Nov. 17th, 2005

piccadillywhore: (Default)
My first daughter was born six days before her due date, due to my elective induction. My doctor was going to be out of town during the weeks following my due date, and I was tired of being pregnant. It was a selfish decision. And though it was mainly my fault, I also fault my doctor for not educating me regarding the effects of an induction on a baby (and on its mother.)

After being hooked up to pitocen for 17 hours and having two epidurals, my daughter was born at 1:22am. Her cord was wrapped around her neck, and the hospital staff acted as though she was going to die. I just remember her cord being cut and watching her being rushed to the other side of the room to receive oxygen. Apparently my doctor wasn't skilled enough, or never thought to slip the cord over her head.

When my daughter was handed to me, I looked her over, and then told the nurse that I wanted to feed her. I put my daughter in the cradle hold, and the nurse was trying to teach me how to get a latch. It wasn't working. The nurse then forcefully took my daughter and made me put her in the football hold, which was completely uncomfortable, and again, not working. I had no idea that the epidural had made my daughter sleepy and groggy. I just thought that I was doing something wrong.

My daughter had made it clear that she wasn't going nurse. The staff took my daughter from us, and moved me into another room. My ex and friend who had helped me deliver went back to our apartment, as the hospital was so full that there were no cots available. They told me that I could have my daughter back at 6:30am, and that I should get some sleep. I have no idea why I didn't tell them that I wanted my daughter with me; I figured that what they were doing was procedure and let her go with them.

I hardly slept. I was just waiting for it to be 6:30 so I could have my daughter back to feed her. I kept worrying that she was hungry, and that I could do nothing about it.

Six-thirty came and went. I called more than once, asking that my daughter be brought to me, as promised. Nothing. Finally, I got out of bed, and walked down the hall and asked the nurses to bring me my daughter. I was so angry and so worried.

It was after 8:00am when my daughter was brought to me. We were finally left alone, and I was finally able to feed her. I put her into the cradle hold, and got her to latch without any outside help (and it was actually a correct latch too!) And she ate. And ate and ate. And I couldn't stop staring at her. I remember just being so happy knowing that I was going to be the one who sustained her and made her grow.


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April 2009

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