Moanna’s Birth Story – Part 3: Pitocin is the Devil
Pitocin was at the bottom of the list of interventions that I was willing to accept; we’re talking lowest of lowes. I wanted a Pitocin drip less than I wanted pain killers. The only thing I wanted less than Pitocin was a cesarean. From what I had read, it was the devil and should only be used as a last resort. You can imagine my furry when I was rudely awakened from my deep drug aided slumber and told it was Pitocin or else…
If you need to catch up with us, read the first two parts before continuing on…
Part 1
Part 2
Somewhere between seven and eight in the morning a new less than pleasant nurse came in and threw on the lights jerking us awake from our restful state. She barged in with more bags of fluids and crap, and said that my contractions had stopped over night and that I wasn’t dilating. She didn’t know if I was dilating or not, I hadn’t been checked since the night before. I guess that was her assumption. Since I wasn’t making progress and it had been awhile since my water broke it was time to “get things moving” with some Pitocin. I asked if I could get out of bed, take a walk and try some other things to start my contractions back up again before we resorted to the drugs. She was not amused, and told me it was time for Pitocin, no options. Since my contractions were nonexistent, I asked if I could eat before she started the Pitocin. She said no because I was in active labor. I was getting really annoyed at this point. I wanted to question her further, but I was backed into a corner where I felt I had no choice but to shut up and take it. I felt that if I was persistent in voicing my concerns and wishes for this birth that it would make things worse and hostile. At the time, I still had no idea that the night before I was given narcotics, and it was most likely the narcotics that had stopped my labor.
The nurse started my Pitocin drip, and very quickly contractions started up. They were immediately intense. I was prepared for pain. I knew it was coming. I had accepted it and welcomed it as part of the birthing process. However, I wasn’t expecting to go from feeling zero pain to clawing at the bed during contractions within minutes. Nor was I expecting to have multiple contractions in a row before having a minute to rest. Steve was calm at first but he wasn’t prepared for me to act this way this soon either.
About an hour into things the doctor on call came in just as I was getting up to go pee. He said he needed to check and see how I was progressing and dilating. I told him I had to pee first and then we could check things out. He said no he was going to check me first and then I could go pee if I wanted to after he left. I was annoyed with the nurses and their lack of care for what I wanted, but this made me extremely angry. I had to sit there in pain, in the middle of a contraction, with a bladder very full of IV fluids and other crap they were pumping into me while a doctor I didn’t like felt me up without my permission. If I could have peed on him I would have. I don’t think anything has made me feel more violated before in my life. I didn’t realize how damaging that moment was to me until a few months ago when I started preparing myself for Deuce’s birth. (We might get more into that in a later post.) Before the jerk left he encouraged me to get an epidural and told me how much easier life would be if I didn’t insist on doing things my way.
For the next hour or so, I sat with my legs folded (Indian style to be totally un PC) in the middle of my bed rocking back and forth to sooth myself as contractions came and went. I was deep in what they call labor land. Steve would fall asleep across the bottom of the bed between contractions, and I would kick him to wake him up when I felt a contraction coming on. I didn’t really want him to touch me much or speak to me, but I wanted him to be with me and awake while I was in pain. Maybe I felt like he should suffer with me, I don’t know. I just knew that it pissed me off to watch him sleeping peacefully while I was writhing in chemical induced pain.
I’m not sure at what point this happened, but a very sweet nurse came in to check and see how I was doing. She noticed that my hospital gown was falling off of me and that I kept tugging at it trying to cover myself up. She asked if I had brought a shirt or gown that I would be more comfortable in. I pointed to where my bag was, and asked her to find my yellow tank top. I was in between contractions and Steve was passed out at the foot of my bed, so she helped me change. I felt so much better once I was in my tank top and didn’t have to feel self conscious about the giant gown exposing myself to the many strangers that were coming and going. If I knew who that nurse was, I would send her flowers and thank her for giving me some of my dignity and power back that her coworkers had stolen from me.
The truth finally comes out in Part 4…
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Renee, Thanks for sharing your birth story. It sounds familiar. I wanted an all-natural homebirth. I ended up at the hospital with an epidural and eventually a c-section. Healthy baby, and all that, but not exactly what I had hoped for.
I’m so sorry that your birth didn’t go the way you had planned. It’s upsetting that people think that because we had healthy babies, that we’re not allowed to be upset and mourn when our birth doesn’t goes as planned.
Renee, this entire story feels SO familiar… I am so sorry. It’s a crime the way most births are managed in this country. THIS is why I want to be a doula.
Drives me crazy! You’re going to make a great doula!
Renee, where did you have Moanna? At what hospital is all of this craziness going on?
We had her in Christiansburg. I think the biggest issue was that it wasn’t my doctor who was on call. It was a doctor I had only seen once or twice, and he was “Set in his ways.”
Ick. Why does this echo so many other first time mom stories? Here’s hoping you’re not rocking a scar like me. Having to play that game is no fun. While it can be done, things seem like they’re much more peaceful if you don’t have that scar mocking you at every turn.
Unfortunately birth is one of those things where you don’t know what you don’t know until your in the throws of labor and aren’t prepared to take a stand. Thankfully, I didn’t have to have a c-section. They are necessary sometimes, and thank the heavens we have the technology, but more times than not they can be avoided.
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