dys·func·tion /dɪsˈfʌŋkʃən/ [dis-fuhngk-shuhn]–noun
1. Medicine/Medical . malfunctioning, as of an organ or structure of the body. 2. any malfunctioning part or element: the dysfunctions of the country's economy. 3. Sociology . a consequence of a social practice or behavior pattern that undermines the stability of a social system.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

It's Peanut Butter Baby Time

For my 30th post, I decided to write about my vagina!

Because everyone wants to read about my vagina.
And see pictures of my children.


WARNING!
The following post is kind of graphic! It involves childbirth.
You have been warned.


I was very recently pregnant with my second daughter. After this news, 'surprise-your-birth-control-failed', I was referred to an OBGYN who was to follow me through my pregnancy.

I had an OBGYN with my first daughter, 'if-you-want-kids-it's-now-or-never', and he/she was a total douchebag. Every time I asked a question about my first pregnancy he would walk out of the room while answering:
"It's a pregnancy thing."

So, needless to say, I was not looking forward to another experience similar to the first (not blaming ALL OBGYNs, but with my luck...) and so, when an opportunity opened to get on board with a new midwife practice, I was alllllll over it.

I have heard so many good stories about midwives. So many recommendations, positive experiences, and happy memories, I thought this is for me!

This particular practice had two midwives, A and D. A was very nice to me, she liked to listen, tried to treat me as a person with opinions and such, but A was spineless. And she only knew what she had read from the book.

D...D was a total b****. For some reason she really didn't like me. I'm taking a lot of biology classes for college right now, and this is my second baby (plus I really love everything about pregnancy and babies and such) so I have a small knowledge base to draw from. So it pissed her off  when I already knew something and she didn't get to part the clouds and show me a glimpse of heaven. Pissed her off to the point that she would lie to me about events in my pregnancy...or events causing my pregnancy...or tests that were supposed to be mandatory...

So I dealt with it. I ignored her stupidity for most of the pregnancy. I fought for the tests I knew were mandatory for me to get. I prompted for things I wanted...like a birth plan....and I said OVER AND OVER that I wanted to wait until I couldn't handle the pain anymore, and then I WANT AN EPIDURAL.

I had to sign the consent form for the anaesthesiologist prior to going in to labour.


They fought me on what day my due date was.

I have a 28 day cycle. Which means I ovulate on the 14th day....pretty much guaranteed.


Day you ovulate = day you can get pregnant.


My pharmacy happened to screw up my birth control, and I was using another less effective form....well Bob's your uncle andddddddddddddddd

Tah Dah!

But nooooooo, D argued with me for my entire pregnancy because she believed that my due date was 7 days later than it was. The ultrasound showed the fetus to be about 7 days smaller than she should have been at the time.

I smoked LIKE A CHIMNEY for the first six weeks of my pregnancy because I didn't know I was pregnant.


Smoking while pregnant = smaller babies


But D was always right or something, and she was quite insistent. So I ignored her in an attempt to maintain my sanity. It became suddenly important as my due date approached and #2 was still high up and safely snuggled in my womb.

GET OUT.

Now medically, if a baby stays in your womb for too long, it will just continue to gain weight which will make a natural vaginal birth more difficult and lowers the chances of the survival of mother and child. Also, after a certain period of time, your body believes that there must be something wrong and stops providing nourishment to your baby. This is why there is a practice in Ontario to induce a mother between 41 and 42 weeks.

Now selfishly, #2's due date was 19 days before #1's birthday....and I wanted them to be as far apart as possible so they could each have their own special time as they got older.

I watched the days tick by and the gap start to close and I got paranoid.
19 days apart...
18 days apart...
17 days apart...
16 days apart...

And I talked to A about it. She said that the earliest they would be able to medically induce me would be at 41 weeks - 7 days after their due date.

THEIR DUE DATE, which remember, is 7 days after mine. At that imaginary time, my baby would be two weeks past her due date and at risk for a lot of medical problems, and my induction date would only be 5 days prior to #1's birthday, which would make the estimated delivery date 4 days prior!

No dice.

15 days apart...
14 days apart...

And I couldn't take it anymore. I went out and purchased some castor oil. It's a natural laxative, and the theory behind it is that it causes contractions in your abdomin (for purposes of poop expulsion) which gets baby stuff started.

By 2am I couldn't sit through my contractions anymore. I had to walk through them because my body was too antsy. So I called my midwife's 'beeper' and left a voicemail. D returned my call 10 minutes later, asked me a few questions, and decided to come down and check me out.

D showed up around 2:30, checked out my stomach, cervix, blood pressure, and asked a few more questions. Then she gave me this golden tidbit of information:

"It could be early labour, but it will probably go away. Try not to call until they're strong and regular."

She left. I cried.

I tried to sleep on the couch so Boyfriend could get some sleep in the bed. (He was working night shift at the time and had gotten off work at 7am the day of castor oil ingestion, then stayed up all day to force his body back to a normal schedule....poor SOB) I dozed off maybe once for a minute or two and then was forced awake by a contraction that I couldn't even stay quiet through.

After three of these nasty SOBs in a row I woke Boyfriend up.

4:30am.

I called the beeper again and left a message that was along the lines of:

"I'm going to the hospital now because they are going to give me something for the pain.  So I don't know if you needed to do anything before I showed up, but now you know."

We got to the hospital at 5am, and couldn't find the magical hidden baby entrance. We gave up and went through the emergency entrance. Boyfriend made me laugh. Then we checked in.

D was there. She wouldn't look at me, one-worded Boyfriend's attempts at conversations, and treated me like I was wasting her time.

I got my own room, (Yay!) and then was effectively incapacitated before I was told that there was no cell reception and no phones in the room.

O_o

So Boyfriend had to leave to call a few people for me.

8 am - Longggggggggg gory story short: D broke my waters, forbid me to leave the bed, SCREWED ME OUT OF MY EPIDURAL (I almost kicked this b**** in the throat), was disgustingly rude to Boyfriend, broke my baby's collar bone and then tried to pretend it didn't happen, and then had the nerve to hug me and ask if I would be back for my next baby after it all.

Not a f$%*ing hope in hell you crazy b****.



The only perk? I was out of the hospital and in the car less than three hours after having her.


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