I didn’t get the birth that I wanted with the Terrorist. I had a boorish, bully of a doctor that put the fear of God into me so that I conformed to his way if doing things. I was told, obviously this was only done on occasions where my husband could not be present for the appointments, that I would be a 27 year old stuck in adult nappies for the rest of my life if I wanted to go ahead with a natural birth like my “birth-plan” stated. I was told that I am to small, that a bladder operation from 22 years ago would be undone and I may end up pushing my bladder out along with the baby etc. etc.
I was naive enough to believe him, when I went into labour before he could do the planned c-section I was pushed into a theathre so fast my head was still realing by the time they gave me an epidural and I felt like aliens had invaded my body. I had a severe freak out in the theatre and wanted to get up off the table with all my might, so that the husband had to press me back down. I had no time to process. It was like my body was possessed. I had no say. It. was.terrifying.
Something that was supposed to be natural and joyfull turned into a painfull ordeal. I was resentfull. Who am I kidding, I still am. Even now, when I find out a friend/acquintance/stranger is one of his patients, I advise them to run as far as their little feet can carry them in the opposite direction. I see red because it is an every day occurance that patients are bullied and duped by their doctors into doing what they, the doctors, want.
I am absolutely determined that this time around will not be the same. I am doing my homework. I am doing the research. I am making sure that I have the best caregivers, not only on the medical side but also emotionally, and to that end I am enlisting the help of a doula. I have yet to get this okayed by the husband, but knowing me, I think it is vital. I am very nervous, about everything. The husband always jokes that I am a warrior..not the Xena kind, more like Stressed Eric (perhaps without the bulding arterie).
I have found a wonderful doctor that says that there is absolutely no reason for me not to be able to give birth naturally this time around. He even gave it a fancy acroymn. VBAC. My first appointment was like a breath of fresh air. For once, I was not treated like an ignorant naughty school girl that managed to get pregnant, but rather like a grown up that should have some say in how this pregnancy plays out. It really is a great relief.
Even so, I cannot help but get these fleeting moments of wanting to run into the hills screaming “What the feck where we thinking?”
I realise that this is what I/we wanted, we tried for seven months. (in comparison to others, that is like 2 seconds but to me it seemed like forever. Not that I am complaining, the process was not completely awful).
I am not feeling at all like I thought I would, this time around. I want to be happy, glowing, floating of fairy dust, farting rainbows that kind of thing. Instead I am one anxious knot with neck spasms that is likely to go postal at the slightest provocation.
Maybe my fairy dust is buried under a pile of determination? Right will get them out as soon as I have been able to move again and finished my research on how to fart rainbows…