After writing my last post, a "block" seemed to have been moved; story after story of amazing births I've been privileged to attend just seem to tumble from my memory; I sat down at my computer to start writing about them, and then I thought about E.
E. gave birth to her third child, a precious little girl, several weeks ago. It was E.'s third C-section, her second attempt at VBAC, her third attempt at a vaginal birth. With both of her previous birth experiences, the argument could be (powerfully) made, that mismanagement of her labor led to each C-section. With her third birth, only God knows why events unfolded as they did, and led to a third surgical birth, this one an emergency situation, that occurred with E. under general anesthesia.
E. had tried so hard to "do the right thing". She takes excellent care of herself. She's well educated, seeks out the right support for herself, does everything she can to have a safe, healthy birthing for her children and herself. For her first birth, she chose to be attended by very well-known Certified Professional Midwives; for her second, she chose to attempt VBAC with a physician who works very hard to be "hands off" and encourage her patients to give birth on their own terms; for this third birth, E. was fortunate enough to live in a city in which a prominent (it could be argued the national expert) physician-researcher (responsible for probably the most comprehensive study on VBAC ever published) practices. She chose this physician to attend her for her third pregnancy and birth, and together, this patient/physician team worked very hard to secure a healthy pregnancy and safe birth. In the end, that is exactly what they did...although with a significant "hitch" that both of them would rather not have experienced.
After an uneventful pregnancy and smooth first few hours of labor, no pain meds, no epidural, with an attentive husband and doula at her side, E. had progressed smoothly to nearly transition labor. I was so pleased for her! Having popped my head into her labor room to welcome and encourage her, and a share a quick hug with her doula, a close friend of mine, I picked up my bag and clocked out for the day (she had arrived near the end of my shift, and I would not have the good fortune to be her nurse). There was a celebratory mood in the room, and I was nearly floating on air out of happiness for her.
On my way off the unit, a barrage of nurses, residents, and the prominent attending physician suddenly came barreling out of the nurses station, clamoring towards E.'s labor room. The flurry of activity, calls for help and surgical preparations (anesthesia! OR!) that were occurring made it clear that something had gone wrong. The amazing emergency "machine" of our unit had mobilized. When a true emergency occurs, this is a thing to behold. The nurses, techs, clerks, anesthetists and physicians on the unit truly become a single entity, each individual a cog in a wheel that is rotating furiously, each performing nearly automatically, and almost always expertly, their own function, with the goal of getting the mother into surgery, and keeping her and her baby safe. While I admit that the "adrenaline addict" in me gets a bit of a "high" from situations like this, and while my main goal is to avoid having any of our mothers go to the OR, times like this make me feel grateful, and humbled to be able to call myself a part of this amazing team.
Already out of my scrubs, and off the clock, I felt helpless and powerless as I watched in dismay the "machine" thunder down the hall towards the OR with E., hunched over in "knee-chest" position in her bed, her doula and her husband running behind as they pulled on the white, zip-front "bunny suits", caps and masks they would need to accompany E. in the OR. I knew she would be OK. I knew the baby would survive...because I know that machine; but I ached that she seemed to be losing her last chance to have the vaginal birth she had always dreamed of having.
After the commotion had settled, the baby was out, and both she and her mother were deemed safe, I learned that E. had experienced a uterine rupture! This blew my mind. Why her??? She had worked so hard! She was well nourished, it had been several years since her last birth, plenty of time for good tissue healing, and from her previous op reports, she had had a strong, "double layer" repair after her second C-section. She had labored naturally, without the aid of Pitocin, and had (gratefully, in retrospect), had no pain medication or epidural to mask the symptoms of uterine rupture. She had labored to almost complete dilation. The odds were so in her favor for a vaginal birth that this occurrence was a true stunner.
Fortunately, the tear in E.'s uterine wall was repairable, and with the skill of what I am convinced is the best surgeon and surgical team in the country, E. was safe, her baby is healthy, and I know she will heal well.
Physically, at least.
But emotionally?
E. knows that what happened to her was a random, unlikely occurrence. She is grateful and happy to be alive, and to have a healthy daughter to love and raise; but still she grieves for her lost opportunities to experience birth as she had always expected she would; to give birth the way she was designed to. To give birth the way most mothers take for granted. To feel her baby emerge from her body as she worked and pushed to bring her forth under her own incredible power.
Everything had happened so fast. It must have taken quite a bit for it all to sink in, for E. and her husband. This is a couple that has always wanted a big family. Even as they counted their blessings from this averted tragedy, I heard that E.,s husband had asked their doula if they would ever be able to have more children. "Maybe...but only if you schedule a C-section at 39 weeks", she had replied...and this coming from a woman one of whose main missions in life is to help get our country's C-section rate down from it's current outrageous high of 33 percent. For a while I worried that E. just was not coping with her loss...that she was so focused on having a vaginal birth that she was letting the first precious weeks with her new daughter slip away ruminating about her lost opportunities and planning for a future VBAC. While most would feel that decision would be unsafe (and I even include myself in that number), there are midwives (who's judgement I reject) out there who might accommodate such a request. Indeed, well meaning posters on our local birth-support email lists tried to encourage E. by questioning whether she experienced a "true" rupture (she did) rather than "just a dehiscence", by questioning the decision to perform the surgery (!!??), by questioning her memory of the events, and by encouraging her to look forward to a VBA3C in the future. After a couple of unreturned telephone messages to her, and several emails without response, my worries increased...for a while.
My worries were unfounded. As much as I know she cares, I think right now I'm a reminder to E. of her lost dream of a vaginal birth. I understand that, and I won't pursue contact that she might be uncomfortable with, even though I mean only to support and care. Through the community of women who support birthing women in my city, I've learned that E. is doing well. From time to time I will see a post from her on our local ICAN (International Cesarean Awareness Network) email list, and I can tell that she is working through her grief in her own way. One post in particular that she made, was an impassioned plea to the leaders of ICAN in our community to provide more support for "those of us who will never have a vaginal birth".
My heart goes out to her. She is correct to make such a plea. While I support the work that ICAN does both nationally and locally, I've been concerned for a while that the focus on avoiding C-section, and the focus on VBAC neglects those women who may never experience another pregnancy after their C-section; that those whose C-sections were truly life saving or health-preserving might doubt their caregivers, or more importantly, their acceptance of their care-giver's decision. What aggravated me most in this particular situation, was how quick E.'s "supporters" were to second guess both her trust of her medical team, after she had put so much time and effort in choosing it, and in that team's decision, particularly when those supporters were so far removed from the situation. Hindsight is not always 20/20, and I did not consider that support.
I don't think this is or was intentional; but I think some of the printed materials, and particularly those mothers who were able to achieve a successful VBAC after a truly unnecessary c-section can inadvertently give off the "vibe" that ICAN is only for those mothers who are recovering from, or avoiding abuses of the medical system. Knowing that it will be a fine line to toe, I would like to see the group, while avoiding the risk of "normalizing" the procedure, provide more overt support to mothers who, as E. has so passionately phrased it, will never have a vaginal birth.
C-Sections are Births, too. No one would deny that, but I think in our zeal to reduce the c-section rate, to avoid that first c-section, and to promote VBAC, we have inadvertently minimized that. We in the medical community, in our rush to protect the safety of a mother and baby needing an emergency or emergent c-section, or to keep a busy, even over-loaded maternity unit running efficiently, are guilty of the same. That "machine" I spoke of, the one that I so admire and am so proud to be part of most of the time, continues to, on a calmer level, run much the same, even when the surgery is planned. It's what we do; it's our culture; it's what we are accustomed to; it's our turf!
Well, it may be so, but it's also the birth of a human being. A woman becomes a mother, a couple becomes a family, or a family grows by one (or two, or more ;-}). I've read about calm, quiet, lowly-lit (for the emergence the baby) surgical births where the baby is delivered slowly, in full view of the mother and her support person(s), sometimes even to be placed on her upper chest before being whisked over to a warmer to be dried off, examined and bundled up by nurses or pediatricians; of babies who have even breastfed while the mother was being sutured post-delivery. Even in my own experience on a unit made sometimes over-conservative as a result of being a referral center for high risk pregnancies, I know of at least one physician, one who is conservative himself, who is frustrated at the business-as-usual way in which our cesarean deliveries are usually carried out. I suspect he would balk at the slow, dimly lit delivery with a newly born, wet baby being placed immediately on the mother, or of baby nursing during surgery (I can also envision the hysterics of our very conservative chief anesthesiologist, LOL), but I know he would prefer that we keep baby with the mother and her support people during recovery, and get breastfeeding initiated, rather than whisk baby away to the nursery after a few moments in Dad's (or whoever the mother has chosen for her support) arms, while he (or she) sat next to the mother. On a busy unit such as ours that can be a challenge...particularly because our recovery room has limited space and no infant warmers...but we have done it from time to time, for those assertive mothers who have requested it. It can be done. I'd like to see it done more often.
Likewise, I'd like to see members of ICAN be more conscious (although I know they already try to be) of the feelings of mothers who have given and will continue to give birth surgically. I understand the triumph of a woman who has "beaten the system" to have a VBAC; but that is not reason enough to, even unintentionally, and even sympathetically, view a woman who has had a c-section as a woman who has had a negative birth experience...who has not researched all of her options...who has "given in" to the system.
No, we don't want to risk normalizing surgical birth; but we certainly could benefit from humanizing it much more...both those who perform surgical births, and those whose (admirable) goal is to avoid it.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Monday, October 6, 2008
A Beautiful Birth
It's been four days since my last shift, and I'm still trying to find the words to describe one of loveliest births I've had the privilege of attending as a labor nurse. This kind of birth is so rare in the hospital environment; but the experience has reaffirmed my belief that if a woman truly educates herself, has trust in her body and the Natural Design of birth, and surrounds herself with the appropriate support, a minimally interventive birth can be achieved in the hospital. With the permission of the lovely couple and their doula, I am honored to be able to tell their story here.
The mother is a 32 year old woman G., who was laboring with her first baby. She was accompanied by her husband C., and her doula, S., a lovely woman who stayed by the side of her client nearly every moment of a long, long labor. I came on shift at 7:oo P.M., and the couple had been there since the late hours of the previous night shift. The report I received was that G.'s water had broken at 2:30 in in the morning (so we are now well over 12 hours) and that she, C., and S. had walked for hours trying to get labor started, until finally she consented to have her labor augmented with Pitocin.
When I entered the room, G. was in the throes of full, hard labor. The room was dark and soft music played from their ipod dock on the side table. The labor bed was bent into a "chair" position, with the top of the bed straight up, and the bottom of the bed lowered to support her feet. This was a woman who had determined that her labor would be accomplished on her own terms. She wore her own clothing, a tank top and a short "skirt"...it looked like it might have been a "Binsi" skirt (www.birthbinsi.com). She sat upright on the "chair"bed, bare feet planted firmly on the foot rest. S, a slender (thirtysomething?) woman with short blonde hair perched just behind her, one arm about her waist, the other on her shoulder. In front of her, C. knealt on the foot of the bed, while she rested her forehead on his chest, his hands placed around her shoulders in a soft embrace. Back and forth they all rocked, a single, loving, hard working entity, to the tempo set by G. as she groaned a low, throaty labor song with each contraction. As each contraction slowed, she would exhale and lean back into the S.'s arms, to accept a sip of water or a cool cloth on her face and neck. As another contraction would well up, she would again lean in towards C., S. would take her place behind her, and they would resume the rythm of their labor "dance". Occasionally G. would move from the bed to a birth ball beside the bed, and C. or S. would massage her lower back or perform a "hip squeeze" to help aleviate back labor. As time moved on, G. began standing beside the bed, bending over with each contraction, placing her hands on the bed and rotating her hips through each one. As each contraction would peak, her labor song would progress from a long low moan to nearly a growl...a "she bear", working to bring her baby into the world.
During each contraction (which S. would refer to as "surges"...appropriate, I think), G. seemed to move completely into her own world. As each surge came to an end, she would look up and brightly smile at one of her companions, crack a wry joke about her "situation", or, if I was in the room, ask a question or ask to be checked. What I loved about these times was that she would be completely calm and happily "present", as if the considerable pain she was experiencing during the surges had never happened at all.
One of the things I hear over and over again, from nurses, physicians, anesthesiologists, and from many women is why, with the epidural, women would want to experience the pain of labor. As a nurse, I struggle with complying with the wish of some mothers not to offer them pain relief until they ask for it. We're trained to treat pain. It's difficult to stand by and let it happen. My doula friend C. has helped me by reminding me that the pain of labor does not always mean "suffering". That has helped me when working with mother's who fully understand and want to work with their labor; but so many women equate labor pain with just that...suffering. I've listened to women who've arrived at the hospital with no time before delivery to get an epidural and heard their panicky pleas for "something, anything" to save them from their pain. They truly felt they were suffering. Sometimes I've been able talk them through their contractions, either with my voice alone, or with a visualization, and they realize that yes, they can do this...and they seem to cope better. Other times, no matter how hard I try, the woman is so tightly gripped by her fear of the pain, and of the process, that nothing I do seems to help. This is when I feel the most helpless.
I wonder if some physicians and nurses roll their eyes at a woman who has arrived at the hospital with a birthplan, or a doula, or both, because they are not accustomed to the woman being the one who is "in charge". We're used to setting the pace for labor, of determining in what manner the "outcome" will be achieved. When a woman and her support team call the shots, and call them appropriately, there is very little for us to do. Waiting and watching, listening and supporting, while it is the major role of a midwife, is not something that labor nurses get a chance to do much of; and it's not something that physicians are trained to do. I tend to make myself scarce during this type of labor; I figure the woman knows her support team and each knows what to expect of the other. Particularly when a good doula accompanies the woman, there is very little I can offer in the way of education and support. With G.,s labor, as much as I truly supported and admired the way she was accomplishing it, I felt like an intruder when I needed to replace the blood pressure cuff, or readjust the fetal monitoring system. She was very gracious though, and before long I began to feel welcome as a part of her "team".
