Happy Birthday Myriam: A Birth Story, Part 2

So today is the day, my baby girl turns 6 years old!
Happy birthday, baby girl!
And I will finish out the remainder of her birth story.    

In case you were wondering about the balloon, we were at a birthday party for one of Myriam's cousins over the weekend, who turned one. She has very set ideas about what her birthday party will entail and a whale didn't quite make the cut--although a mermaid is on the list! But since the party, she has decided that party hats are necessary!

     So I'd been rocking an epidural for about an hour when the OBGYN that was on call that day walked in told me that I was taking too long. She said it was obvious that the baby was too big for me and that it was time to do the section. (It had been 6 hours from the time I started the pitocin until the bitch from hell OBGYN decided that I was wasting her time.) I was stunned.

     I had never met this OBGYN, I had only ever seen one of the partner's in the practice. I had been told by another patient in the practice that this particular OB was horrible and to NEVER schedule an appointment with her and now I had the pleasure of dealing with her first hand. I was told that I wasn't making enough progress and that there was no need to continue with the pitocin. I had failed. She also said that inductions hardly ever worked [and waiting around for an inevitable section was keeping her from dinner with friends]. (This part was overheard by my mother as she was coming back from the waiting room. The OB was speaking with one of the nurses.) When the Hubby and I asked if we could wait another hour and see if I made any progress we were told, (insert dramatic eyeroll here) "Sure. If you really want to risk it."
     We were very afraid. This was our first child. We didn't know that we should have told her to take a flying leap and to request a new OB. Our midwife had been over-ruled and was standing to the OB's left with a pained look on her face. We signed the necessary papers and we're wheeled into the OR.
     I was strapped, Christ-like, to an operating table and a green curtain was put up blocking my view. Within two minutes my daughter was out and squalling. I sent the Hubby along to the nursery with Myriam while they finished sewing me up. I was then wheeled to recovery and later to back to my room. At some point someone put my daughter into my arms but I was shivering so violently (a reaction to the anesthesia) that she was taken away from me. I remember my mother telling me how beautiful she was and watching the Hubby counting all of her fingers and toes but it was as if I were watching all of it from above.
     I am now going to admit to you something that bothers me to this day. I watched all of these goings on from a detached place. I was only mildly interested in the proceedings. I was drugged and woozy and completely uncertain whether I had HAD the baby or not. Hours passed and the visitors left. I was moved to another room and a nurse came in to check on me and she brought Myriam with her. It was dark and late, nine or maybe ten o'clock at night. Myriam was crying. The nurse asked when she had been fed last and I told her I didn't know, I hadn't fed her yet. She hadn't been fed at all since she had been born, more than six hours had passed! I hadn't even held her since she had been taken from me.

     When Myriam was first diagnosed with autism I did a lot of reading on the subject. One of the first websites I came across was a site out of Great Britain and it said that one of the causes of autism was a failed bond with the mother. That the chances of having a child with autism was far greater in those children that lacked immediate contact with the mother after birth. It went on to say that a "cold" mother was the reason children were autistic.
     Now I know this is bunch of bunk. I knew there was no more truth in that than there is in the theory of vaccines causing autism. But still it is the article I always remember out of the thousands that I've read.

     At my 6 week check up with my OBGYN I was scheduled to see the head of the practice and I casually mentioned that I was very confused as to the reason for the C-Section. I gave him my interpretation of the events of that day and told him how upset I was with the on-call physician's bedside manner. My doctor finished with the exam and rather curtly exited the room (very unusual for him). I didn't think much of it until I came back for my yearly a couple of months later and noticed that the OB that had performed my C-Section was no longer listed on the door. When I asked one of the nurses what happened they conspiratorially told me that she was fired within an hour of my conversation my OBGYN. The nurse went on to say that I wasn't the first patient to complain but I was the last.
     I have tracked the doctor who performed my C-Section since finding out she had been fired and she never practiced the Kansas City area again. The last I knew she had moved to California and was no longer working in obstetrics. She has gone into the soft-core plastic surgery business ie Botox, chemical peals, etc.

Peace Out!
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