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Abstract

be">I was trying to prove I was a warrior. I wanted everyone to be awed by my courage. Newsflash: giving birth is an amazing performance already. Like Olympic level. Like deserve-a-gold-medal-and-a-freaking-anthem-sung-to-me level. But it was also the most straining experience of my life.</p><p id="f157">The pain was horrific. I feared I might die or be scarred for life. But I was also scared of how it may sound, being terrified for my own life when I should have been focusing on my baby.</p><p id="f02a">In retrospect, the doctors may have shown a little more empathy, had I shared my vulnerability.</p><h2 id="f30f">What I didn’t say: “Yes, I mind the OB/GYN intern taking over my case. She looks like she doesn’t know why she’s here”</h2><p id="d46e">My OB was away. I was not due for another two weeks, and when the contractions hit, I knew my OB wouldn’t be available. At the hospital, a woman younger than me entered the room and told me she would be the OB in charge. I remember thinking she seemed not to know what the hell she was doing here.</p><p id="e0a0">She stuttered, and let the nurse take charge. Again, I said nothing. She was useless during the whole process. She did not have one encouraging thing to say to me, and given the pain I endured when she stitched me up, it was bound to be her first birth. Ever.</p><h2 id="7c38">What I didn’t say: “Fck you”</h2><p id="0327">I have been stitched up WITHOUT any pain meds.</p><p id="f03d">The OB/GYN had the audacity to tell me it didn’t hurt that bad. While I was screaming and begging for it to end. FCK YOU!</p><p id="3d6b">I was getting to know my son, who was born all but 10 minutes ago when she started her business between my legs. The pain was so unbearable, that I had to hand him over to his dad. I didn’t even get to hold my son for more than a few minutes.</p><p id="520e">As for the pain, I still have nightmares. I am considering talking to a shrink. It took ages for me to allow my boyfriend to touch me again.</p><p id="5264">So yeah, f*ck you for not ackno

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wledging my pain and for ruining my first moment with my child.</p><h2 id="fe2b">What I didn’t say: “I love you”</h2><p id="b6de">To my partner.</p><p id="021e">He was my rock. He bossed the nurses around, held my hand, stood by me when I was screaming, told me he loved me and that he found me brave.</p><p id="1ab0">I think I remember saying something like “Stop saying that you love me. Tell me something useful.” I realize now that it WAS helpful. It kept me sane.</p><p id="fb46">I am so ever grateful that he was here, doing everything humanely possible to make things easier for me. This was one of the best proofs that I had chosen the best father for our child.</p><figure id="7207"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*LhW96JsRNWE-yINWbJe_dg.jpeg"><figcaption>Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/ja/@juanman61?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText">Juan Manuel Sanchez</a> on <a href="https://unsplash.com/s/photos/baby-feet?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText">Unsplash</a></figcaption></figure><p id="4a07">I guess writing about it is my catharsis. But I have had huge luck. I was not alone. And for all the pain, misery, and violence I endured in there, I am grateful for my boyfriend. He made sure everything would run as smoothly as possible for me and our kid.</p><p id="2953">I did lose my voice in there. But thankfully, my boyfriend made his heard.</p><p id="2c32">So, for all the moms-to-be out there: either you have superpowers or the nerves of a yogi master, and you voice your thoughts. OR, your partner, mom, cousin, mailman -whoever is in the room with you- says it for you. Brief them beforehand on every possible detail that feels important to you. And I’m serious about this one. Brief them like a soldier about to go to the front. Brief them like crazy. Have someone in your corner, ready to throw the punches. My special someone was here, and he’s the only reason I didn’t lose my mind.</p></article></body>

5 Things I Wish I Said in the Delivery Room

And how to get those things said anyway

About 10 months ago, I gave birth to my beautiful son.

Motherhood is a blessing. Yet giving birth has been a big fat ordeal. It was hands down the most painful experience of my life. And no, holding my newborn son did not instantly erase the excruciating pain I felt.