Several moments stand out for me in my memory of this labor. The first is a "picture" I will forever hold in my heart. While G., C., and S. rocked back and fourth in their labor dance, there was a moment when C. laid his head against his wife's breast. G., her eyes closed, leaned back against S., face turned upwards, and S., as she rocked with G. in her arms, placed her cheek softly against G.'s hair, her eyes also closed, with a look of pure love on her face. My words do little to describe the sweetness of that moment. I so wished I had a camera to capture it for them. Later on in labor I was able to borrow C.'s camera and take a few photos as G. pushed, lying on her side, while S. and C. supported her, and the Nurse Midwife squatted at the end of the bed, smiling at the progress G. was making with her powerful, grunty pushes (no "hold your breath and count to 10" nonsense here...and she pushed for only 45 minutes. I wanted to pull every nurse and resident on the floor into that room and say "See, you can push a baby out without holding your breath !!!!! Of course I didn't, but I made sure to get the word around afterwards). At one point just a short while before G. began to push, she called me into the room and asked me to check her progress, because "I feel like I'm losing control". She wasn't though...in between those contractions she was as clear and "in control" as any one else in the room. I hope that pointing this out to her...that from my perspective she was maintaining perfect control...was something she was able to "hear" as she continued on in her labor. There were a few times when she would come out of a contraction and breathlessly exclaim "I can't do this any more"...but she was nearly complete at that point...a classic "signpost" of transition labor.
At 1:53 A.M...nearly 24 hours from the time G.'s water had broken...a beautiful little boy tumbled into the world and a family was born. He spent the next hour and a half cuddled next to his mother, nursing, snoozing, occasionally protesting. C. was ecstatic, and G., as exhausted as she might have been, instead seemed to experience a second wind. As she chatted and nursed her son, you might never have guessed that only a few moments before she was near exhaustion. S. continued her constant support of G., helping her position the baby for nursing, providing food and drink, and tidying up the room for the coming move to the postpartum room.
If only every labor could be like this; if only every woman had such a wonderful support team; if only every woman believed in herself the way G. did.
Welcome Little One. You are as fortunate to be born to your Mother and Father as they are delighted with you. I will forever be blessed for having been witness to your arrival.
The mother is a 32 year old woman G., who was laboring with her first baby. She was accompanied by her husband C., and her doula, S., a lovely woman who stayed by the side of her client nearly every moment of a long, long labor. I came on shift at 7:oo P.M., and the couple had been there since the late hours of the previous night shift. The report I received was that G.'s water had broken at 2:30 in in the morning (so we are now well over 12 hours) and that she, C., and S. had walked for hours trying to get labor started, until finally she consented to have her labor augmented with Pitocin.
When I entered the room, G. was in the throes of full, hard labor. The room was dark and soft music played from their ipod dock on the side table. The labor bed was bent into a "chair" position, with the top of the bed straight up, and the bottom of the bed lowered to support her feet. This was a woman who had determined that her labor would be accomplished on her own terms. She wore her own clothing, a tank top and a short "skirt"...it looked like it might have been a "Binsi" skirt (www.birthbinsi.com). She sat upright on the "chair"bed, bare feet planted firmly on the foot rest. S, a slender (thirtysomething?) woman with short blonde hair perched just behind her, one arm about her waist, the other on her shoulder. In front of her, C. knealt on the foot of the bed, while she rested her forehead on his chest, his hands placed around her shoulders in a soft embrace. Back and forth they all rocked, a single, loving, hard working entity, to the tempo set by G. as she groaned a low, throaty labor song with each contraction. As each contraction slowed, she would exhale and lean back into the S.'s arms, to accept a sip of water or a cool cloth on her face and neck. As another contraction would well up, she would again lean in towards C., S. would take her place behind her, and they would resume the rythm of their labor "dance". Occasionally G. would move from the bed to a birth ball beside the bed, and C. or S. would massage her lower back or perform a "hip squeeze" to help aleviate back labor. As time moved on, G. began standing beside the bed, bending over with each contraction, placing her hands on the bed and rotating her hips through each one. As each contraction would peak, her labor song would progress from a long low moan to nearly a growl...a "she bear", working to bring her baby into the world.
During each contraction (which S. would refer to as "surges"...appropriate, I think), G. seemed to move completely into her own world. As each surge came to an end, she would look up and brightly smile at one of her companions, crack a wry joke about her "situation", or, if I was in the room, ask a question or ask to be checked. What I loved about these times was that she would be completely calm and happily "present", as if the considerable pain she was experiencing during the surges had never happened at all.
One of the things I hear over and over again, from nurses, physicians, anesthesiologists, and from many women is why, with the epidural, women would want to experience the pain of labor. As a nurse, I struggle with complying with the wish of some mothers not to offer them pain relief until they ask for it. We're trained to treat pain. It's difficult to stand by and let it happen. My doula friend C. has helped me by reminding me that the pain of labor does not always mean "suffering". That has helped me when working with mother's who fully understand and want to work with their labor; but so many women equate labor pain with just that...suffering. I've listened to women who've arrived at the hospital with no time before delivery to get an epidural and heard their panicky pleas for "something, anything" to save them from their pain. They truly felt they were suffering. Sometimes I've been able talk them through their contractions, either with my voice alone, or with a visualization, and they realize that yes, they can do this...and they seem to cope better. Other times, no matter how hard I try, the woman is so tightly gripped by her fear of the pain, and of the process, that nothing I do seems to help. This is when I feel the most helpless.
I wonder if some physicians and nurses roll their eyes at a woman who has arrived at the hospital with a birthplan, or a doula, or both, because they are not accustomed to the woman being the one who is "in charge". We're used to setting the pace for labor, of determining in what manner the "outcome" will be achieved. When a woman and her support team call the shots, and call them appropriately, there is very little for us to do. Waiting and watching, listening and supporting, while it is the major role of a midwife, is not something that labor nurses get a chance to do much of; and it's not something that physicians are trained to do. I tend to make myself scarce during this type of labor; I figure the woman knows her support team and each knows what to expect of the other. Particularly when a good doula accompanies the woman, there is very little I can offer in the way of education and support. With G.,s labor, as much as I truly supported and admired the way she was accomplishing it, I felt like an intruder when I needed to replace the blood pressure cuff, or readjust the fetal monitoring system. She was very gracious though, and before long I began to feel welcome as a part of her "team".
Several moments stand out for me in my memory of this labor. The first is a "picture" I will forever hold in my heart. While G., C., and S. rocked back and fourth in their labor dance, there was a moment when C. laid his head against his wife's breast. G., her eyes closed, leaned back against S., face turned upwards, and S., as she rocked with G. in her arms, placed her cheek softly against G.'s hair, her eyes also closed, with a look of pure love on her face. My words do little to describe the sweetness of that moment. I so wished I had a camera to capture it for them. Later on in labor I was able to borrow C.'s camera and take a few photos as G. pushed, lying on her side, while S. and C. supported her, and the Nurse Midwife squatted at the end of the bed, smiling at the progress G. was making with her powerful, grunty pushes (no "hold your breath and count to 10" nonsense here...and she pushed for only 45 minutes. I wanted to pull every nurse and resident on the floor into that room and say "See, you can push a baby out without holding your breath !!!!! Of course I didn't, but I made sure to get the word around afterwards). At one point just a short while before G. began to push, she called me into the room and asked me to check her progress, because "I feel like I'm losing control". She wasn't though...in between those contractions she was as clear and "in control" as any one else in the room. I hope that pointing this out to her...that from my perspective she was maintaining perfect control...was something she was able to "hear" as she continued on in her labor. There were a few times when she would come out of a contraction and breathlessly exclaim "I can't do this any more"...but she was nearly complete at that point...a classic "signpost" of transition labor.
At 1:53 A.M...nearly 24 hours from the time G.'s water had broken...a beautiful little boy tumbled into the world and a family was born. He spent the next hour and a half cuddled next to his mother, nursing, snoozing, occasionally protesting. C. was ecstatic, and G., as exhausted as she might have been, instead seemed to experience a second wind. As she chatted and nursed her son, you might never have guessed that only a few moments before she was near exhaustion. S. continued her constant support of G., helping her position the baby for nursing, providing food and drink, and tidying up the room for the coming move to the postpartum room.
If only every labor could be like this; if only every woman had such a wonderful support team; if only every woman believed in herself the way G. did.
Welcome Little One. You are as fortunate to be born to your Mother and Father as they are delighted with you. I will forever be blessed for having been witness to your arrival.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
And I am Thrilled...
...for "AT YOUR CERVIX", as she begins a new journey in her life, the road to becoming a Certified Nurse Midwife...and a blessing to many women in the future. Check out her blog (again, click on the link in my "favorite blogs" section), and enjoy following it as she no doubt provides many wonderful, moving, hilarious, and educational stories of her journey...and be sure to leave a great big
CONGRATULATIONS!!!!!
in her comments section
I Am Humbled...
To know that women can communicate so eloquently and respectfully about a topic as important as a woman's decision to continue or terminate a pregnancy and all the issues surrounding it.
Please go to Navelgazing Midwife's blog (see my "favorite blogs" section and click on the link), and read her September 29 post, and particularly the comments. You will be richer for it.
Please go to Navelgazing Midwife's blog (see my "favorite blogs" section and click on the link), and read her September 29 post, and particularly the comments. You will be richer for it.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
For K
(Note...for those who, for whatever reason may be reading this blog, and think that I'm in a mass "catch up" mode because it's been waaaay too long since I've made any entries...you would be correct ;-) ).
A couple of weeks ago I was going through my email and opened a notice from a national list that I belong to. In one entry, the poster left a url to her Utube documentary of moments during her pregnancy and birthing. Lo and behold, when one picture captioned "My midwife" came across the screen, I actually clapped and cheered (a little...I mean, I was sitting alone at a keyboard in front of a computer monitor...didn't want to look like I was...emotionally challenged).
The picture was of a very special woman...a midwife who I met nearly 10 years ago when I was a brand new L&D nurse, and she was a "vet" nurse, having been on L&D for over 20 years.
That job was one of the most miserable jobs I have ever had. I had just put in my obligatory year of med/surge nursing where I had been very very successful, fresh out of college, when I transferred to where I had planned to be all along, labor and delivery.
First day out of the gate, I went into a total state of shock.
This was the late Nineties...I had "come of age" in the Seventies, in the era of "Our Bodies Ourselves", Ina May Gaskin, fighting for our rights in the hospital to have our partners at our side, to birth our babies naturally, without the fog of Scopalamine or Demerol, of immedate bonding and breastfeeding, of Bradley, Lamaze, and VBAC. Although I didn't give birth myself until nearly fifteen years later, I totally absorbed that mind set. I had pretty much gotten what I wanted when I gave birth for the first time in the late Eighties. I had no idea how much things had changed (read that regressed) in the "Self Empowerment in Birthing" school of thought. I was stunned at all the planned inductions, the "epidural as norm" attitude, and the relative ease with which the decision to perform a Cesarean Section was made. Honest to God, I even remember a physician sitting on the edge of the bed of a newly admitted, beautifully laboring multip, with a history of two vaginal births , then a c/section, and finally a successful VBAC, trying with all her might to convince the mother that it was too dangerous to "attempt" another VBAC, and that she should immediately prepare for surgery! She didn't, thank God, despite what was essentially a temper tantrum by her physician...the same physician who had attended her VBAC!!!!!
Needless to say, things didn't go well for me. I was simply aghast that mother's seemed to just accept drivel like this, few if any took childbirth preparation classes, or if they did, they managed to squeeze them in during an 8-hour marathon Saturday class, and that most of them wanted to "stop being pregnant" by 39 weeks, so they gladly scheduled their inductions, and the first question out of their mouths upon arrival was not "How soon can I breastfeed my baby", but "How soon can I get my epidural"? My sense of shock must have come across loud and clear, because I was not a favorite of the Assistant Nurse Manager or the Nurse Trainers on that floor. We butted heads over and over again. The Nurse Manager and I got along well...she knew where I was coming from. She was a woman who truly cared about both the patients on her unit, as well as her staff, but even she was struggling. Turns out that Ms. Assistant Nurse Manager had applied for the job, but had not gotten it because she didn't have the required Master's degree. The Trainers were her "homies" from years and years of working together. Together, they had as their mission in life to make the Nurse Manager's life miserable. Did I say I hated that Job? I hated, hated, hated it!
Three months into the job (I don't know how I even lasted that long) I was diagnosed with a serious surgical problem, and took a long (about another three months) sick leave post op. Somehow I managed to drag myself back to the unit after my leave, only to learn that, in my absence, the Nurse Manager had left for a position in the hospital I now work in, and Psycho Assistant Nurse Manager had inherited the job because no one else was willing to even apply for it!.
Crap. No, make that Shit! Shit, Shit, Shit! Sometimes, there's only one word that fits, and this is the one!
It took about three days before I was a complete basket case. PNM (Psycho Nurse Manager) decided that I needed to be "reoriented", since I had barely finished my orientation to the unit before I became sick. In other words, she wasn't going to let one of her predecessor's allies stay on her unit if she could help it. At the same time, she was making life miserable for her other "targets", many of whom decided to resign, and with each new space that opened, she brought in one of her "homies" from her former employer, a decrepit unit downtown that still practiced like they were in the dark ages. It was becoming a unit of battleaxes.
