Trigger! IUGR-Preemie. Will these wounds ever heal?
Dear fellow moms,
Please don't read this if you are currently pregnant or haven't completed your family planning yet, as it may be very hard and painful to read. I myself have a very hard time to write this without crying...
The following is what I have experienced in a German university hospital.
It would be easy if I could say this is the first time ever something terrible happened to me. It would be easy if I hadn't any other horrible experiences to compare it with. But I'm a survivor of childhood brutality, alcoholic and mentally ill parents. I used to be the "weird kid" who had no friends, was fat and bullied a lot in school. By teachers and other children.
I'm gay. Still my deepest wish was to have a family. Children. (No, not to "compensate what I never had." Please don't ask me this and don't suggest that either. It isn't the case!) Four years ago, when meeting my wife I came out. Until then my environment viewed me as "the loser fatty who no guy wants to date."
Yes, life has not been kind to me. But it continued spiraling downwards when finding out we would be dependent on IVF due to Poly-cystic Ovarian Syndrome.
I got pregnant, but was wrongly diagnosed with blighted ovum/missed miscarriage shortly after. The diagnosis was a mistake, but cytotec didn't work on me and two weeks later an embryo with heartbeat was detected on the ultrasound, however she was way too small for the gestational week and already considered a non-intact pregnancy or beginning miscarriage.
From this day on, I was pushed into attending daily ultrasounds, convinced I would be miscarrying for sure and that it can be the case any day. When my daughter was still alive, yet still growing extremely bad at 14 weeks of gestation, the ultrasounds were scheduled once per week. At this point doctors were still convinced my child would die and her heart could just stop any moment.
At 18 weeks, I was still on Metformin because of my insulin resistance. This was known to the diabetic clinic, yet they still did a glucose tolerance test which of course came back with very bad results. I was put on insulin, despite having neither gestational, nor manifest type 1 or 2, and a strict no-carb diet "To prevent fetal macrosomia" which was ridiculous because my daughter was obviously growth restricted! I lost eight pounds of weight in four weeks.
The blood-gucose-debacle tyrannized my entire pregnancy, even if my levels never were truly bad - which I only found out about afterwards.
I went to a specialist for blood clotting diseases on my own, where it was discovered that I would have "Faktor-V-Mutation." Heparin would help, but the specialist couldn't prescribe it to me, however the hospital insisted that at this state of pregnancy, it would be "useless at best and harmful at worst" and denied me medication proven to be helpful.
At 23 weeks the university clinic took me hostage the first time, according to the ultrasound my daughter was two weeks behind in growth. They wanted to take her from me by cesarean section, but before they insisted in doing an amniocentesis as her femoral bone was very short. Results came back negative. "So it's cesarean, not inducing." Was what the nurse told me. I became aware of the meanings of her words only much much later...
I left the clinic by choice - which was OK, since my health and life was not affected negatively by the pregnancy. One day before I was supposed to get the first steroid shot.
The Gyn consulted a shrink, insisting I wasn't right in the head for not consenting to such an early cesarean anymore. On one hand they decided an amniocentesis for me, which could have resulted in a late miscarriage - then they wanted to abort my child, had the results of it shown any chromosomal anomalies, but then deny me the decision to make, that my child should rather die in it's mother's womb instead of a NICU Unit. The shrink eventually confirmed it would be my choice alone to make.
At 27 weeks, a driver crashed into my car at the parking spot of the mall. Nothing happened, but I was rushed to the hospital for observation. That's when I was kidnapped again and got two steroid shots against my declared wish. "Your child will die otherwise" was what the doctor yelled me in the face with.
I still refused the cesarean, but was forced to stay in the hospital for observation - which means daily Ultrasound with Doppler and CTG three times a day.
At 33 Weeks I developed Pre-Ecampsia due to stress, lack of sleep, emotional torment and inappropriate nutrition in the hospital. I refused to take medication to lower blood pressure, as it can be very dangerous for IUGR children, therefor the hospital insisted on inducing labor.
After 24 hours of being left alone in one of their birth rooms, random people checking the dilation occasionally, my daughter's heart rate began dropping.
Without saying a word, I was transported to the surgery room, had the anesthesia-mask pushed on my face and when I woke up my daughter was in another clinic.
I didn't see her for three days. She had been given formula, despite my wish to breastfeed. She had 1600g and was in a very good condition, healthy and breathing on her own. Still the NICU insisted on isolating her from me.
We never had skin-to-skin contact in the hospital and I couldn't express any milk for my little baby girl.
She was kept prisoner in a back room of the NICU for three months, despite her being healthy. They put a CD with "nature sounds" for her in endless slope. I had no idea nature sounds could be so depressing and I'm triggered by them so much now that I don't even leave the house.
More than twice the hospital wanted to have me locked up in a psychiatric clinic. I have no mental illness and am not suicidal, that's why they didn't get it through.
My daughter was sent home because we hired a nurse for a year. Privately. Even if we couldn't afford it and she wasn't actually necessary. We just wanted our daughter home with us. But despite living with her for 15 months now, she's almost a stranger to me... too much has happened. I will tell you in detail on another occasion.
I'm sorry you had to read all this but maybe I'm not alone.
Thank you for reading,
Love and Hugs.