FISCHER DALE JOHNSON
Born: March 7, 1993
4:32 PM
Santa Teresa Kaiser Hospital, California
Statistics: 9 lbs, 1 3/4 oz
22 inches
At the age of seventeen, I was THRILLED to learn that I was pregnant with a planned pregnancy. (Yes, you read that right, PLANNED.) Fischer's father and I faced a lot of criticism and problems along the way, but nothing compared to how rudely I was treated at the hospital. Here's our story...
I was a senior in high school, and decided to do independent studies which would allow me to graduate with the rest of my class, and still work full time . In fact, I was finished with my studies in January, two months before Fischer was due. I had a very healthy pregnancy--gained exactly 33 pounds, avoided caffine and exercised (walked) regularly. We decided that we did not want to know the sex of our baby, and as it turned out Fischer was not in the correct position to be able to determine the sex. Tim and I attended an infant care class, and a labor training class. I read all the books I could, and educated myself as much as possible in preparation for the big day.
As my due date of March 1st approached, and doctor visits increased, so did our anxiousness. I was 1 cm dialated about March 2nd. I remember Dr. Jones INSTRUCTING us to make love, hoping it would help induce labor. I absolutely LOVED being pregnant, and was nervous--not for just the delivery, but for the great responsibility of a new baby. On Saturday, March 6th, as Tim was getting ready to go to work at 1pm, I mentioned that I was having some cramping, and "don't be surprised if I call you home from work today". I went to the library that day, stopping at garage sales along the way, and later, went to dinner with Tim's parents, sister and nephew. During the day I was recognizing some pretty regular contractions. After dinner we all went for a walk, and also informed them "don't be surprised if we call you in the middle of the night tonight".
I stopped by Tim's work around 10pm that night. By this time, contractions were becoming more regular, and it was more difficult to hide my discomfort. When he got home shortly after 10:30, we tried to watch "Beauty and the Beast", but I could hardly focus my attention on the movie...I knew that this was IT. We went to bed, and I tried to get some rest. I knew I was going to need it. At 2am, I woke up and started actually timing the contractions.
They were about 5-6 minutes apart and lasting about 30-45 seconds. I laid in bed, falling asleep between contractions. At 4am, I got up and forced myself to eat. I was too anxious, but I knew at the hospital they weren't going to let me eat. At 6am I took a walk. I din't bother to wake Tim, he was going to need his rest too. I called the hospital when I got home from my walk. I was ASKING to come in, but they wanted my contractions to be closer together (or I could come right away if the water broke). They were about 3-5 minutes apart. We just sat around, calling family and friends letting them know it would be real soon. Another call to the hospital at 9am. I just wanted to be at the hospital, reassured everything was going ok. They still wanted me to wait til contractions were 2-3 minutes apart.
At 10:30am, as I felt another contraction coming on, I called Tim into the bedroom to help ease my discomfort. Right in the middle of the contraction, my water broke. I noticed some meconium, but I told myself that everything was going to be ok. I took a quick shower, and put a call into the L&D room, letting them know we were on our way.
11:30am, we arrive at the hospital. This is when things turned bad. The CNM that would be delivering introduced herself to us. Granted, we were not married, and I was 17, but this woman acted as though I was a child, and knew nothing about what was happening to my body. I fully understood WHY I felt pain and WHY it was uncomfortable and was fully prepared to do whatever I had to do to deliver a heathy baby.
Right away I was hooked to an external fetal moniter. I was not allowed to walk freely, or go to the bathroom. When they finally left the room, I would unhook it, and walk anyway. The internal exam revealed I was almost 3 cm. I didn't go into the hospital saying "I will not have drugs", but I did want to avoid them if possible. I wanted to be alert, and my baby to be alert when he finally did arrive. At 4 cm I was told if I wanted anything, I would need to tell them then. I asked how much harder it was going to get, and they said the contractions probably wouldn't increase in intensity too much, but would increase in frequency. I declined the drugs.
At 2:30, I felt the urge to have a bowel movement. Between contractions, I was able to go. (I look back on this and recognize that this was my body giving me a NATURAL enema.) Once back in bed, I told the nurse and Tim "I have to go again" but the nurse wanted to check how dialated I was then. I was 9 cm and told I could start pushing. That second urge to have a BM was actually an urge to start pushing! We tried a variety of positions. I liked being on my hands and knees, and that seemed to be working. After an hour and a half with not much progress however, the nurse informed us that I would have to be transferred to the delivery room. This disturbed me because I didn't see much need to do it. Frankly, if they would have just let me alone, I could have done better myself.
In the delivery room, the CNM made me feel terrible by telling me "well, your baby WAS coming out, but went back in because you weren't cooperating during the contractions." NO! YOU ARE NOT COOPERATING WITH ME I wanted to tell her. I was forced to stay on my back, feet in stirrups, with three people holding my legs while I PUSHED AND PUSHED AND PUSHED. It was finally when she told me to reach down and touch my baby's soft, squishy head, that I tried my hardest to get him out. I wanted to see him so deparately. At 4:32 in the afternoon, we heard the customary "you have a baby boy!" (This too was a shock...even though we didn't know the sex of our baby from the ultrasound, we still thought it was a girl) Tim cut the umbilical cord, and they were GONE. Just like that. After a GLANCE at my baby, he was gone. Tim went with him to the nursery, but I was left alone with that bitch of a nurse to stitch up a small tear. This is the real kicker of the story though. While she's stitching me up, she asks "Do you think we were mean to you when you got here?" Um.....YES!! I was told that it is just policy that minors under the age of 18....blah blah blah....I didn't listen to the rest. I knew when she was done, I would never have to see her again.
As I was wheeled into the recovery room, the nurses at the nurses station were eating chinese food. I was STARVING. I was told since I was "lucky enough" to have delivered just before dinner, I would "probably" be able to eat dinner. I did get to eat, but for THREE HOURS I was not able to see my son. I was told, when I called down to the nursery that his body temperature was too low. I was furious. I told them I was going to see him, even if I had to walk down there myself. Of course, after trying to get up I realized this would be near impossible, I was so weak and sore. And what a bunch of CRAP his temperature being too low. Bring him to ME and I will keep him warm. His mother, not a goddamned light bulb. I came to find out later that he was given sugar water, or water, or whatever the hell it was, in a bottle. I was planning on breastfeeding, and was terrified that this might have set me back. FINALLY at 7:30, I heard the squeaky wheel of the bassinet headed down the hall. They brought Fischer into my room, and I was FINALLY re-united with my son.
Fischer breastfed for 15 months, and I will never ever forget that experience. Even with all the criticism of family and friends, our relationship, and his health has benefitted from it. At four years old he is a happy, healthy and curious little boy. (And never had an ear infection!)
Me? Well, I'm currently going to college. I plan to be a direct-entry midwife. Birth is a NATURAL EXPERIENCE. It is not an illness or medical condition. It is interesting to me that several months after delivering Fischer I met a woman who had the same CNM deliver her baby. Her first words after realizing this was "Wasn't she RUDE?" I hope that no matter what happens in their pregnancies, women are treated with respect and realize that they DO have options. I can guarantee you this: My next baby will be born at home.