I don't know why I kept fighting. I'm very stubborn. I keep thinking that if I just try one more thing I'll be ableto "fix" whatever is going on that is not working. I have an uncanny way of making myself (and anyone close to me) nuts that way. Stupid, I know.
Enter K...othewise known as, "She Who Introduced Me to the Sanity of Hope and Knowing Myself".
One long, late, dark night on the unit I was working in the newborn nursery all alone (for of course, all mothers were encouraged to "rest" by leaving their newborns to cry it out in the nursery all night). I had just managed, as a new L&D nurse, to get the entire nursery (that night about a dozen babies) bathed, vaccinated, fed, tucked in and charted for the night (I came to find out later that this was both unheard of and discouraged for nurses of my level of inexperience, but PNM was working very hard to get me to dig myself into a hole, and she didn't care if she put any or all of the infants on the unit at risk to do it). As I stood looking out over the parking lot from the (now quiet) nursery's window, K. walked up beside me, put her hand on my shoulder and said "nice job...you're going to be good at this...if you can stand it much longer".
I almost (almost...I'm too stubborn to otherwise) cried.
As we continued to talk, I learned that K. was as unhappy with what she was doing as I was...I remember breathing a huge sigh of relief hearing her say she hated seeing women being "treated like cattle" - finally someone acknowledged how I felt!. When I asked her why she was still there, she told me she was apprenticing as a Direct Entry Midwife, and wouldn't be there much longer. She had thought about going back to school for a CNM, but she knew that she would be forced, in that capacity, to work within this system, and the system stunk. She was willing to give up her nursing license to do it.
That morning when I got home, I did my usual "tears on the pillow" dance with my husband, who had finally had enough. He demanded that I quit the job. When I said we couldn't afford it, he pretty much threw a temper tantrum. "God Damn it, I just got the rest of your life handed back to me back on a surgeon's knife, and I'm not going spend it with you miserable. You should have learned by now that life is too short, and not to put up with crap like this. Quit! We'll manage!"
I quit the next day. Took a letter into human resources regarding the situation, and got them to agree to let me use my vacation in lieu of notice (heard later that PNM got nailed for some of the behaviors I described in my letter...I was also congratulated on a "very professional" resignation letter - I had included rebuttals to demands that had been made of me regarding standard of care, and backed them up with references to research articles, quotes from the State Board of Nursing, etc...typical for me, couldn't just write a simple, one-page resignation letter...had to write a tome...but it worked for me). When I went back to my unit to collect my things from my locker, not one head lifted from whatever they were doing...the experienced nurses because so many of them were the complicit cronies of PNM; the new nurses because they knew not to piss off PNM by seeming to sympathize with me; certainly I got no acknowledgment from my new (or old) Preceptors, or the unit Trainers, and absolutely not from PNM; but I did get a warm, tearaful hug from K. "I'm happy for you, honey. You've made the right decision. You'll be a great labor nurse when you find the right fit. Keep the faith. Go be happy."
That soft, warm hug kept me buoyed for weeks until I landed my next job...which was wonderful, and which led me to my current job. I did keep the faith, because K. had faith. No, things have not been easy...I "live and learn" every day. PNM isn't the first "Nurse Ratched With an Agenda" that I've had to deal with...and she won't be the last...but each time I come up against one, I recognize them earlier, and quickly beat them at their own game. I now practice on my own terms, those that are supported by good research and established Standard of Care.
K. is now a practicing Certified Professional Midwife. The state board of nursing has made a few underhanded threats about taking her nursing license from her for "practicing medicine without a license", until finally she gave up that license...something she had worked very hard for...something she was rightly proud of...and that was valuable to her...so that she could not be challenged by them any longer.
Unfortunately, K. and so many other midwives like her have more to fear than the state board of nursing...but they keep the faith. They support my faith. K. supports my faith. I have the opportunity now, to run in to her from time to time when she transfers a client, or when we attend the same event. It is always wonderful to go get my next "hug" from her.
Thank you, K. You are a blessing among blessings,
A couple of weeks ago I was going through my email and opened a notice from a national list that I belong to. In one entry, the poster left a url to her Utube documentary of moments during her pregnancy and birthing. Lo and behold, when one picture captioned "My midwife" came across the screen, I actually clapped and cheered (a little...I mean, I was sitting alone at a keyboard in front of a computer monitor...didn't want to look like I was...emotionally challenged).
The picture was of a very special woman...a midwife who I met nearly 10 years ago when I was a brand new L&D nurse, and she was a "vet" nurse, having been on L&D for over 20 years.
That job was one of the most miserable jobs I have ever had. I had just put in my obligatory year of med/surge nursing where I had been very very successful, fresh out of college, when I transferred to where I had planned to be all along, labor and delivery.
First day out of the gate, I went into a total state of shock.
This was the late Nineties...I had "come of age" in the Seventies, in the era of "Our Bodies Ourselves", Ina May Gaskin, fighting for our rights in the hospital to have our partners at our side, to birth our babies naturally, without the fog of Scopalamine or Demerol, of immedate bonding and breastfeeding, of Bradley, Lamaze, and VBAC. Although I didn't give birth myself until nearly fifteen years later, I totally absorbed that mind set. I had pretty much gotten what I wanted when I gave birth for the first time in the late Eighties. I had no idea how much things had changed (read that regressed) in the "Self Empowerment in Birthing" school of thought. I was stunned at all the planned inductions, the "epidural as norm" attitude, and the relative ease with which the decision to perform a Cesarean Section was made. Honest to God, I even remember a physician sitting on the edge of the bed of a newly admitted, beautifully laboring multip, with a history of two vaginal births , then a c/section, and finally a successful VBAC, trying with all her might to convince the mother that it was too dangerous to "attempt" another VBAC, and that she should immediately prepare for surgery! She didn't, thank God, despite what was essentially a temper tantrum by her physician...the same physician who had attended her VBAC!!!!!
Needless to say, things didn't go well for me. I was simply aghast that mother's seemed to just accept drivel like this, few if any took childbirth preparation classes, or if they did, they managed to squeeze them in during an 8-hour marathon Saturday class, and that most of them wanted to "stop being pregnant" by 39 weeks, so they gladly scheduled their inductions, and the first question out of their mouths upon arrival was not "How soon can I breastfeed my baby", but "How soon can I get my epidural"? My sense of shock must have come across loud and clear, because I was not a favorite of the Assistant Nurse Manager or the Nurse Trainers on that floor. We butted heads over and over again. The Nurse Manager and I got along well...she knew where I was coming from. She was a woman who truly cared about both the patients on her unit, as well as her staff, but even she was struggling. Turns out that Ms. Assistant Nurse Manager had applied for the job, but had not gotten it because she didn't have the required Master's degree. The Trainers were her "homies" from years and years of working together. Together, they had as their mission in life to make the Nurse Manager's life miserable. Did I say I hated that Job? I hated, hated, hated it!
Three months into the job (I don't know how I even lasted that long) I was diagnosed with a serious surgical problem, and took a long (about another three months) sick leave post op. Somehow I managed to drag myself back to the unit after my leave, only to learn that, in my absence, the Nurse Manager had left for a position in the hospital I now work in, and Psycho Assistant Nurse Manager had inherited the job because no one else was willing to even apply for it!.
Crap. No, make that Shit! Shit, Shit, Shit! Sometimes, there's only one word that fits, and this is the one!
It took about three days before I was a complete basket case. PNM (Psycho Nurse Manager) decided that I needed to be "reoriented", since I had barely finished my orientation to the unit before I became sick. In other words, she wasn't going to let one of her predecessor's allies stay on her unit if she could help it. At the same time, she was making life miserable for her other "targets", many of whom decided to resign, and with each new space that opened, she brought in one of her "homies" from her former employer, a decrepit unit downtown that still practiced like they were in the dark ages. It was becoming a unit of battleaxes.
I don't know why I kept fighting. I'm very stubborn. I keep thinking that if I just try one more thing I'll be ableto "fix" whatever is going on that is not working. I have an uncanny way of making myself (and anyone close to me) nuts that way. Stupid, I know.
Enter K...othewise known as, "She Who Introduced Me to the Sanity of Hope and Knowing Myself".
One long, late, dark night on the unit I was working in the newborn nursery all alone (for of course, all mothers were encouraged to "rest" by leaving their newborns to cry it out in the nursery all night). I had just managed, as a new L&D nurse, to get the entire nursery (that night about a dozen babies) bathed, vaccinated, fed, tucked in and charted for the night (I came to find out later that this was both unheard of and discouraged for nurses of my level of inexperience, but PNM was working very hard to get me to dig myself into a hole, and she didn't care if she put any or all of the infants on the unit at risk to do it). As I stood looking out over the parking lot from the (now quiet) nursery's window, K. walked up beside me, put her hand on my shoulder and said "nice job...you're going to be good at this...if you can stand it much longer".
I almost (almost...I'm too stubborn to otherwise) cried.
As we continued to talk, I learned that K. was as unhappy with what she was doing as I was...I remember breathing a huge sigh of relief hearing her say she hated seeing women being "treated like cattle" - finally someone acknowledged how I felt!. When I asked her why she was still there, she told me she was apprenticing as a Direct Entry Midwife, and wouldn't be there much longer. She had thought about going back to school for a CNM, but she knew that she would be forced, in that capacity, to work within this system, and the system stunk. She was willing to give up her nursing license to do it.
That morning when I got home, I did my usual "tears on the pillow" dance with my husband, who had finally had enough. He demanded that I quit the job. When I said we couldn't afford it, he pretty much threw a temper tantrum. "God Damn it, I just got the rest of your life handed back to me back on a surgeon's knife, and I'm not going spend it with you miserable. You should have learned by now that life is too short, and not to put up with crap like this. Quit! We'll manage!"
I quit the next day. Took a letter into human resources regarding the situation, and got them to agree to let me use my vacation in lieu of notice (heard later that PNM got nailed for some of the behaviors I described in my letter...I was also congratulated on a "very professional" resignation letter - I had included rebuttals to demands that had been made of me regarding standard of care, and backed them up with references to research articles, quotes from the State Board of Nursing, etc...typical for me, couldn't just write a simple, one-page resignation letter...had to write a tome...but it worked for me). When I went back to my unit to collect my things from my locker, not one head lifted from whatever they were doing...the experienced nurses because so many of them were the complicit cronies of PNM; the new nurses because they knew not to piss off PNM by seeming to sympathize with me; certainly I got no acknowledgment from my new (or old) Preceptors, or the unit Trainers, and absolutely not from PNM; but I did get a warm, tearaful hug from K. "I'm happy for you, honey. You've made the right decision. You'll be a great labor nurse when you find the right fit. Keep the faith. Go be happy."
That soft, warm hug kept me buoyed for weeks until I landed my next job...which was wonderful, and which led me to my current job. I did keep the faith, because K. had faith. No, things have not been easy...I "live and learn" every day. PNM isn't the first "Nurse Ratched With an Agenda" that I've had to deal with...and she won't be the last...but each time I come up against one, I recognize them earlier, and quickly beat them at their own game. I now practice on my own terms, those that are supported by good research and established Standard of Care.
K. is now a practicing Certified Professional Midwife. The state board of nursing has made a few underhanded threats about taking her nursing license from her for "practicing medicine without a license", until finally she gave up that license...something she had worked very hard for...something she was rightly proud of...and that was valuable to her...so that she could not be challenged by them any longer.
Unfortunately, K. and so many other midwives like her have more to fear than the state board of nursing...but they keep the faith. They support my faith. K. supports my faith. I have the opportunity now, to run in to her from time to time when she transfers a client, or when we attend the same event. It is always wonderful to go get my next "hug" from her.
Thank you, K. You are a blessing among blessings,
Speaking of Communication...
Some people are just more skilled at (or creative about) it than others.
I am a very concrete thinker, and that comes across, sometimes too bluntly, in my communication style. Tact is not one of my finer skills...and that gets me in to hot water when I'm working with friends and families of laboring mothers.
We have a "three visitor" rule where I work...by policy, we allow only three people in the room during labor and birth. We're a major high risk referral unit...that floor is absolutely hoppin most of the time, and with a lot of our patients, it means we have to move fast at times...and there are a lot of us in the room doing it...so we can't exactly have everyone from Great Grandpa, down to big sis's latest newborn progeny in the room...either someone's gonna get trampled, or precious minutes are going to be lost that can mean the difference between a good or poor outcome. BIRTH IS NOT A SPECTATOR SPORT. For those whose hackles I raise when I say this, let me tell you that, at nearly every labor I have attended where a huge conglomeration of family and friends hung around during labor, most, if not all of the crowd were gone...vamoosed...as soon as Junior or Juniorette made his or her way past Mom's perineum...seriously...most people seem to just want to get a goggle at the emergence of this little alien from the mother's body, and then the show's over...they are out of the room before Mom is even out of stirrups (yes, they use them where I work, I hate it, but it's just how they do it), leaving her and her partner (if there is one...I have often see a family leave a mother totally alone) still dazed about what has happened to them. So, I don't think I'm being unreasonable when make that statement...because, more often than not, that's exactly how the onlookers are treating the situation.
It's also difficult to enforce this policy when Mom is sick. For example...when Mom has preeclampsia. The high blood pressures that a mother can experience with this illness can deprive her brain and nervous system of oxygen...when we treat a mother for preeclampsia, we're only buying time until we can effect a cure the only way that it can be effected...by ending the pregnancy (more specifically delivering the placenta, which is where current thought leads us to believe the problem originates, and of course, if the placenta is coming out, so is baby). In the mean time, Mom is at risk for seizures; so we keep the lights and noise down in the room, so as not to add to the problem of an already overstimulated nervous system. It doesn't help things when there are half-a-dozen or more family members, some of them with cranky toddlers in tow, coming in and out of the room, talking and laughing, eating, schmoozing, switching on the lights and television, and in general, acting like they are at a social event.
