some point about things that went well or lessons learned or something along those lines? I get that the whole point of this post is to be able to discuss the hard parts, so I hope we can do another one to catch the good parts, too.
I have been angry about my experience giving birth too, but I’ve been struggling with why – I had great nursing and doctor care (a nurse and my doula stayed by my side the entire labor, and my doctor was there for the entire 3+ hours of pushing), the hospital was comfortable, there were LC’s and a few angel nurses who taught me so much about nursing and baby management. I did end up pushing for an hour and a half on a surgical table in the OR with the doctor suggesting that an emergency C section might be imminent, and my kiddo was whisked off to the NICU for an hour while I got stitched up, so there was some sense of fear and crisis to all of it.
I think for me, the biggest trauma was having my soon-to-be-ex husband in the delivery room while I was going through this very intense, intimate, vulnerable experience. It felt like an intrusion or a violation. I still find myself embarrassed around him when I think about it. And while I’d love to experience a healing second birth, I think it’s unlikely given my age and current status as a single working mom.