A letter to my midwife
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It’s been almost 2 years since my second unplanned, unwanted and possibly avoidable caesarean. Me, my baby and my birth probably never cross your mind. But I wanted to let you know that you are in my thoughts often, especially at this time of year. You feature in my
flashbacks, you feature in my
trauma, you feature in my
fears for the future.
I wrote a letter of complaint to the hospital at the one year anniversary. I thought that would help me to “get over it”. But it didn’t. There are so many things I want you to know. So many things I need to get out of me. So here goes.
Me at 42 weeks and 3 days pregnant. I should have been happy to take a call from my midwife, not switching my phone off in order to feel safe.
You betrayed me. When we first met you assured me that you would support my birth plan. You gave no indication that you were frightened of VBAC or of “post term” birth. You let me enter our relationship full of trust. Trust in you. Trust that you would advocate for me and care for me. At 36 weeks you
showed your true colours. You “forgot” our conversation and told me to remember that “all that matters is a safe delivery”. To add insult to injury you noted in my file that I was “adamant that she will VBAC at any cost”.
That night I went to a support group meeting where
I cried my way through my story and what you had said and how betrayed I felt. I cried as I told a group of women that
I no longer trusted my care provider and that I was now afraid that I would just say no to anything you recommended as I felt that you did not have my best interests at heart.
I can still feel the
complete exasperation I felt when you told me that I needed an induction plan because “You aren’t allowed to stay pregnant forever”. I still wonder what on earth possessed you to say such a stupid thing! I still
feel the fear I felt as I looked at my phone saw your name and switched it off. Knowing that you were going to be telling me to induce and knowing that I needed you out of my space in order to feel calm, peaceful and safe.
I can still feel
the loneliness as you left to get the head midwife, knowing that you were no longer going to even pretend to support me. The
raw pain as you both told me how traumatised the staff would be if my baby died. I
still see you laughing as the obstetrician told me that I must want a vaginal birth more than a live baby. I still feel the
pain as you told me that you had been unable to sleep all week for fear that my baby would die.
I still feel
pieces of me die inside as I “negotiated” what I would get if I consented to an induction. An induction that I didn’t want, didn’t need and was terrified of. I still feel
my soul cry out as I realised that, regardless of how many people were present,
I would be abandoned in my birth.
I still feel the
violation at having my waters broken without consent, during a stretch and sweep that was not necessary, not wanted and not truly consented to. I passed the hospital during a recent holiday and as I spied it out the corner of my eye my knees locked together, my heartrate increased and tears welled in my eyes as I my body remembered the
horrendous feeling of being trapped.
Feeling violated and trapped and tangled in cords.
I still feel the
anger of you declaring that I couldn’t have immediate skin to skin after all. That after 8 hours of violations and trauma when I finally gave in to your demands for a caesarean you told me that the baby needed to be weighed before I could have him on me. You can never know how it kills me to know that you, YOU, got to hold my baby before I did. He looked into your eyes before mine and heard your voice first. You, who didn’t even care for him enough to honour him and his birth by honouring his mother. Some days
I wonder if the unfairness of it all will kill me.
My little bubba before I even got to see him.
My partner and I had dreamed of having a large family and you may have taken that from us. For how can I ever trust a care provider again? You were my midwife. You lied to me. You betrayed me. Your "care" left a wound on my soul that may never heal. I learned my lesson. And I learned it well and with every fibre of my being.
I will not trust again. For you have proven to not be trustworthy.
Further reading about birth trauma:
{Why I'm joining the birthing revolution}
{The vessel}
{Just one day}
{What being bullied says about you}
{Obstetric violence: stop burying your head in the sand!}
{Pregnancy, birth and mental health - Why some women aren't seeking the help they need}
{From birthing trauma to birthing revolution}
{5 things I wish every woman knew about birth trauma}
{Who loves my baby more than me}
%matterhatter
258475 - 2023-07-20 01:24:34