Over and over again I've explained to families, as gently as I can, why we need to keep the room clear of debris and extra bodies, so that, if need be, we can move fast...or so that we can keep Mom calm and resting. Things will quiet down for a while, and then, little by little, people tend to drift back in, and the noise level drifts back up. What gives? How many times can I explain things? How many signs do we have to post? Do they not believe that the risks I am pointing out to them exist? Maybe it's one of those "for other people not us" frames of mind. I can only guess. Anyone have any suggestions for Nurse Ratched here? I think I'm being nice when I explain. I try to be!
But those are my complaints. Patients and their families have legitimate complaints as well (doh). Sometimes they just aren't "meshing" with their nurse...or worse, the nurse is being a "b*&%$"...it's been known to happen...we all have our bad days (nights), and some of us seem to just hate our job, pure and simple (why these people stay in the job, I'll never be able to understand...I mean, nurses are among the most employable workers I know...there has to be something out there that they would rather do). There have been times on our floor when a Mother or family will ask (pleasantly or not so pleasantly) for another nurse; and we try to accommodate them...but it's not always easy...and sometimes we, probably because we've been asked in a way that we've allowed to get our defenses up, will allow ourselves to believe, and attempt to convince the family that, this just isn't possible (due to staffing, etc).
C. to the rescue...some people are just gifted in this way. Her advice to her Doula clients when a personality conflict (or worse) comes up...send someone out to the nurses station, ask to see the charge nurse, and with a smile and complicit sort of tone, say "I'm sorry to have to ask this, I know you are busy...but...this is so awkward...our nurse looks exactly like (my ex wife or, my abusive mother-in-law, etc.)
Of course, while C. is suggesting this, everyone in the room is roaring with laughter...but how could it not work? I'd move Heaven and Hell to relieve my laboring mother of her current nurse if I thought this was the situation.
Like I've said...some people (unfortunately, not me...I'm still [hopefully] evolving...are just plain gifted.
If only we could all be.
I am a very concrete thinker, and that comes across, sometimes too bluntly, in my communication style. Tact is not one of my finer skills...and that gets me in to hot water when I'm working with friends and families of laboring mothers.
We have a "three visitor" rule where I work...by policy, we allow only three people in the room during labor and birth. We're a major high risk referral unit...that floor is absolutely hoppin most of the time, and with a lot of our patients, it means we have to move fast at times...and there are a lot of us in the room doing it...so we can't exactly have everyone from Great Grandpa, down to big sis's latest newborn progeny in the room...either someone's gonna get trampled, or precious minutes are going to be lost that can mean the difference between a good or poor outcome. BIRTH IS NOT A SPECTATOR SPORT. For those whose hackles I raise when I say this, let me tell you that, at nearly every labor I have attended where a huge conglomeration of family and friends hung around during labor, most, if not all of the crowd were gone...vamoosed...as soon as Junior or Juniorette made his or her way past Mom's perineum...seriously...most people seem to just want to get a goggle at the emergence of this little alien from the mother's body, and then the show's over...they are out of the room before Mom is even out of stirrups (yes, they use them where I work, I hate it, but it's just how they do it), leaving her and her partner (if there is one...I have often see a family leave a mother totally alone) still dazed about what has happened to them. So, I don't think I'm being unreasonable when make that statement...because, more often than not, that's exactly how the onlookers are treating the situation.
It's also difficult to enforce this policy when Mom is sick. For example...when Mom has preeclampsia. The high blood pressures that a mother can experience with this illness can deprive her brain and nervous system of oxygen...when we treat a mother for preeclampsia, we're only buying time until we can effect a cure the only way that it can be effected...by ending the pregnancy (more specifically delivering the placenta, which is where current thought leads us to believe the problem originates, and of course, if the placenta is coming out, so is baby). In the mean time, Mom is at risk for seizures; so we keep the lights and noise down in the room, so as not to add to the problem of an already overstimulated nervous system. It doesn't help things when there are half-a-dozen or more family members, some of them with cranky toddlers in tow, coming in and out of the room, talking and laughing, eating, schmoozing, switching on the lights and television, and in general, acting like they are at a social event.
Over and over again I've explained to families, as gently as I can, why we need to keep the room clear of debris and extra bodies, so that, if need be, we can move fast...or so that we can keep Mom calm and resting. Things will quiet down for a while, and then, little by little, people tend to drift back in, and the noise level drifts back up. What gives? How many times can I explain things? How many signs do we have to post? Do they not believe that the risks I am pointing out to them exist? Maybe it's one of those "for other people not us" frames of mind. I can only guess. Anyone have any suggestions for Nurse Ratched here? I think I'm being nice when I explain. I try to be!
But those are my complaints. Patients and their families have legitimate complaints as well (doh). Sometimes they just aren't "meshing" with their nurse...or worse, the nurse is being a "b*&%$"...it's been known to happen...we all have our bad days (nights), and some of us seem to just hate our job, pure and simple (why these people stay in the job, I'll never be able to understand...I mean, nurses are among the most employable workers I know...there has to be something out there that they would rather do). There have been times on our floor when a Mother or family will ask (pleasantly or not so pleasantly) for another nurse; and we try to accommodate them...but it's not always easy...and sometimes we, probably because we've been asked in a way that we've allowed to get our defenses up, will allow ourselves to believe, and attempt to convince the family that, this just isn't possible (due to staffing, etc).
C. to the rescue...some people are just gifted in this way. Her advice to her Doula clients when a personality conflict (or worse) comes up...send someone out to the nurses station, ask to see the charge nurse, and with a smile and complicit sort of tone, say "I'm sorry to have to ask this, I know you are busy...but...this is so awkward...our nurse looks exactly like (my ex wife or, my abusive mother-in-law, etc.)
Of course, while C. is suggesting this, everyone in the room is roaring with laughter...but how could it not work? I'd move Heaven and Hell to relieve my laboring mother of her current nurse if I thought this was the situation.
Like I've said...some people (unfortunately, not me...I'm still [hopefully] evolving...are just plain gifted.
If only we could all be.
Communicate, Communicate, Communicate...
But do it well...do it honestly...and allow for the inevitable misunderstandings.
This I learned (or relearned, as I will forever continue to), a few days ago when I had the opportunity to attend a meeting of our local ICAN (International Cesarean Awareness Network) group. The group met in a room at the offices of the midwives I referred to in my last (and much too distant) post. I had the opportunity to spend time with one of the midwives.
My friend C. was with me. Ever the diplomat, C., after the meeting was over and we had a few moments to gab after the meeting ended, was able to gently approach the topic with the midwife. Interestingly enough, the news was just that...news to them. Even more "interesting" was her comment that the physician who they had been collaborating with was continuing to do so, long after the partners had decided that they no longer supported the collaboration.
So what is the solution? I'm not sure there is one that will make everyone happy. I'm more than a little frustrated that the collaborating physician doesn't seem to be more up front with his partners...a little passive aggressive perhaps? Who knows? Not an unheard of trait in the All-American-Male. The midwife feels that she and her partners have been as diplomatic as possible when transferring care...and I believe her...I've trusted her judgement and skills for years, and nothing has changed that for me; but a mother in labor and her family are not always in the most reasonable state of mind during a transfer...they don't always hear what is being said..and they are not always able to respond completely rationally...labor takes us out of the corporeal world and places us somewhere between earthly ground and some other plane; and perhaps that is where the misunderstandings began to originate...again, who knows?.
What I do know is this; that there are so many underlying prejudices, memories of past experiences, and motivations that lead us to understand or respond to a situation in whatever way we do, that trying to predict how any particular exchange of communication is going to turn out is, well, unpredictable. The only thing we can do is try very, very hard to listen when someone is speaking to us, and not let our own agenda ("I must have a vaginal [natural, unmedicated, monitor-free, {whatever}] birth", or, "If they wear scrubs, I'm not sure I can trust them") get in the way of what is being said. On the other hand, we can't let it (that agenda...and we all have one, to some extent) color what we are saying ("This is my decision, I'll do/say what I think is appropriate" - [despite the fact that life doesn't always cooperate with our plans]).
Do I think that this is what ultimately conspired? To some extent, yes; to just how much of an extent I can't know...I wasn't there, and I don't know all of the participants well. I'm glad though, that because of C.'s amazingly effective way of getting her point across without triggering the defenses of the person she is speaking to, that the midwives, their clients, and the physician in question just might be a little closer to forming a collaboration that can continue.
I know I said this once before...but, I can hope, can't I?
This I learned (or relearned, as I will forever continue to), a few days ago when I had the opportunity to attend a meeting of our local ICAN (International Cesarean Awareness Network) group. The group met in a room at the offices of the midwives I referred to in my last (and much too distant) post. I had the opportunity to spend time with one of the midwives.
My friend C. was with me. Ever the diplomat, C., after the meeting was over and we had a few moments to gab after the meeting ended, was able to gently approach the topic with the midwife. Interestingly enough, the news was just that...news to them. Even more "interesting" was her comment that the physician who they had been collaborating with was continuing to do so, long after the partners had decided that they no longer supported the collaboration.
So what is the solution? I'm not sure there is one that will make everyone happy. I'm more than a little frustrated that the collaborating physician doesn't seem to be more up front with his partners...a little passive aggressive perhaps? Who knows? Not an unheard of trait in the All-American-Male. The midwife feels that she and her partners have been as diplomatic as possible when transferring care...and I believe her...I've trusted her judgement and skills for years, and nothing has changed that for me; but a mother in labor and her family are not always in the most reasonable state of mind during a transfer...they don't always hear what is being said..and they are not always able to respond completely rationally...labor takes us out of the corporeal world and places us somewhere between earthly ground and some other plane; and perhaps that is where the misunderstandings began to originate...again, who knows?.
What I do know is this; that there are so many underlying prejudices, memories of past experiences, and motivations that lead us to understand or respond to a situation in whatever way we do, that trying to predict how any particular exchange of communication is going to turn out is, well, unpredictable. The only thing we can do is try very, very hard to listen when someone is speaking to us, and not let our own agenda ("I must have a vaginal [natural, unmedicated, monitor-free, {whatever}] birth", or, "If they wear scrubs, I'm not sure I can trust them") get in the way of what is being said. On the other hand, we can't let it (that agenda...and we all have one, to some extent) color what we are saying ("This is my decision, I'll do/say what I think is appropriate" - [despite the fact that life doesn't always cooperate with our plans]).
Do I think that this is what ultimately conspired? To some extent, yes; to just how much of an extent I can't know...I wasn't there, and I don't know all of the participants well. I'm glad though, that because of C.'s amazingly effective way of getting her point across without triggering the defenses of the person she is speaking to, that the midwives, their clients, and the physician in question just might be a little closer to forming a collaboration that can continue.
I know I said this once before...but, I can hope, can't I?
Saturday, July 26, 2008
A Letter To My Beloved Midwife Friends
My Dears K, N, A, and T....
I love you guys...you know I do. I can't thank you enough for being there when I get saturated with medically managed, high risk births, and you spend entire afternoons with me reminding me "how it's done" when things are blissfully normal, helping me regain my perspective; but sadly, things are not always normal, even during some of the births you attend, and you have to transfer.
I was so pleased that you had found an M.D. to back you up....not an easy (heck, pretty much impossible) thing to do in this overly conservative area; but now that backup is being taken away.
And why?
Now, I'm getting this information second hand (it might even be third hand), but I trust the source I got it from implicitly, although I'm allowing for a margin of error in the sending vs. receiving of the communication that it took to trickle down to me; but it seems that Dr. H.'s partners are frustrated that their decisions were being second guessed when you would arrive the hospital with your client, and they were on call instead of him. An example that was given to me went something like this; when the Docs expected continuous monitoring, they got comments like "But Dr. H. says we don't have to have that"...and similar stories.
Oh my treasured friends! You know better than this! As incredibly knowledgeable and skilled as you are, once you and your client decide to transfer, you are no longer on your own turf. By definition, the pregnancy of the woman you are caring for has now become high (well, at least higher) risk, which takes you out of the care provider position, and places you into the support position. I know I'm not telling you anything new; but perhaps because Dr.H. has been so easy going and laid back when you came in, you assumed that his partners would be as well.
Not so. In my albeit distant and limited experience with all three of these physicians, they each have their own style of managing their patients. As with any practice, if a woman in labor comes in and her own physician is not the one on call, some compromises are going to have to be made if the other physician has not been consulted on the birth plans. At the very least there is going to have to be, if there is the time for it, some gentle discussion of whether or not she is comfortable providing care the way you assumed Dr. H. would. Keep in mind that you can't really be certain what decision's Dr. H. might have made...depending on the reason for your transfer, he might have insisted on continuous monitoring as well.
I can't speak for any of these physicians, any more than I can speak for any of you; and although I am well aware that our area is full of intervention-happy Docs who would just as soon have you prosecuted as look at you, I don't believe that every doctor out there is out to deny a pregnant or laboring woman her right to make well-informed decisions about her own body, her own baby, and her own birthing; but I do believe that every doctor has a right to practice in a way in which he or she is most comfortable...in a way that does not compromise their values, and that protects them from a lawsuit that could jeopardize their license, their practice, their family, and their employees and their families.
This is only fair.
If we want the medical community to respect us as collaborators, then we have to collaborate. We would not want them coming into a client's home and insisting on lithotomy position for the birth, or forbidding any food or drink in labor; in kind, we should not be insisting that they practice in a way that compromises their comfort level when a client is transferred into their care. Some compromises are going to have to be made, and the client needs to be made aware of this.
