I don't think I have PPD. I *do* think I have issues surrounding my son's birth. Jude is 4 months old, and this will be the first time I type out his birth story.
The short version is this:
His was a planned homebirth. I spent 26 hours at home, but (stupidly) decided to transfer to the local hospital b/c I was exhausted. Exhausted. I thought I wanted drugs, though I still didn't want an epidural. I was hoping for IV drugs to take the edge off. I didn't think I could make it through the pain on my own.
At the hospital, the nurse was unable to get a vein. I did not have any pain meds for Jude's birth, and for that I am grateful (though at the time I would have given my left arm for some). I did, however, let myself be bullied into letting the UA violution OB used the vaccuum (didn't work... I pushed him out all on my own). After telling the OB I did not want an episiotomy, he said okay and proceeded to cut me anyway. While I was pushing, the nurse kept shoving her fingers into me to "show me how to push," even though I had been making fine progress on my own. She only stopped when I yelled at her to get her effing fingers out of me. Asking her to stop did no good.
When Jude was finally born, the OB respected my wishes to wait to cut the cord until it stopped pulsating. However, waiting another 5-10 minutes for the placenta to detach was just too long. He shot Pitocin into my umbillical cord to speed up delivery. And then I bled out. My midwife (she came with me to act as my doula) was appaled and has since said that she was actually scared at how much blood I loss. I passed out while lying down, if that's any indication.
The only good thing about the experience was that I was able to advocate for my son. Between my dear husband's watchful eye and my near hysterical screaming, we were able to ensure that he remained unvaxed, unretracted, and intact. Thank God for that.
I can't figure out what it is that I'm feeling. I know that I feel like a failure. I was so sure that I wasn't going to have to transfer to a hospital that I didn't make provisians in case I had to. I feel like my body was violated, and that makes me feel very, very dirty.
When the memory of Jude's birth pops into my head (which it has been doing a lot lately... mostly at night), I feel like I'm suffocating. I can't help but cry when I talk about it, and I don't know what to do.
Help. Please.
The short version is this:
His was a planned homebirth. I spent 26 hours at home, but (stupidly) decided to transfer to the local hospital b/c I was exhausted. Exhausted. I thought I wanted drugs, though I still didn't want an epidural. I was hoping for IV drugs to take the edge off. I didn't think I could make it through the pain on my own.
At the hospital, the nurse was unable to get a vein. I did not have any pain meds for Jude's birth, and for that I am grateful (though at the time I would have given my left arm for some). I did, however, let myself be bullied into letting the UA violution OB used the vaccuum (didn't work... I pushed him out all on my own). After telling the OB I did not want an episiotomy, he said okay and proceeded to cut me anyway. While I was pushing, the nurse kept shoving her fingers into me to "show me how to push," even though I had been making fine progress on my own. She only stopped when I yelled at her to get her effing fingers out of me. Asking her to stop did no good.
When Jude was finally born, the OB respected my wishes to wait to cut the cord until it stopped pulsating. However, waiting another 5-10 minutes for the placenta to detach was just too long. He shot Pitocin into my umbillical cord to speed up delivery. And then I bled out. My midwife (she came with me to act as my doula) was appaled and has since said that she was actually scared at how much blood I loss. I passed out while lying down, if that's any indication.
The only good thing about the experience was that I was able to advocate for my son. Between my dear husband's watchful eye and my near hysterical screaming, we were able to ensure that he remained unvaxed, unretracted, and intact. Thank God for that.
I can't figure out what it is that I'm feeling. I know that I feel like a failure. I was so sure that I wasn't going to have to transfer to a hospital that I didn't make provisians in case I had to. I feel like my body was violated, and that makes me feel very, very dirty.
When the memory of Jude's birth pops into my head (which it has been doing a lot lately... mostly at night), I feel like I'm suffocating. I can't help but cry when I talk about it, and I don't know what to do.
Help. Please.
