When the doctor would check in on how far along I was in labor, my nurse-midwife would give her report and say "it's not time yet but she’s getting there." Not once did she tell the doctor it might be time to increase the Pitocin or consider a c-section. I can honestly say that having a nurse-midwife was the best thing that could have happened to me. She and the nurse never told me my daughter was turned, or that I couldn’t do it. So every round of pushing that ended without a crying baby exiting my body left me doubting my abilities. She knew that the last time around my daughter refused to turn and would not budge, which is why I believed I was not able to deliver her naturally. She offered that dose of support whenever I started to question myself. My nurse-midwife checked in on me several times throughout her swift and really took the time to reassure me that I could do it. I felt likeI had just won a contest or something. Those sweet nurses congratulated me for going for it. “She’s going for a VBAC,” she told her nurses as they prepared a room for me. That wonderful woman not only helped calm my anxiety-racked mind about all the things that could go wrong this time around but she also gave me the confidence boost to try a VBAC. So now I had a male medical student staring into my vagina with a nurse, my midwife and the doctor. The nurse-midwife on call that day reassured me that this time would be different - then she said I was a perfect candidate for a a vaginal birth after caesarian section, or a VBAC, instead of a c-section. This time around I was very vocal upon check-in that my last birthing experience was somewhat traumatic (emergency c-section, faulty epidural, unsympathetic nurse, the use of forceps) on so many levels so I was nervous going into this second one. But I was too scared to speak up.ĭelivering my second daughter was a completely different experience because I was lucky enough to have a nurse-midwife with me during my delivery. I regret not speaking up more during labor and allowing the medical team to make decisions that I wasn’t completely on board with, like having an emergency c-section. Thank god my husband stood up for me during labor.
#Mother load firework how to#
I was intimidated and didn’t know how to speak up for myself. Unlike my first nurse, who took her time to explain what was happening to the baby, or would reassure me that everyone craps themselves during labor, the second nurse talked down to me and would sigh loudly when I would complain about being uncomfortable. When she left I was stuck with a nurse who was either having an off day or lacked a bedside manner.
Luckily, my first nurse was very sweet and patient, but her shift ended during my never-ending labor. As an introvert, being the center of attention is our worst nightmare. My first go-around at childbirth was overwhelming and nightmarish. Labor as an introvert is kind of a nightmare, which is why we need midwifes and doulas in the delivery room more than extroverts.
Although I knew that the nurses assisting me had most likely seen so many bare breasts, butts, and vaginas that they could care less how mine looked, that didn’t quell the feelings of embarrassment building up inside me when I realized she would be accompanying me to the restroom.
I have to admit that I was extremely self-conscious when I went into active labor with my first daughter.
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