I know that, once a client is transferred, you feel very protective of her...that you want to advocate for her; but in truth, the legalities in this situation are that only a client (or her family) can advocate for herself. The fact that a transfer has taken place, in and of itself, is a clear indication that the client's hopes and expectations for her birth are not going to be completely met. It's a sad reality that we can't always have what we want, no matter how hard we try. Remember that old adage...how do you make God (the Universe, etc.) laugh? Plan something.
Life is unpredictable; the beginning life, as you all have experienced over and over, is equally unpredictable. Given the love and support of her treasured midwives, a client encountering a disappointment in her birth experience can be helped to feel the joy and beauty of her baby's birth, no matter how that birth is accomplished. True, the personnel of the hospital you transfer to may not be as supportive as we would like them to be; but that comes as no surprise to any of us; we know what kind of environment you are likely to encounter once the decision to transfer is made. Of course things could be done better than they are currently being done...but we aren't going to be able to achieve change with the one birth that is currently in question. It will take dozens and dozens of delicately handled transfers for the medical community at large to even begin to trust, respect, and cooperate with you. It's just the unfortunate reality that we have to accept right now.
Maybe it's not too late. This was a wonderful opportunity for collaboration; given Dr. H.'s respect in the community at large, once it became known that he was willing to back you up, maybe others would be willing to open their minds to the possibility (although I remember the situation with Dr.S. from years ago, and my hope is diminished somewhat). Maybe a well-written letter of apology and compromise, along with a request to meet and discuss the situation might change things for the better.
I can hope, can't I?
Blessings and Love,
K.
I love you guys...you know I do. I can't thank you enough for being there when I get saturated with medically managed, high risk births, and you spend entire afternoons with me reminding me "how it's done" when things are blissfully normal, helping me regain my perspective; but sadly, things are not always normal, even during some of the births you attend, and you have to transfer.
I was so pleased that you had found an M.D. to back you up....not an easy (heck, pretty much impossible) thing to do in this overly conservative area; but now that backup is being taken away.
And why?
Now, I'm getting this information second hand (it might even be third hand), but I trust the source I got it from implicitly, although I'm allowing for a margin of error in the sending vs. receiving of the communication that it took to trickle down to me; but it seems that Dr. H.'s partners are frustrated that their decisions were being second guessed when you would arrive the hospital with your client, and they were on call instead of him. An example that was given to me went something like this; when the Docs expected continuous monitoring, they got comments like "But Dr. H. says we don't have to have that"...and similar stories.
Oh my treasured friends! You know better than this! As incredibly knowledgeable and skilled as you are, once you and your client decide to transfer, you are no longer on your own turf. By definition, the pregnancy of the woman you are caring for has now become high (well, at least higher) risk, which takes you out of the care provider position, and places you into the support position. I know I'm not telling you anything new; but perhaps because Dr.H. has been so easy going and laid back when you came in, you assumed that his partners would be as well.
Not so. In my albeit distant and limited experience with all three of these physicians, they each have their own style of managing their patients. As with any practice, if a woman in labor comes in and her own physician is not the one on call, some compromises are going to have to be made if the other physician has not been consulted on the birth plans. At the very least there is going to have to be, if there is the time for it, some gentle discussion of whether or not she is comfortable providing care the way you assumed Dr. H. would. Keep in mind that you can't really be certain what decision's Dr. H. might have made...depending on the reason for your transfer, he might have insisted on continuous monitoring as well.
I can't speak for any of these physicians, any more than I can speak for any of you; and although I am well aware that our area is full of intervention-happy Docs who would just as soon have you prosecuted as look at you, I don't believe that every doctor out there is out to deny a pregnant or laboring woman her right to make well-informed decisions about her own body, her own baby, and her own birthing; but I do believe that every doctor has a right to practice in a way in which he or she is most comfortable...in a way that does not compromise their values, and that protects them from a lawsuit that could jeopardize their license, their practice, their family, and their employees and their families.
This is only fair.
If we want the medical community to respect us as collaborators, then we have to collaborate. We would not want them coming into a client's home and insisting on lithotomy position for the birth, or forbidding any food or drink in labor; in kind, we should not be insisting that they practice in a way that compromises their comfort level when a client is transferred into their care. Some compromises are going to have to be made, and the client needs to be made aware of this.
I know that, once a client is transferred, you feel very protective of her...that you want to advocate for her; but in truth, the legalities in this situation are that only a client (or her family) can advocate for herself. The fact that a transfer has taken place, in and of itself, is a clear indication that the client's hopes and expectations for her birth are not going to be completely met. It's a sad reality that we can't always have what we want, no matter how hard we try. Remember that old adage...how do you make God (the Universe, etc.) laugh? Plan something.
Life is unpredictable; the beginning life, as you all have experienced over and over, is equally unpredictable. Given the love and support of her treasured midwives, a client encountering a disappointment in her birth experience can be helped to feel the joy and beauty of her baby's birth, no matter how that birth is accomplished. True, the personnel of the hospital you transfer to may not be as supportive as we would like them to be; but that comes as no surprise to any of us; we know what kind of environment you are likely to encounter once the decision to transfer is made. Of course things could be done better than they are currently being done...but we aren't going to be able to achieve change with the one birth that is currently in question. It will take dozens and dozens of delicately handled transfers for the medical community at large to even begin to trust, respect, and cooperate with you. It's just the unfortunate reality that we have to accept right now.
Maybe it's not too late. This was a wonderful opportunity for collaboration; given Dr. H.'s respect in the community at large, once it became known that he was willing to back you up, maybe others would be willing to open their minds to the possibility (although I remember the situation with Dr.S. from years ago, and my hope is diminished somewhat). Maybe a well-written letter of apology and compromise, along with a request to meet and discuss the situation might change things for the better.
I can hope, can't I?
Blessings and Love,
K.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
And Now for a Word from Our Sponsor...
From reading other blogs of L&D nurses, I’ve begun to realize that things are pretty much the same all over the country. So, instead of attempting to rewrite what has already so elegantly been done, I now turn this blog over to my online friend at At Your Cervix… L&D nurse extraordinaire, future midwife, and all around “Good-ole-girl”. These are her words…I could only hope to be able to so clearly depict the realities of this “Love it, but Hate it” job
“Which leads me to some of my gripes and concerns about coming to L&D triage.
- Don't ask for food immediately - it's not happening - think about it - you're here
- because of pain, leaking fluid, vaginal bleeding, preterm labor, n/v/d, or for whatever reason. You will NOT be automatically given food upon arrival, and chances are good you won't get food while you're here on L&D. The best you can hope for is some clear liquids, unless your doctor allows you to eat. And if you can eat, chances are you don't need the level of care required on L&D. (Ed. Note…and no, we can’t provide a meal to your mother, your boyfriend, or your kids…I’m sorry they are hungry and you didn’t have time to feed them. I’m hungry because there are six more women here just like you, a dozen more sitting in the waiting room, we’re understaffed, and none of us in L&D are going to get a meal break tonight.)
- Triage means: you will be evaluated, and seen according to severity. Your stomach virus is a lower priority than the preterm patient who is ruptured.
- If you're not in active labor, expect to be sent home. Home is more comfortable than a small stretcher in a room with 4 other women who are also being triaged.
- I'm not here to cater to your every whim. I am caring for multiple women, with multiple problems. I have to prioritize, so do not be upset if I can't get you that cup of water immediately. There is only one nurse in triage. I cannot be everywhere.
- There are no TV's in triage on purpose - to discourage you from staying any longer than needed. Plus, I also need to be able to hear all 5 EFM monitors simultaneously. I cannot do that with 5 TV's blaring at full volume.
- Each person may have ONE visitor with them. The triage bays are too small to accommodate your entire family.
- Speaking of which, just WHY did your friend/family member drag your 1 yr old child out to the hospital at 10pm? (ed. Note…or 2:00 A.M., tired, fussy, hungry?)
- I really don't care about how tired you are of being pregnant when you're 32 weeks along. You won't be admitted and induced because of this. In fact, you're here because we're trying to STOP your preterm labor. You really want a baby subjected to being in the NICU for weeks?
- If you can't urinate on your own for the urine sample I need from you, I can easily use a catheter. But you don't really want that, right? Because I don't want to have to catheterize you unless I absolutely need to. It hurts too much. So please drink the fluids I've given you to help you produce urine for the specimen.
- I'm glad you have signed your tubal ligation papers, but I'm not worried about that right now.
- I'm going to keep my mouth shut when this is baby #4, and you're only 21. And the father of this current baby wants 10 more babies, because "they're so cute." And he doesn't work. Neither do you. Great.
- I'm also going to keep my mouth shut when you presented to prenatal care only 1 week ago at 38 weeks, and you're in active labor today. Oh yeah, and you have 3 different STD's to boot. And the baby has a cardiac defect. And this was NOT your first pregnancy, so you knew better. But I will keep my mouth shut, even when I want to lecture you about good, early prenatal care.
- Don't expect an epidural upon arrival - when your cervix is closed/thick/high, and your contractions are every 20 minutes. You're going home, because you're not in labor!
- Please don't bring in your suitcase when you are the above patient. You're just going to have to lug it back to the car when you leave. Besides, it also takes up precious room in triage, and I need to be able to get to the fetal monitor to care for you and your baby. (Ed. Note…ditto the car seat…your not-yet-born baby’s car seat belongs, duh, IN THE CAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
- Thank you for bearing with me when I've made you wait for that drink of water. I appreciate the "thank you" that you gave me when I was finally able to get it for you. I apologize for it taking so long.
- Thank you for not arguing with both your doctor and then myself, when your doctor has discharged you home. Thank you for realizing that you don't need to be admitted today.
- Thank you for listening intently to my discharge instructions, and asking intelligent questions to clarify any concerns. This shows that you are actively listening to my teaching.”
- (Ed. Note…and thank you for looking at me with suspicion every time I make a request, perform a treatment, relay information to you from the doctor…I really am here to help you. If you distrust us so much, why are you here? We’re not the only L&D in town…
- Ed. Note continued…yeah, yeah, I know, you’re gonna sue _________Hospital, because they were so stupid as to tell you that you are not in labor…guess you’re gonna have to add us to that claim, because YOU’RE NOT IN LABOR!!! Fine, drive on over to ________ Hospital, five miles further up the road…they’re going to tell you the same thing…and I just LOVE knowing my tax dollars are paying for your waste of hospital resources for absolutely nothing! By the way…don’t you have better things to be doing at 3:00 A.M. in the middle of the week than shopping for some hospital that will admit you because you are “tired of being pregnant”?...like, perhaps, SLEEP?)
- Ed. Note, continued, one last time…for one of my personal favorites…
L&D RN…”When did your vaginal bleeding start?”
Answer…”About an hour ago”.
L&D RN…”Did you soak more than one menstrual pad?”
Answer...”Uhm…I didn’t use a pad…but there’s this spot on my underwear…
[L&D RN squints to see the pin-sized, pink dot on pts underwear, which patient happily whips off and holds up in the air].
L&D RN “When did you have sex last?”
Answer (giggling, looking up at snickering boyfriend…”About an hour ago”.
Here, another gem from At Your Cervix (catchy blog name, isn’t it? Wish I had thought of it, but that’s just how clever this writer is).
She arrived via ambulance. 18 years old, pregnant with her first baby. This was by far not her first visit with us, nor was it the first time she utilized the ambulance service to grace us with her presence.
"What brings you to L&D tonight?" I ask her, my standard opening line.
"My water broke."
Hmm, ok. I do my usual assessment and evaluation. Chief complaint of large gush of fluid x 1 at 3pm. Not wearing a pad on arrival, nor is she currently leaking any fluid. She's also smiling. Started having "contractions" while in the ambulance on the way here, now rating them 5 out of 5 on the pain scale.
(You haven't felt pain at a 5 out of 5 yet honey, I think to myself. Note that she's still smiling.)
She also mentions to me that the doctor in the clinic "broke my membranes" today. Hmm, at 9am, the time of her appointment? And she's just now coming in with c/o ruptured membranes at 3pm? I don't think so.
I try to clarify things with her a bit, "The doctor today must have stripped your membranes in the clinic, because she would have never broken your membranes on purpose in the clinic - it's just never done that way. Also, if she broke your membranes, it would have been accidentally, and she would have sent you over to us on L&D immediately for monitoring."
But no, she insists that the doc "broke my membranes" in the clinic at 9am, then then her "water broke" at 3pm. We're not talking about the highest on the genetic chain of life here, if you get my drift.
"So, why did you call an ambulance?" I question her.
Her mother answers, "well, we couldn't find anyone to drive her here. And besides, her insurance pays for the ambulance." I note "medicaid" under her insurance company in her demographics paperwork.
I try REALLY HARD to bite my tongue.
When later letting her doctor know that she's arrived, her doc even mentioned that the doc the patient saw in the clinic that day told the patient POINT BLANK - DO NOT CALL AN AMBULANCE, call for a taxi if you can't get a ride in to the hospital.
Oh yeah, and the doc stripped her membranes in the clinic that morning. For which, I wanted to verbally lash said doc, because this patient was only 37 weeks gestation.
In the end, the patient's membranes were intact, and she was sent home - without the luxury of a taxi - I mean an ambulance - to bring her home.
+++
Comments re: taxi/ambulance service abuse
Recently, in the comments section regarding use and abuse of the "taxi" aka ambulance services, there was this comment:
Thea said...
"What, no room at the inn tonight? It's sad when someone's career slowly strips them of compassion. Have you ever tried to get around without a car for any decent amount of time? Do you know what it's like, truthfully? Have you been 18 and pregnant? Do you have a clue?"
