Mable's Baby Story

So, here's a little birth story. It happened three years ago and I still have little panic episodes. Warning: for those of you who may be pregnant, this is probably one of those stories you don't need to hear.Let me start by stating the fault lies with many people, including me. I look back and see things I could have/should have done differently, but the fact of abandonment by my medical team is undeniable.I was due with my 4th baby. I love babies. I love being pregnant, I have honestly enjoyed labor and delivery drug-free each birth No, I'm not a pioneer woman or earth muffin. I always told my husband and doctors/nurses "If I feel I need it, give it to me". I just never got to the point of asking for meds, I just handled it like they taught me in Lamaze and tried to stay calm. Anyway, I start having interesting contractions one day and some bloody show (sorry to the men and/or queasy readers - this is your last chance to exit this blog....) but, hey, I've been through this three times, it's gonna take a lot to get me to the doctor. I experienced false labor with every pregnancy and those middle-of-the-night trips to the hospital only to be sent home still pregnant are no fun. Well, the contractions keep coming and are getting regular so I decide to sleep and go to the doctor the next morning. Note: I went to a clinic with 3 doctors, A B & C. Dr. B I loathe with the fire of a thousand suns and refuse to let him near me after a really bad moment during my second labor when he called the hospital and told them to tell me not to push, he'd mosey over when he finished dinner. I was at 10cm. Dr. C is okay, but Dr. A is my hero. He has really taken care of me over the years, he knows all of my ins and outs, literally. (sorry, couldn't resist) He and I have an agreement that he will deliver this baby no matter what, whether he is on-call or not. He even changed his vacation to accommodate my due date. At the clinic, good old Dr. A examines me, but is not impressed. He tells me to go home, but if anything happens to call and go to the hospital. After I hang out at home for a while, I'm feeling pretty much like having a baby so I call the clinic. The receptionist tells me Dr. A has gone for the day and no, she won't page him, he isn't on-call. "But we have an agreement!" I say. She says, "Sorry, if I don't have his written orders, I am not to call him. You'll have to go to the hospital and see the Dr. on-call". In the hospital I am hooked to a monitor which also isn't showing anything very impressive and the nurse tells me Dr. B will be in soon to do an internal exam (nurse already did one, I am starting to dilate). Remember, I hate Dr. B's guts. After an hour Dr. B still hasn't moseyed in to check me so I pull the monitor off my tummy and say I'm going home. The nurse checks in with Dr. B who orders her to give me 2 Ambien and send me home. Mind you, I am a lightweight with all meds/alcohol/whathaveyou. I once took 1/2 an Ambien and it was, "Bye bye, Mable. See you next Thursday". So, off I go to labor at home. I think I've mentioned that I've done this a few times so I'm thinking, the best way to hurry up a baby is movement! We played badminton with our three other kids in the backyard. Now my neighbors tell me it was a really scary sight seeing this hugely pregnant woman running around. I would pause for each contraction and go on playing. When it got dark we went inside and I continued the reading aloud of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Again: read a little, have a contraction, read a little, and so on. At bedtime I dutifully took my Ambien (only one though, I 'm not a complete fool) and we all go to sleep. My eldest daughter is worried about me so she camps out on the floor in our room. At about 3am I wake up suddenly, having to use the toilet. I clamber out of the bed and go into the bathroom when I realize I don't have to go potty, I'm about to have a baby. Apparently I've slept through transition! I call my sweet husband who comes in saying, "Oh no, oh no, you can't have the baby here!" He said I had the look of a wild animal in my eyes as I sought a place to deliver. Fortunately we had been in full nesting mode and a huge pile of clean, folded towels was at the ready. He threw them all over the bathroom floor so I would have a semi-sanitary place to deliver. Like all my babies, a couple of pushes was all it took. I had been reading a fabulous book on Midwifery to prepare for this birth and the knowledge I gained was a saving grace. I remembered not to push too hard, but to pant and let the baby exit easily. I still tore, but oh well. By this time my husband had 911 on the line. They were instructing him to tie off the cord. He told them he didn't have anything to use and then he remembered his brand new pack of shoelaces! After the cord stopped pulsing, he tied a lace around it as instructed. The baby was born and didn't make a sound. She was really warm, of course, but her eyes weren't open and she wasn't moving. They kept telling us we had to get her to breathe. My husband put his face against hers and she wasn't inhaling. We had her laying on my chest/tummy and we began rubbing her back vigorously, back and forth and finally she gave a huge cough and blew out all the stuff that was blocking her mouth and nose. At his point the paramedics arrived and loaded us onto a stretcher and into the ambulance. I delivered the placenta on the way to the hospital. One thing I forgot to mention was that the hospital I planned to deliver in, the one in which I'd been checked that day was in another town. The ambulance took me to the hospital in the town where I live, which didn't know who I was. After checking in, baby to NICU, stitches, etc. Social Services comes to see the homeless lady who had the baby on her bathroom floor! They thought I had no doctor! Oh, and my husband wasn't yet at the hospital because he was at home cleaning up the bathroom and waiting for the sitter to get there. When we finally got the story straight, the new hospital was in shock about what had happened. They called my doctor's office and told them they had his patient. Do you know, my own doctor, my beloved Dr A NEVER CALLED ME? Not one word, no "how is the baby", no flowers, no check-up, no "how are you doing". Nothing. The baby went to the NICU and stayed for a week. She was healthy, but had a hard time breathing room air. Her little face was obscured with tape and tubes, it was an unbelievably difficult time. She wasn't able to breastfeed with her tubes so I pumped and tried to bottle feed her. When we brought her home she was still on oxygen, but soon that wasn't needed. Today she is a fabulous, healthy girl about to have her 3rd birthday. I will never move from this house. In my bathroom I've hung a print by Gustav Klimt of a detail of a painting depicting a mother holding her baby. I think they kind of look like us.