Jaded

I was sent a funny email this morning, and it's not too often that I am sent something that I haven't read before, so this was a surprise to me.

The Gynecologist who became a Mechanic:

A gynecologist had become fed up with malpractice insurance and HMO paperwork, and was burned out. Hoping to try another career where skillful hands would be beneficial, he decided to become a mechanic. He went to the local technical college, signed up for evening classes, attended diligently, and learned all he could.


When the time of the practical exam approached, the gynecologist prepared carefully for weeks, and completed the exam with tremendous skill. When the results came back, he was surprised to find that he had obtained a score of 150%. Fearing an error, he called the Instructor, saying, "I don't want to appear ungrateful for such an outstanding result, but I wonder if there is an error in the grade?"


"The instructor said, "During the exam, you took the engine apart perfectly, which was worth 50% of the total mark. You put the engine back together again perfectly, which is also worth 50% of the mark." After a pause, the instructor added, "I gave you an extra 50% because you did it all through the muffler, which I've never seen done in my entire career".

As I was reading this little story I expected a severely different outcome. Which is often what happens when I walk into a birthing situation. I've had a hard time going into hospital deliveries without looking for a fight. While reading this story I expected something to the effect of "You failed my class because you approached each repair with a circular saw, which you used to to cut through the hood in order to open it up and repair the engine."

I realized how jaded I've become.

The first birth I attended was the birth of my brother when I was 15. Not knowing what to expect, I read up some prior to the experience. I'd heard horror stories, I'd read horror stories...but it seemed to go well. The doctor was kind, although MIA most of the time. The nurses seemed fine, but they weren't around much. I think that the experience was a really great bonding experience for my mother and I. Although some of it was spent plotting the demise of my stepfather...some men really should be kept in the waiting room handing out cigars.

The birth of my sister came a few years later, and I attended her birth as well. I was pregnant with my own child by then, and had read a lot more information. My mother's labor started out much in the same fashion, with much of the same results. Towards the end though, I was surprised to see an added element of pressure and slight panic. Many more things were introduced during this birth.

Do you know why?

Night and day.

The staff wanted my sister born before the "end of business" that day.

My own delivery with my son started much the same as the end of my sisters birth. My water broke early in the morning, and without contractions they wanted to start right up with Pitocin. As the clock ticked, and I repeatedly said no to interventions, you could feel the tension increase.

My son was born at 8:10 p.m. less than seven hours from the time I agreed to Pitocin, and fourteen hours from the time my water had broken.

Those three births molded my attitude about modern day obstetrics. I took those experiences, and commited them to memory. I took the comments and remarks from staff and commited those to memory as well.

Each birth that I have attended since then, has been compared to those first three. Many actions and attitudes have been dictated by events that took place during those first three labors, and those first three births.

The fourth birth I "attended" was actually another one of my own. Based on the experience of my son's birth, coupled with the high c-section rates in Memphis, I chose a homebirth. It was quick and without incident. I delivered standing up in the doorway of my master bathroom.

A year after my homebirth, I assisted with the homebirth of my youngest brother. When my mother stood in front of me with frustration and pain in her eyes I told her to put her arms around my neck and hang on to me. I held my mother as she went through transition, and would have continued holding her until she delivered my brother. (or she bit me, which she informed me later that she had had a strong urge to do) The midwife insisted that she lay down, which actually caused my mother great distress.

I committed to memory to do what mom feels is best, and not what is best for me.

When my brother crowned and it was discovered that the cord was wrapped around his neck three times, I witnessed the midwife instruct my mother to stop pushing, while she calmly unlooped the cord from around his neck. Later I discovered that my mother had no idea it had even happened.

I committed to memory to remain calm, and attend to problems as they come.

When I assisted a neighbor in her delivery and she told me she felt like pushing, I called a nurse. The nurse came in and checked mom, and proceeded to declare her a "7", and told me "she isn't ready" and she left the room. Based on a prior experience with my mother, where the nurse no sooner started to removed her glove after declaing my mother a "7", my mother bore down and said "I need to push" and the nurse looked at me and rolled her eyes. After donning a new glove and checking my mother again, it was discovered that she was fully dilated and ready to start pushing. Within seconds my mother was ready to deliver her baby.

Based on this, when my neighbor told me she was ready, I believed her. When she bore down with all the strength she had, I believed her still. Although seconds had elapsed since the nurse had left the room, I sent dad out to get her again. Dad returned to inform me that the nurse told him that mom wasn't "ready".

Come again?

I supported mom because I believed her. When her husband told me "she isn't ready" I moved her gown aside and showed him the head of his then crowning child. (Actually I pointed and said "That's a baby")The baby was delivered onto the bed with only her parents and myself as witnesses to her entry into the world.

I noted the time.

Later, I listened to the doctor berate the nurse, but not for the reason you might expect. The doctor was angry that the nurse had "allowed" mom to deliver before she (the doctor) had arrived.

Now, I think that there is a proper place for Obstetricians. They provide a service to high risk women in numerous categories and they do have their place in birth.

Just not every birth.

Birth is not an illness or a disease. In the majority of cases things will proceed as they should. Having a midwife there allows for safety in the treatment and prevention of certain issues that can, and do, arise in labor and the subesquent delivery. Having a doula is what I consider a back-up plan. My doula joined me in my labor before my midwife, and I was glad to have her there when my daughter decided to fly into the world two hours and forty minutes after labor began...but before my midwife arrived.

Over the years I've been able to join and assist other women during the births. I've taken each experience with me, and tweaked my attitude. I've been able to see how things went from normal, to horribly wrong and I've been able to look back and pinpoint how and where the horribly wrong came in.

I haven't attended any births since my doula training, but the training gave me a better understanding of the role that I get to play as a doula. I learned that there are things that I did that were right, and things that aren't acceptable by a doula serving in a professional capacity. I was most surprised that many of the measures they teach in training, were things I had done instinctively anyway. I was happy that there were very few instances where I behaved in a manner unbecoming for a doula.

I can't wait to add to my experiences.

Each and every birth is an honor to witness.

I am jaded....in a good way too.