And here is my response:
"Thea - actually, I do know what it's like to be pregnant as a teen - twice. I had my first child at age 15, and my second at age 18. I wasn't bashing her for being pregnant as a teen, because I've been there myself twice. I was, however, upset - and rightfully so - that young women like herself will abuse the ambulance and hospital services like this. I had yet another ambulance abuser come in last night at work. It happens almost every single day! They don't care, because their "insurance" pays for it - well who pays for that? We do - the working class.
I have also been on state aid - for my pregnancy at age 18, only because my then husband did not have health insurance at his job. I knew the importance of prenatal care, and went to a clinic to receive it. Did we abuse services? No, absolutely not.
What really, really pisses me off, is the fact that after the ambulance brings the patient in, her entire entourage of family and friends DRIVE IN BEHIND HER! Or, like last night, the family members arrive BEFORE the ambulance does!
Add up the costs - ambulance ride: bare minimum of several hundred dollars. Eval time in triage at the hospital - minimum $750 for basic services, double that when we charge for an NST as well. That's a total of close to $2000 (including ambulance services) that the taxpayers pay. And 9 out of 10 times, the patient is sent home.
Now, multiply that by numerous instances by the same patient. Now multiply that by numerous patients who abuse the system the same exact way.
And that's just ONE hospital.
And people wonder why the health care spending and industry is out of control????"”
(Ed. Note…[but then, you knew this was coming, didn’t you?...You know, if you are pregnant in this town, and you call the squad to your house, they have to transport you…even if your husband/fiancé/boyfriend, who has a perfectly running car sitting in the driveway, didn’t want to be bothered because he just got off work, and he was too “tired” to drive you in, or your mother (who also has a decent car sitting in the driveway) was cooking dinner and wanted to finish her meal before driving you in…so there they sit, in the recliner in the living room, or at the kitchen table, watching nonchalantly as the medics load you up on a cart and take you out to the squad. I sure hope there isn’t a serious problem going on in your neighborhood right now…like some one having a heart attack, who just might die because your significant other was too tired or your mother didn’t want her Rice-A-Roni to get cold! And, since you are not in labor, and you are not truly sick, and neither is your baby, we are sending you home, and no, we aren’t going to give you a taxi pass…CALL YOUR MOTHER!)
END OF RANT (with mucho thanks to ATC)
Monday, July 21, 2008
Equal Time...
...for nurses, residents, and physicians who work in obstetrics. In my last post I used a lengthy and extreme (but for all intents and purposes...had to change some facts to remain HIPPA compliant...true) example to whine about families who come to the hospital with expectations that they did not educate themselves about beforehand.
Well, now for the other (at least an other side) of the issue. It frustrates me how few nurses and physicians are vehemently anti-homebirth, (or any other kind of "alternative" birth) based on non-existent (e.i., their opinion), or poor research.
For a long time, all homebirth advocates had to rely 0n in terms of published research to back up their point of view was the "Tew" study, ( British Journal Obstet Gynaecol 1986 Jul;93(7):659-74) which is now over 20 years old. In a world where research over five years old is considered outdated, regardless of how well designed and carried out it may be, this is no longer going to cut it; nor are subsequent studies performed in the ninties. Now we have the Johnson/Daviss study ( BMJ 2005;330:1416 (18 June), doi:10.1136/bmj.330.7505.14), obviously much more recent, which, even in it's criticism of it's own limitations, makes a very good case for the safety of homebirth.
So why do so many of the people I work with not know about this study, or any of the others? Why do they think that the "homebirthers" out there are uneducated women who place more value on their experience than on the safety of their baby? Why do they make fun of women who choose to give birth in any number of ways that does not jive with the "norm" of being limited in movement by I.V.s and fetal monitoring equipment, no eating or drinking in labor (not even clear liquids, heck, not even popsicles! Does someone want to tell me what the difference between one contraband popsicle and half a dozen cups of "allowed" ice chips is?), pushing in lithotomy position while holding breath, who question the need for Pitocin if they are otherwise healthy and not post-term, etc? (Yeah, I know, it's a run-on sentence, but make some allowances for passion, OK?).
In a discussion I once overheard between several of our residents and one of our attendings regarding the "trend" of waterbirth, I heard the attending exclaim "and what if you get a shoulder dystocia while you are in the water, then you are screwed!"...(uhmm, excuse me, ever heard of theGaskinManeuver???...aside from the fact that "shoulders" are more likely to occur in lithotomy position).
Recently, a doula friend of mine told me about one of her clients who asked her physician (a woman who is an excellent diagnostician, and extremely skilled surgeon, and a favorite of many of the nurses where I work - including me - who chose her to deliver their own children) if she could push in a squatting position if she felt so inclined at the time. The physician said that she wouldn't be able to have clear access for catching the baby if mom chose to do so (hmmm...how so, when the mother would be several inches above the line of view if she pushed while squatting on the bed? I bet a lot of midwives would be surprised to hear that). This particular physician is part of a huge and popular practice, so I doubt that the loss of this one patient made much of a difference to her professionally, but I wonder if it made a difference to her personally? The mother subsequently gave birth to her baby at an outlying level-one hospital, in water, attended by a physician who is gaining in popularity because he seems willing to listen to his patients, and if nothing else, empathize with them. He managed to be able to have clear enough access to deliver this child, from the floor (I assume), and through water that, in all likelihood, became at least a little murky with the fluids of birth emerging with the baby. In the first situation, a woman denied a choice to another woman, seemingly for her own personal comfort. In the second, a physician who did not have the back up of countless residents and multiple ORs felt confident enough, and was willing to respect this mother's wishes. Professionally, this gentleman is very respected where I work. He doesn't transfer cases to us just because he would rather not deal with them, he doesn't take unnecessary risks with the cases he does transfer, and the attendings that I work with just seem to like him in general...he's a "buddy" to many of them; but there were more than a few raised eyebrows when I bragged that "hey, he's willing to do it, why aren't we?" I don't think it changed their opinion of him at all...but he's certainly not holding to the status quo, and I wonder how that is going over (unsuccessfully trying not to gloat here)?
As for waterbirth? Most of the nurses I work with think it's "gross"...I mean, you can get poop in the water (as if they don't see enough poop when the mother is up in stirrups); or, all that blood and goo in the water (what, they've never had to deal with blood and goo in this job?)! Can we get consistent here folks?
I once had a patient that didn't want pitocin routinely run in after she delivered her placenta. This was written on her (albeit, a little too long for my tastes) birthplan. When one of the nurses I work with, one who does a lot of training no less, asked "Why didn't she want Pit after she delivered?", the following conversation took place between the two of us:
"Because she didn't need it".
"She didn't need it?" (I knew I was being baited here, but I couldn't resist...)
"No. No one was yanking on her placenta, so she didn't need it".
"What do you mean?" (more baiting, my irritation and irrational need to win every
"argument" taking over),
"C'mon, C, you know better...left alone, a healthy one will come out on its own, you don't need traction, and there won't be any excess bleeding to worry about".
"I don't believe that"
"Of course you don't".
"Before we started using Pit after delivery, what was the main thing women died of
in childbirth?"
"If they were otherwise healthy? Infection"
"No it wasn't...it was hemorrhage!"
"You need to go back and reread your nursing school OB textbook".
Rolled eyes, sighs, shaking head, clucking tongue...tough having a "substandard" nurse like me on the unit.
And while I'm on a roll (am I ever not?)...about infection; we've recently been required to go to "handwashing" seminars, seeing as how insurance companies are planning to deny coverage should any of their insured's end up with hospital aquired infections (another lengthy post to come on this, I guaruntee). During the presentation, the well-known (I thought) story of Dr. Ignaz Semmelweis, the physician who originated the "germ theory of disease", based on his observations of the rate of puerpural infection when physicians treating pregnant women washed their hands between corpses and other patients and the laboring and postpartum patients. I assume we all know the outcome of this story? I assume we all know the story???? Evidently not...I was amazed at the number of nurses who had no familiarity with the story! Didn't this anecdote open most of our Med/Surge, Microbiology, Obsetrical, and Community Health texts, way back in nursing school? Sigh.
By the way...the aforementioned patient whose placenta so elegantly slid out without traction, and whose body (shockingly) required no Pitocin to keep its immedate postpartum blood loss under 300 mls, had been laboring most of the time on her hands and knees. True, it was a PITA to keep her baby on the monitor, but we managed. Just about when I thought my arm would fall off though, the same nurse I would soon have the previously mentioned conversation with came in to help with the delivery (so, we have our differences, but for the most part, we're always there for each other...just like any dysfunctional family). The doc was at the end of the bed, and baby began to crown. The mother was doing a fabulous job...her perineum was beautifully pink, stretching nicely with her short, slow, powerful non-valsalva grunts and pushes...no white, blanching, evidence of an impending tear. It would have been so easy just to guide baby out, and let the nurses help Mom while she lifted her leg over baby and turned over in bed...but no, the doc insisted, baby on the perineum, that the mother turn over in the bed immediately...and as she turned, baby's head ratcheted in the opposite direction, and you guessed it...a third degree tear ensued. Ask any other nurse on my unit and it occurred because the mother was on her hands and knees (grunting like a cavewoman I heard one nurse say...arghhhhh!)...and not because she was forced, at exactly the wrong time, to work against gravity and turn over! I could scream. I know the poor mother did...so unecessary!
In this same delivery, a young nurse, a nurse-midwifery graduate student, and an excellent new L&D nurse came in to help as well. She is a lovely young woman; confident; secure; patient; a breath of fresh air when things are getting intense and the primary nurse needs a hand or a new perspective. She soothed and comforted this mother with her lovely, calm voice and demeanor. In other deliveries I've seen her in, she just has a knack for gaining the absolute trust of the woman she is caring for. After the birth, I thanked her for her help, and complimented her on what a nice addition to the floor she has become. She, in an attempt to commiserate, I can only assume replied, "You're welcome...and thankyou; but it is all so much more pleasant and controlled when the mother has an epidural. I wish she had had an epidural...it would have been so much nicer!". I was so taken aback by her comment that I just let it slide by. I've always meant to gently revisit it with her, but have never been able to find the right time (or, I must admit, the nerve) to broach the topic with her again. This is a brand, new, "malleable" L&D nurse, a future midwife, an excellent clinician, with an excellent mastery of her craft, with so much potential to bring so much respect and compassion to her clients, and it turns out to be all an act???? How dissapointing. Why do we keep potentiating this?
And there are so many excuses why we don't change. I made no secret that I was reading Jennifer Block's book, Pushed during down time on the unit. I made certain to leave it conspicuously out on the table in the nurses station when I was with a patient. Did anyone ask me about it? No. Did anyone bother to turn it over, take a look at it? Not that I'm aware of. Instead, I overhead one nurse say "That's all well and good, I suppose, but it's different in the U.S. (excuse me, but the book was written by an American author, about American women, giving birth in the American medical system)...we've all intermarried with different cultures, and we have all different sizes of pelvises, and partners, and you just can't generalize about how easy it should be to give birth when you aren't a member of a more uniform culture". She never even looked beyond the cover of the book! She had no idea what the book was about; and, if her "theory" is so true, does she want then, to explain to me how so many of our not even five-feet tall Latina patients, giving birth to 8 and 9 pound-plus babies of big, tall, husky Caucasian and African-American fathers are able to do it so easily? I've seen plenty of tiny Asian women give birth to big babies as well, with very little, if any trauma or drama. Does this woman think that the pelvis of the American woman has evolved into something mostly inadequate for birthing, in the space of under 300 years? Please. It's not our pelvises that have become dysfunctional, it's our thought processes. To have read the book and had a rational discussion of it would have made it necessary to question the illusion of our own Golden Calf.
Finally, I get so frustrated hearing my coworkers referring to the midwives in town as "Lay" midwives!!!!! They don't know what a CPM is, they don't know what MANA is, they don't know what NARM is. Why????? The few times I've attempted to "educate" them about it, I got quizzical looks from them until I showed them printed materials from both groups, including the endorsements from physicians and state governments where they are recognized as collaborative members of the health care team...then I got little more than shrugged shoulders, and they still refer to these woman as "Lay" midwives...despite the fact that the founder of the most active group of midwives in this town is internationally known! She's a gem, she's a recognized expert in her field, she's drifting quickly into retirement, and we've never taken advantage of her opinion and expertise! What a loss.
For all my griping, I really do respect the nurses I work with. They can be nothing short of awesome in a situation that is going downhill fast. Most of them love what they do, and their patients love them. They know their stuff , particularly when it comes to high risk deliveries. I seriously believe that, in a city with too many L&D units, they are the best there are. They are the first person to be there if a nurse is in a situation that is getting hairy. If someone I loved or their baby were in trouble, these would be the nurses I would want to take care of them. Honestly, I would trust my very life with them. They are that good...I just wish that they had more respect for those who make different choices than they would. I wish they had more respect for the low risk side of things. I wish they would at least examine the other view before so staunchly defending their own.
I don't get it. I just don't. These are educated people. They know how to critically read research. The information is more readily available to them than it is to anyone else.
What Gives?????
Well, now for the other (at least an other side) of the issue. It frustrates me how few nurses and physicians are vehemently anti-homebirth, (or any other kind of "alternative" birth) based on non-existent (e.i., their opinion), or poor research.
For a long time, all homebirth advocates had to rely 0n in terms of published research to back up their point of view was the "Tew" study, ( British Journal Obstet Gynaecol 1986 Jul;93(7):659-74) which is now over 20 years old. In a world where research over five years old is considered outdated, regardless of how well designed and carried out it may be, this is no longer going to cut it; nor are subsequent studies performed in the ninties. Now we have the Johnson/Daviss study ( BMJ 2005;330:1416 (18 June), doi:10.1136/bmj.330.7505.14), obviously much more recent, which, even in it's criticism of it's own limitations, makes a very good case for the safety of homebirth.
