I have so many lingering questions about Moo’s birth. In fact, they’re much more than lingering, they’re all consuming at times. They eat away at me, scarring my memories. I wanted things to be so different. I wanted the experience to be empowering, moving, I wanted it to touch my soul.
When I think of the time I spent labouring at home, I feel those things. I was strong, in control and focused. I stayed at home as long as I felt comfortable. The pain was intense and I paced the upstairs of the house. I struggled in the car, with no idea how close to the pushing stage I was.
I arrived at the hospital and gave my urine sample. From there it goes down hill, fast.
I want to know why I had to be monitored constantly? Why did no one read my birth plan? Why could I only push for two hours? Why wasn’t I encouraged to stay mobile and let gravity help? What was in the drips? Why was I put in stirrups, adopting the most ridiculous position to give birth in?
Was Moo in danger at any time? Why did I tear so severely, even after an episiotomy? Why was I injected with that placenta delivery stuff when I’d requested not to be? Why did I hemorrhage? Why was my husband left on his own with Moo? How long was I in theatre? Was I put under because if the tearing or the blood loss? Why could I hear you arguing about how to treat me?
I feel so let down. I’ll most likely never know the answers to these questions or the many others I have, the biggest one being ‘why me?’