I let things happen to me. I was too overwhelmed to say what I wish I had said.

Now I have had time to think. And I wondered how I could have made it easier on myself. I probably couldn’t. You know, being busy trying to get a 4 kg-baby out of me. But still, some things needed to be said. Or yelled.

What I didn’t say: “Get your hands off me”

Three midwives, an OB intern, a senior OB, and a whole army of nurses took turns in the delivery room. They all had something to check on me.

My whole body was in pain and I couldn’t bear the touch of anyone on my skin. Even my boyfriend could not touch me. And yet, the medical staff did not find it relevant to ask me -or even tell me- that they would perform an exam.

They did not even give me a warning before poking me with a needle, performing a pelvic exam or inserting their whole bloody fist to check my cervix. Invasive much?

I kept quiet. I was focusing on not letting the pain get the best of me, and I did not stop them. I wish I had.

What I didn’t say: “I’m scared”

I was trying to prove I was a warrior. I wanted everyone to be awed by my courage. Newsflash: giving birth is an amazing performance already. Like Olympic level. Like deserve-a-gold-medal-and-a-freaking-anthem-sung-to-me level. But it was also the most straining experience of my life.

The pain was horrific. I feared I might die or be scarred for life. But I was also scared of how it may sound, being terrified for my own life when I should have been focusing on my baby.

In retrospect, the doctors may have shown a little more empathy, had I shared my vulnerability.

What I didn’t say: “Yes, I mind the OB/GYN intern taking over my case. She looks like she doesn’t know why she’s here”

My OB was away. I was not due for another two weeks, and when the contractions hit, I knew my OB wouldn’t be available. At the hospital, a woman younger than me entered the room and told me she would be the OB in charge. I remember thinking she seemed not to know what the hell she was doing here.

She stuttered, and let the nurse take charge. Again, I said nothing. She was useless during the whole process. She did not have one encouraging thing to say to me, and given the pain I endured when she stitched me up, it was bound to be her first birth. Ever.

What I didn’t say: “F*ck you”

I have been stitched up WITHOUT any pain meds.

The OB/GYN had the audacity to tell me it didn’t hurt that bad. While I was screaming and begging for it to end. F*CK YOU!

I was getting to know my son, who was born all but 10 minutes ago when she started her business between my legs. The pain was so unbearable, that I had to hand him over to his dad. I didn’t even get to hold my son for more than a few minutes.

As for the pain, I still have nightmares. I am considering talking to a shrink. It took ages for me to allow my boyfriend to touch me again.

So yeah, f*ck you for not acknowledging my pain and for ruining my first moment with my child.

What I didn’t say: “I love you”

To my partner.

He was my rock. He bossed the nurses around, held my hand, stood by me when I was screaming, told me he loved me and that he found me brave.

I think I remember saying something like “Stop saying that you love me. Tell me something useful.” I realize now that it WAS helpful. It kept me sane.

I am so ever grateful that he was here, doing everything humanely possible to make things easier for me. This was one of the best proofs that I had chosen the best father for our child.

Photo by Juan Manuel Sanchez on Unsplash

I guess writing about it is my catharsis. But I have had huge luck. I was not alone. And for all the pain, misery, and violence I endured in there, I am grateful for my boyfriend. He made sure everything would run as smoothly as possible for me and our kid.

I did lose my voice in there. But thankfully, my boyfriend made his heard.

So, for all the moms-to-be out there: either you have superpowers or the nerves of a yogi master, and you voice your thoughts. OR, your partner, mom, cousin, mailman -whoever is in the room with you- says it for you. Brief them beforehand on every possible detail that feels important to you. And I’m serious about this one. Brief them like a soldier about to go to the front. Brief them like crazy. Have someone in your corner, ready to throw the punches. My special someone was here, and he’s the only reason I didn’t lose my mind.