So why do so many of the people I work with not know about this study, or any of the others? Why do they think that the "homebirthers" out there are uneducated women who place more value on their experience than on the safety of their baby? Why do they make fun of women who choose to give birth in any number of ways that does not jive with the "norm" of being limited in movement by I.V.s and fetal monitoring equipment, no eating or drinking in labor (not even clear liquids, heck, not even popsicles! Does someone want to tell me what the difference between one contraband popsicle and half a dozen cups of "allowed" ice chips is?), pushing in lithotomy position while holding breath, who question the need for Pitocin if they are otherwise healthy and not post-term, etc? (Yeah, I know, it's a run-on sentence, but make some allowances for passion, OK?).
In a discussion I once overheard between several of our residents and one of our attendings regarding the "trend" of waterbirth, I heard the attending exclaim "and what if you get a shoulder dystocia while you are in the water, then you are screwed!"...(uhmm, excuse me, ever heard of theGaskinManeuver???...aside from the fact that "shoulders" are more likely to occur in lithotomy position).
Recently, a doula friend of mine told me about one of her clients who asked her physician (a woman who is an excellent diagnostician, and extremely skilled surgeon, and a favorite of many of the nurses where I work - including me - who chose her to deliver their own children) if she could push in a squatting position if she felt so inclined at the time. The physician said that she wouldn't be able to have clear access for catching the baby if mom chose to do so (hmmm...how so, when the mother would be several inches above the line of view if she pushed while squatting on the bed? I bet a lot of midwives would be surprised to hear that). This particular physician is part of a huge and popular practice, so I doubt that the loss of this one patient made much of a difference to her professionally, but I wonder if it made a difference to her personally? The mother subsequently gave birth to her baby at an outlying level-one hospital, in water, attended by a physician who is gaining in popularity because he seems willing to listen to his patients, and if nothing else, empathize with them. He managed to be able to have clear enough access to deliver this child, from the floor (I assume), and through water that, in all likelihood, became at least a little murky with the fluids of birth emerging with the baby. In the first situation, a woman denied a choice to another woman, seemingly for her own personal comfort. In the second, a physician who did not have the back up of countless residents and multiple ORs felt confident enough, and was willing to respect this mother's wishes. Professionally, this gentleman is very respected where I work. He doesn't transfer cases to us just because he would rather not deal with them, he doesn't take unnecessary risks with the cases he does transfer, and the attendings that I work with just seem to like him in general...he's a "buddy" to many of them; but there were more than a few raised eyebrows when I bragged that "hey, he's willing to do it, why aren't we?" I don't think it changed their opinion of him at all...but he's certainly not holding to the status quo, and I wonder how that is going over (unsuccessfully trying not to gloat here)?
As for waterbirth? Most of the nurses I work with think it's "gross"...I mean, you can get poop in the water (as if they don't see enough poop when the mother is up in stirrups); or, all that blood and goo in the water (what, they've never had to deal with blood and goo in this job?)! Can we get consistent here folks?
I once had a patient that didn't want pitocin routinely run in after she delivered her placenta. This was written on her (albeit, a little too long for my tastes) birthplan. When one of the nurses I work with, one who does a lot of training no less, asked "Why didn't she want Pit after she delivered?", the following conversation took place between the two of us:
"Because she didn't need it".
"She didn't need it?" (I knew I was being baited here, but I couldn't resist...)
"No. No one was yanking on her placenta, so she didn't need it".
"What do you mean?" (more baiting, my irritation and irrational need to win every
"argument" taking over),
"C'mon, C, you know better...left alone, a healthy one will come out on its own, you don't need traction, and there won't be any excess bleeding to worry about".
"I don't believe that"
"Of course you don't".
"Before we started using Pit after delivery, what was the main thing women died of
in childbirth?"
"If they were otherwise healthy? Infection"
"No it wasn't...it was hemorrhage!"
"You need to go back and reread your nursing school OB textbook".
Rolled eyes, sighs, shaking head, clucking tongue...tough having a "substandard" nurse like me on the unit.
And while I'm on a roll (am I ever not?)...about infection; we've recently been required to go to "handwashing" seminars, seeing as how insurance companies are planning to deny coverage should any of their insured's end up with hospital aquired infections (another lengthy post to come on this, I guaruntee). During the presentation, the well-known (I thought) story of Dr. Ignaz Semmelweis, the physician who originated the "germ theory of disease", based on his observations of the rate of puerpural infection when physicians treating pregnant women washed their hands between corpses and other patients and the laboring and postpartum patients. I assume we all know the outcome of this story? I assume we all know the story???? Evidently not...I was amazed at the number of nurses who had no familiarity with the story! Didn't this anecdote open most of our Med/Surge, Microbiology, Obsetrical, and Community Health texts, way back in nursing school? Sigh.
By the way...the aforementioned patient whose placenta so elegantly slid out without traction, and whose body (shockingly) required no Pitocin to keep its immedate postpartum blood loss under 300 mls, had been laboring most of the time on her hands and knees. True, it was a PITA to keep her baby on the monitor, but we managed. Just about when I thought my arm would fall off though, the same nurse I would soon have the previously mentioned conversation with came in to help with the delivery (so, we have our differences, but for the most part, we're always there for each other...just like any dysfunctional family). The doc was at the end of the bed, and baby began to crown. The mother was doing a fabulous job...her perineum was beautifully pink, stretching nicely with her short, slow, powerful non-valsalva grunts and pushes...no white, blanching, evidence of an impending tear. It would have been so easy just to guide baby out, and let the nurses help Mom while she lifted her leg over baby and turned over in bed...but no, the doc insisted, baby on the perineum, that the mother turn over in the bed immediately...and as she turned, baby's head ratcheted in the opposite direction, and you guessed it...a third degree tear ensued. Ask any other nurse on my unit and it occurred because the mother was on her hands and knees (grunting like a cavewoman I heard one nurse say...arghhhhh!)...and not because she was forced, at exactly the wrong time, to work against gravity and turn over! I could scream. I know the poor mother did...so unecessary!
In this same delivery, a young nurse, a nurse-midwifery graduate student, and an excellent new L&D nurse came in to help as well. She is a lovely young woman; confident; secure; patient; a breath of fresh air when things are getting intense and the primary nurse needs a hand or a new perspective. She soothed and comforted this mother with her lovely, calm voice and demeanor. In other deliveries I've seen her in, she just has a knack for gaining the absolute trust of the woman she is caring for. After the birth, I thanked her for her help, and complimented her on what a nice addition to the floor she has become. She, in an attempt to commiserate, I can only assume replied, "You're welcome...and thankyou; but it is all so much more pleasant and controlled when the mother has an epidural. I wish she had had an epidural...it would have been so much nicer!". I was so taken aback by her comment that I just let it slide by. I've always meant to gently revisit it with her, but have never been able to find the right time (or, I must admit, the nerve) to broach the topic with her again. This is a brand, new, "malleable" L&D nurse, a future midwife, an excellent clinician, with an excellent mastery of her craft, with so much potential to bring so much respect and compassion to her clients, and it turns out to be all an act???? How dissapointing. Why do we keep potentiating this?
And there are so many excuses why we don't change. I made no secret that I was reading Jennifer Block's book, Pushed during down time on the unit. I made certain to leave it conspicuously out on the table in the nurses station when I was with a patient. Did anyone ask me about it? No. Did anyone bother to turn it over, take a look at it? Not that I'm aware of. Instead, I overhead one nurse say "That's all well and good, I suppose, but it's different in the U.S. (excuse me, but the book was written by an American author, about American women, giving birth in the American medical system)...we've all intermarried with different cultures, and we have all different sizes of pelvises, and partners, and you just can't generalize about how easy it should be to give birth when you aren't a member of a more uniform culture". She never even looked beyond the cover of the book! She had no idea what the book was about; and, if her "theory" is so true, does she want then, to explain to me how so many of our not even five-feet tall Latina patients, giving birth to 8 and 9 pound-plus babies of big, tall, husky Caucasian and African-American fathers are able to do it so easily? I've seen plenty of tiny Asian women give birth to big babies as well, with very little, if any trauma or drama. Does this woman think that the pelvis of the American woman has evolved into something mostly inadequate for birthing, in the space of under 300 years? Please. It's not our pelvises that have become dysfunctional, it's our thought processes. To have read the book and had a rational discussion of it would have made it necessary to question the illusion of our own Golden Calf.
Finally, I get so frustrated hearing my coworkers referring to the midwives in town as "Lay" midwives!!!!! They don't know what a CPM is, they don't know what MANA is, they don't know what NARM is. Why????? The few times I've attempted to "educate" them about it, I got quizzical looks from them until I showed them printed materials from both groups, including the endorsements from physicians and state governments where they are recognized as collaborative members of the health care team...then I got little more than shrugged shoulders, and they still refer to these woman as "Lay" midwives...despite the fact that the founder of the most active group of midwives in this town is internationally known! She's a gem, she's a recognized expert in her field, she's drifting quickly into retirement, and we've never taken advantage of her opinion and expertise! What a loss.
For all my griping, I really do respect the nurses I work with. They can be nothing short of awesome in a situation that is going downhill fast. Most of them love what they do, and their patients love them. They know their stuff , particularly when it comes to high risk deliveries. I seriously believe that, in a city with too many L&D units, they are the best there are. They are the first person to be there if a nurse is in a situation that is getting hairy. If someone I loved or their baby were in trouble, these would be the nurses I would want to take care of them. Honestly, I would trust my very life with them. They are that good...I just wish that they had more respect for those who make different choices than they would. I wish they had more respect for the low risk side of things. I wish they would at least examine the other view before so staunchly defending their own.
I don't get it. I just don't. These are educated people. They know how to critically read research. The information is more readily available to them than it is to anyone else.
What Gives?????
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Unbelievable!!!
BirthTrack Labor Progress Monitor
Intense monitoring gearing up…
This device is FDA approved and actively being marketed to hospitals.
Probes monitor real-time cervical progress and “lets you know” when the baby is ready to come out or that labor is not progressing. Takes all the guess work out of labor.
http://www.barnev. com/www.barnev. com/indexea78. html?CategoryID= 177&ArticleID= 188&Page= 1
“Barnev's Continuous Labor Monitoring System, BirthTrack, enables obstetricians to make decisions based on accurate and timely information, resulting in significantly improved medical care, reduced costs, and a lower risk of malpractice.”
A note to Mothers to Be - http://www.barnev. com/www.barnev. com/indexecca. html?CategoryID= 163
I'd file this under the "Now I've Seen Everything" label, but we all know it wouldn't be the last entry.
Intense monitoring gearing up…
This device is FDA approved and actively being marketed to hospitals.
Probes monitor real-time cervical progress and “lets you know” when the baby is ready to come out or that labor is not progressing. Takes all the guess work out of labor.
http://www.barnev. com/www.barnev. com/indexea78. html?CategoryID= 177&ArticleID= 188&Page= 1
“Barnev's Continuous Labor Monitoring System, BirthTrack, enables obstetricians to make decisions based on accurate and timely information, resulting in significantly improved medical care, reduced costs, and a lower risk of malpractice.”
A note to Mothers to Be - http://www.barnev. com/www.barnev. com/indexecca. html?CategoryID= 163
I'd file this under the "Now I've Seen Everything" label, but we all know it wouldn't be the last entry.
Back to Basics...
...as far as this blog is concerned, at least. Obstetrical Nursing.
One of the frustrations I've always had about what I do is the amount of misinformation that women today seem to have about their care during pregnancy and birth, as well as the complete lack of information on the part of some. Lately though, I've come across situations that make me begin to understand why more than a few physicians and nurses have that "rolling eyes" attitude towards women who want non-interventive births. Here is one of the more memorable examples in my own experience...
A family came to the L&D floor where I work one morning for a planned induction with one of the most conservative physicians in the area. Interestingly enough, this is one of the few practices in town that has nurse-midwives on staff, but this family was being cared for by the physician...they had never met any of the midwives. The expectant mother was accompanied by her husband, her sister, and her daughter. The husband was of a culture quite a bit more traditional (read that patriarchal) than the U.S. (as if the U.S. isn't patriarchal enough!) and his wife and daughter seemed to have adopted his customs in dress and, to a good degree, behavior. The sister was...I just can't find a "nicer" way to say this...a brash, loud woman, with garish, red, "trailer park" hair, who described herself as her sister's "doula", which she pronounced "Dowla" (think "towel" with an "a" added). When she introduced herself to me as such, I instinctively (and stupidly) corrected her "You mean doula (pronounced "doola")? "No, DOWLA", came the response, and she whipped out and handed me her sister's birthplan, all four pages of it, and set about helping her sister into bed.
Now, mind you, this family was here for a planned induction; but the birthplan, laid out "check off" style (copied from the internet), included every possible option from homebirth to a planned cesarean, and had statements like "labor to start naturally", "no I.V", water to break on it's own", "intermittent monitoring", "labor in water if desired", and, my personal favorites, "no enema" and "no shave prep".
WTF???????
Remember, that this family had chosen the care of one of the most conservative docs in town, at one of the most conservative hospitals! It was obvious that they had neither discussed this "plan" with him, nor had they researched the options available to them (unfortunately, our hospital does not offer labor or birth in water), or current birth practices. I mean, we all (don't we???) know that laboring mothers have not been given enemas or shave preps for nearly 30 years in this country! Had this mother been unconscious when her daughter was born? So, I sat down on the stool reserved for charting at the computer, birthplan in hand, asked the mother "Did you discuss your birth wishes with Dr. ____________?", to which the sister piped up, "This is a birthplan, not a wishlist!"
