You learn something at every birth and (un)fortunately sometimes the universe gives us lessons that we need to learn—perhaps we don’t want to learn them or think we have learned them good enough, but there they are again. So, I guess it was inevitable that I go back into a hospital and face the music. I used to think doctors walked on water. I never imagined they were these egotistical, righteous beasts. Heck, when I was younger, I wanted to be one.
It only took about 2 good years of doulaing for me to come to the conclusion that they had elevated themselves to God-like status and liked it, which by the way, is fine with me, until it affects me or the people who I am hired by. The more I read, the more I believed in birthing naturally, the more I felt the hospital was unjustified in its decisions. It was not me who could stop them. I could only inform and educate parents on the benefits and risks of doing certain procedures or interventions on the spectrum. However, some mothers wanted an advocate in the hospital—a voice—while theirs was in labor land. This advocacy was not unjustified or unsolicited. It was a reflection of the parents’ wishes already agreed upon weeks before when the birth plan was approved and placed in the chart. However, this voice was not to be tolerated in labor. How dare someone try to voice reason when reason was not necessary according to the physician?
I like to give parents an example of how messed up this whole birthing process in the hospital can be. I use an example of my husband’s outpatient shoulder surgery. A few days before the surgery, we meet with the physician who goes over the entire procedure and answers all questions. The surgeon wants to meet your support people so he can give you information regarding care after surgery. He is polite, unpretentious, and respectful of where you are coming from. He gets out models and x-rays and essentially provides proof of why he is doing what he is doing. He shows us the tools he is using and how recovery will look down to the sutures he puts in. There is no stone left unturned. He does not want you to leave with an uncertainty whatsoever. The day of the surgery, every team member who is present in the surgery comes to pre-op and explains what their role is and essentially gets your consent. Fast forward to a hospital birth where in most hospitals a third of all women will have major abdominal surgery and all they get is one sheet of paper to read and sign stating informed consent—no other info is given. It’s an abomination to women’s healthcare.
Recently I attended a birth, not really as a doula, although the parents introduced me as one. My midwife introduced me to the doctor as her student so it was more like—here is a person who has been supporting these parents throughout their pregnancy and since the mom is no longer a home birth candidate, now this person is supporting her in the hospital, but she is not trying to save these parents from the abominations that occur in here. We understood that we were here because we needed help from the hospital and agreed to let go of our aspirations for a natural birth. Membranes had been ruptured for many days and we needed Pitocin to get things going. Natural induction methods had already been employed.
It was only a matter of time before I found myself wishing I had been at an erupting volcano or sinking ship rather than be in that room. My face must’ve revealed my true inner feelings and my lack of enthusiasm for the hospital policies was palpable. It’s not that I was surprised at my behavior, don’t get me wrong, I had acted like this before, but this time I expected to act less childish and more professional because I was older and wiser? However, in the face of hypocrisy and disrespect, I can only clam up and shake my head. Nothing had changed. Not me, not my ability to play the role of facilitator in the hospital. I outwardly admitted that I could do nothing for these parents. I didn’t want to further jeopardize the midwife’s relationship with her backing physician. I was just praying it would be over soon. I should have said to the doctor that the parents may be needed more explaining of what the choices were, but honestly, I didn’t think I could have spoken nice to them at that moment. If I haven’t been in the hospital that is friendliest to homebirthers and had the backup physician working with the parents—I would have expected the behavior from the hospital staff, but this was different. I wasn’t a doula coming in guns ablazing. I was a midwife—not a colleague or anywhere near equal to him, but a collaborating member of a healthcare system.
So, here I thought, with more experience and education and coming in with a different attitude that my experience would be different, but no. Unfortunately this leaves a bad taste in my mouth for my return to Louisiana. I want to be the type of midwife who is able to go into the hospitals with her clients and interact professionally and civilly with the staff. I don’t want to drop them at the door and wish them luck, but I am concerned. Perhaps this is just who I am and I need to accept that I am not good at this and won’t be good at this. Can that be a choice to say I won’t work at it? I just feel that every time I interact in a negative way it does more damage to the relationship with the staff and future encounters. What a sucky place to be. It’s not that I don’t value having healthcare available when we need it. I appreciate it and am so thankful that we have a relatively clean place to go in an emergency where proper medically trained personnel are waiting to do their jobs. Many places on Earth aren’t so lucky, but I am not going to hump the legs of the doctors just so they treat me or my clients differently. No. I won’t do it. Now, if they happen to get to a place over a few years or months of interacting and feeling comfortable with my ability to catch issues and/or consult then super, but I cannot see myself going out of my way to kiss their butts. I have already decided that I will inform my clients of my relationship or lack thereof with the medical community and if they are not happy with it, then they need to find another provider. I have to be comfortable with my abilities and that is something I just cannot provide right now. I wish I could, but I physically cannot.
My Journey as a Licensed Midwife in Louisiana 