Enough. I had been in the room only five minutes with this family, and I had already had enough. Now, I'm not one to play "boss-nurse", but now I copped my best "Nurse Ratched" 'tude, looked "sis" square in the face and responded "And you got your dooola training where"?
"I'm self taught".
"Obviously"..."Well, my question was for your sister, not you, and hers is the only answer I will accept.
So sis turns to her sister, who was absent-mindedly smoothing her dress (she did not want to wear the hospital gown) over the fetal monitoring leads and says "She wants to know..."
"I assume she both can hear, as well as understand the question, and, again, I asked your sister the question. Please be seated, or leave the room".
Eyes squinted, shoulders squared, breath sucked in, mouth opened and something (equally loud and beligerent I assume) started coming out, but I stopped her before she could get the first syllable out..."Shall I call security?".
Glaring at me with the evil eye, she slumped down into the rocking chair next to the bed.
I continued with the mother. No, they had not discussed their birthplan with the doctor. I asked her if she understood that this was a planned induction of labor, which, by current practices of this doctor necessitated an I.V., that labor would be started by the use of drugs, continuous fetal monitoring would be required, water labor was not offered at this hospital, and that this physician would in all likelihood order her water to be broken as soon as possible. As much as I would like to, I could do very little to honor her birthplan.
She simply looked at me with a blank stare. The "dowla" left the room to "complain to your boss", and the husband left to call the doctor. Shortly after, "dowlasister" returned to the room, gathered up her purse, and left in a huff "You don't need me in this place!". Dad returned to the room, carried on an animated conversation with the mother in another language, and then turned to me "I can at least bring some tapes and other things in to make her more comfortable?" "Of course" I responded, and set about starting the mother's I.V. and getting her medical records for the stay started.
Fifteen minutes later husband was back in the room pushing a three-tiered cart piled with all manner of blankets, pillows, and two, count them two huge Rubbermaid tubs! He proceeded to take the top off of the uppermost tub, pulled out an air mattress, dragged it to the center of the floor and began to inflate it with an electric pump!
It took me a minuted to believe my eyes; then I told him that we couldn't allow the mat on the floor because it could impede the movement of people in and out of the room, especially if we had to move quickly, and especially in the event we needed to move his wife out of the room in her bed. He glared at me and began shoving the half- inflated mattress into the cabinet that is meant for an instrument table. I again apologized for not being able to meet their expectations, but that for their own safety, we could not allow the mattress. I would do as much as I possibly could to make their experience as comfortable as possible, but we had to work within the reality that this was, unfortunately, not a natural labor, but a medically induced labor, and that we needed to be able to move in and out of the room unobstructed. I also encouraged him to take as much of their "equipment" as he could back to their car, because we could not guarantee its protection should we have to leave the room for surgery. Not that I expected surgery, but you never know what might happen. Plus, he wouldn't have to worry about dragging everything to the postpartum room after the baby was born. He reluctantly agreed and started to pack back up his cart.
When I returned to the nurses station I was met with a cacophany of hoots and howls about the "nutcases in room 28", and comments about having "Jesus"on the floor (dad had long dark hair and a beard, and was wearing a long coat-like garment and sandals). I was glad to be going off shift for the day.
When I returned to work that evening, I learned that Jesus's wife had given birth uneventfully to another lovely little girl, and that everything had gone smoothly...after the father had once again inflated the airmattress on the floor, and the whole family had spread themselves out on it to watch a DVD! They had actually refused to move, so their day nurse stopped the induction (wasn't interested in catching a baby on a mattress that had been God only knows where), and called the doctor who left his office during a busy day of appointments, stormed into the room bellowing at the top of his lungs to the woman and her husband while the 10-year old ran races with her imaginary friends up and down the hallway outside the room. To this day no one knows what Dr.___________ said to the couple, but within minutes "Jesus" was meekly pushing his cart and Rubbermaid containers out to the parking garage, and mom was obediently climbing into bed.
Seriously! This actually happened!
Yes, this is an extreme example; but it's not the first time families have come to the hospital expecting things that could not be provided to them, or not having the slightest understanding of what their doctor was planning for them. They just obediently showed up at the hospital on the day "scheduled" for them, and expected things to go smoothly. If they had taken the time to think about what they would like to happen, they had never discussed it with their doctor. Many families who appear with birthplans do the same thing this family did...print one off of some site on the internet, and check off the items that some book not revised from the late sixties or early seventies suggested they put in it. When we ask them if their doctor has signed their birthplan, they seem surprised that this was necessary at all. They don't understand that it's not the hospital (as if the hospital in and of itself is a decision making entity), that determines how their care will be given, it's their doctor. Nor do they understand that they may see their doctor for, oh, 10-20 minutes...long enough for him or her to breeze in and catch a crowning baby, hand him or her off to the nurse, catch the placenta, stitch up any tears or episiotomy, and leave. Over and over I hear mothers and their family members ask "When is Dr._______ going to be here? only to be told that the doctor only comes at the end of labor. Of course, I don't know why doctors don't tell their patients this.
No, I'm not crazy about doing births the "medical" way. But Navelgazing Midwife put it best, I think "When you buy the hospital ticket, you go for the hospital ride." Of course I want your birth to be the best possible experience for you. I want to honor your wishes as best I can; but understand that I am limited to both your doctor's orders and hospital policy. If you want something different, you need to get your doctor or midwife's agreement first, and if it is something that is not normally done at this hospital, your doctor needs to make certain the arrangements can be made, within reason...and this all needs to be done weeks before your due date! Only if mothers and their families make their preferences known ahead of time, based on accurate information, can they begin to encourage change in a system that sorely needs it. It won't happen overnight, and it won't happen all at once; but it can happen, if it is handled realistically and with respect to the environment that health care professionals and workers have to negotiate.
One of the frustrations I've always had about what I do is the amount of misinformation that women today seem to have about their care during pregnancy and birth, as well as the complete lack of information on the part of some. Lately though, I've come across situations that make me begin to understand why more than a few physicians and nurses have that "rolling eyes" attitude towards women who want non-interventive births. Here is one of the more memorable examples in my own experience...
A family came to the L&D floor where I work one morning for a planned induction with one of the most conservative physicians in the area. Interestingly enough, this is one of the few practices in town that has nurse-midwives on staff, but this family was being cared for by the physician...they had never met any of the midwives. The expectant mother was accompanied by her husband, her sister, and her daughter. The husband was of a culture quite a bit more traditional (read that patriarchal) than the U.S. (as if the U.S. isn't patriarchal enough!) and his wife and daughter seemed to have adopted his customs in dress and, to a good degree, behavior. The sister was...I just can't find a "nicer" way to say this...a brash, loud woman, with garish, red, "trailer park" hair, who described herself as her sister's "doula", which she pronounced "Dowla" (think "towel" with an "a" added). When she introduced herself to me as such, I instinctively (and stupidly) corrected her "You mean doula (pronounced "doola")? "No, DOWLA", came the response, and she whipped out and handed me her sister's birthplan, all four pages of it, and set about helping her sister into bed.
Now, mind you, this family was here for a planned induction; but the birthplan, laid out "check off" style (copied from the internet), included every possible option from homebirth to a planned cesarean, and had statements like "labor to start naturally", "no I.V", water to break on it's own", "intermittent monitoring", "labor in water if desired", and, my personal favorites, "no enema" and "no shave prep".
WTF???????
Remember, that this family had chosen the care of one of the most conservative docs in town, at one of the most conservative hospitals! It was obvious that they had neither discussed this "plan" with him, nor had they researched the options available to them (unfortunately, our hospital does not offer labor or birth in water), or current birth practices. I mean, we all (don't we???) know that laboring mothers have not been given enemas or shave preps for nearly 30 years in this country! Had this mother been unconscious when her daughter was born? So, I sat down on the stool reserved for charting at the computer, birthplan in hand, asked the mother "Did you discuss your birth wishes with Dr. ____________?", to which the sister piped up, "This is a birthplan, not a wishlist!"
Enough. I had been in the room only five minutes with this family, and I had already had enough. Now, I'm not one to play "boss-nurse", but now I copped my best "Nurse Ratched" 'tude, looked "sis" square in the face and responded "And you got your dooola training where"?
"I'm self taught".
"Obviously"..."Well, my question was for your sister, not you, and hers is the only answer I will accept.
So sis turns to her sister, who was absent-mindedly smoothing her dress (she did not want to wear the hospital gown) over the fetal monitoring leads and says "She wants to know..."
"I assume she both can hear, as well as understand the question, and, again, I asked your sister the question. Please be seated, or leave the room".
Eyes squinted, shoulders squared, breath sucked in, mouth opened and something (equally loud and beligerent I assume) started coming out, but I stopped her before she could get the first syllable out..."Shall I call security?".
Glaring at me with the evil eye, she slumped down into the rocking chair next to the bed.
I continued with the mother. No, they had not discussed their birthplan with the doctor. I asked her if she understood that this was a planned induction of labor, which, by current practices of this doctor necessitated an I.V., that labor would be started by the use of drugs, continuous fetal monitoring would be required, water labor was not offered at this hospital, and that this physician would in all likelihood order her water to be broken as soon as possible. As much as I would like to, I could do very little to honor her birthplan.
She simply looked at me with a blank stare. The "dowla" left the room to "complain to your boss", and the husband left to call the doctor. Shortly after, "dowlasister" returned to the room, gathered up her purse, and left in a huff "You don't need me in this place!". Dad returned to the room, carried on an animated conversation with the mother in another language, and then turned to me "I can at least bring some tapes and other things in to make her more comfortable?" "Of course" I responded, and set about starting the mother's I.V. and getting her medical records for the stay started.
Fifteen minutes later husband was back in the room pushing a three-tiered cart piled with all manner of blankets, pillows, and two, count them two huge Rubbermaid tubs! He proceeded to take the top off of the uppermost tub, pulled out an air mattress, dragged it to the center of the floor and began to inflate it with an electric pump!
It took me a minuted to believe my eyes; then I told him that we couldn't allow the mat on the floor because it could impede the movement of people in and out of the room, especially if we had to move quickly, and especially in the event we needed to move his wife out of the room in her bed. He glared at me and began shoving the half- inflated mattress into the cabinet that is meant for an instrument table. I again apologized for not being able to meet their expectations, but that for their own safety, we could not allow the mattress. I would do as much as I possibly could to make their experience as comfortable as possible, but we had to work within the reality that this was, unfortunately, not a natural labor, but a medically induced labor, and that we needed to be able to move in and out of the room unobstructed. I also encouraged him to take as much of their "equipment" as he could back to their car, because we could not guarantee its protection should we have to leave the room for surgery. Not that I expected surgery, but you never know what might happen. Plus, he wouldn't have to worry about dragging everything to the postpartum room after the baby was born. He reluctantly agreed and started to pack back up his cart.
When I returned to the nurses station I was met with a cacophany of hoots and howls about the "nutcases in room 28", and comments about having "Jesus"on the floor (dad had long dark hair and a beard, and was wearing a long coat-like garment and sandals). I was glad to be going off shift for the day.
When I returned to work that evening, I learned that Jesus's wife had given birth uneventfully to another lovely little girl, and that everything had gone smoothly...after the father had once again inflated the airmattress on the floor, and the whole family had spread themselves out on it to watch a DVD! They had actually refused to move, so their day nurse stopped the induction (wasn't interested in catching a baby on a mattress that had been God only knows where), and called the doctor who left his office during a busy day of appointments, stormed into the room bellowing at the top of his lungs to the woman and her husband while the 10-year old ran races with her imaginary friends up and down the hallway outside the room. To this day no one knows what Dr.___________ said to the couple, but within minutes "Jesus" was meekly pushing his cart and Rubbermaid containers out to the parking garage, and mom was obediently climbing into bed.
Seriously! This actually happened!
Yes, this is an extreme example; but it's not the first time families have come to the hospital expecting things that could not be provided to them, or not having the slightest understanding of what their doctor was planning for them. They just obediently showed up at the hospital on the day "scheduled" for them, and expected things to go smoothly. If they had taken the time to think about what they would like to happen, they had never discussed it with their doctor. Many families who appear with birthplans do the same thing this family did...print one off of some site on the internet, and check off the items that some book not revised from the late sixties or early seventies suggested they put in it. When we ask them if their doctor has signed their birthplan, they seem surprised that this was necessary at all. They don't understand that it's not the hospital (as if the hospital in and of itself is a decision making entity), that determines how their care will be given, it's their doctor. Nor do they understand that they may see their doctor for, oh, 10-20 minutes...long enough for him or her to breeze in and catch a crowning baby, hand him or her off to the nurse, catch the placenta, stitch up any tears or episiotomy, and leave. Over and over I hear mothers and their family members ask "When is Dr._______ going to be here? only to be told that the doctor only comes at the end of labor. Of course, I don't know why doctors don't tell their patients this.
No, I'm not crazy about doing births the "medical" way. But Navelgazing Midwife put it best, I think "When you buy the hospital ticket, you go for the hospital ride." Of course I want your birth to be the best possible experience for you. I want to honor your wishes as best I can; but understand that I am limited to both your doctor's orders and hospital policy. If you want something different, you need to get your doctor or midwife's agreement first, and if it is something that is not normally done at this hospital, your doctor needs to make certain the arrangements can be made, within reason...and this all needs to be done weeks before your due date! Only if mothers and their families make their preferences known ahead of time, based on accurate information, can they begin to encourage change in a system that sorely needs it. It won't happen overnight, and it won't happen all at once; but it can happen, if it is handled realistically and with respect to the environment that health care professionals and workers have to negotiate.
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