If She Floats Then She Is Not A Witch Like We Thought
I got a call from James* at around 7am. I was in nursing class, practicing CPR on a dummy.
“Amber, she’s in labor. We’re at the hospital. Her water broke and they are starting her on Pitocin”.
James sounded calm, way calmer than he ought to be. I mean, his wife is in labor, and with twins. I grabbed my bag and bid my classmates farewell. I had a long drive ahead of me, about 45 minutes. I had not done a delivery at this hospital before, which is in a larger town south of Port Townsend. I immediately wondered why she was given Pitocin if her water had already broke and she was clearly in labor.
I got home and packed my bag up. Clothes, snacks, extra underwear and socks. Oils and massage tools. I was ready.
At around 10 am I got to the hospital. It was a pleasant drive. Sunny, clear skies all the way. When I arrived at her bedside I found her somewhat sedated and laying on her back. She was hooked up to every piece of machinery available to a laboring woman: Pitocin IV drip, external fetal monitors, a catheter, a blood pressure cuff, and an Epidural “sample”. The anesthesiologist had come in prior to my arrival and had insisted she get an epidural placed and just “try out” the medication. He said “Yes, yes, I know you don’t want one, it’s a just a sample. This way we know you are a good candidate for one, you know…in case the babies are in danger and you need one for a c-section”.
A nurse was busy at a massive computer, which was monitoring the babies’ heartbeats. Immediately the nurse spun around and looked me up and down. “So. You’re the Doula”. I nodded my head. “Where were you trained?” I replied that I was trained at Seattle Midwifery School, and had obtained additional training though ALACE. “How long ago?” I could not believe I was being grilled by this woman. I was getting pissed and I just wanted to talk to my laboring mother, ask her if she was okay with everything that was happening to her. In our prenatal meetings she was adamant that she give birth as naturally as possible. Her twins where head down, she was completely healthy, and had started labor on her own. She was 1 cm dilated. Considering all of this, I was very confused by all the medical intervention.
To change the subject and focus the attention on my client, I asked how long she had been lying on her back. She said several hours. “Okay”, I said, “maybe we can change your position. “NO, no you don’t” the nurse chimed in. “She cannot move. She needs to be monitored very closely. I about her babies‘ safety”. I looked at my client as she nodded sheepishly at the nurse.
I could not believe it.
The nurse continued with her interrogation.
“So, are you going to become a nurse?”.
“No. I am going to be a Midwife”.
Silence.
Then she looked at me and scoffed.
“When I was getting my masters in nursing I went to hospital that had Midwives working in it. So, so unsafe” she said with a roll of her eyes.
It was clear to me then that I was not welcome here. Both of my clients had been disempowered by fear; they had been convinced that if labor was not induced, if she did not have an epidual, if she even dared to change position, she was putting her babies in jeopardy. As for me, well, I was just some uneducated hippy. Some dumb dirty wannabe midwife who was trying to intervene and kill the babies.
I took a break. I had to.
When I came back, a mere hour later, the sample epidural had worn off and a permanent one had been placed. I was confused. I looked at James and he immediately got out of his chair.
Outside of her room we had a talk.
“James, I am afraid I am wasting your time and money. I cannot work. I simply have no job to do. Even if she hadn’t had an epidural I doubt that nurse would let me near her”.
He nodded sadly and said “We discussed it, and we had actually already decided that you should just go home. Keep the payment we gave you. We really value all you have done for us, but I don’t think there is anymore you can do. I am so, so sorry. It’s not your fault”.
He was right. It was not my fault. The problem is much larger than me, him or that nurse. It will always be a problem until women get out of there beds, open their mouths and insist they get the care they deserve.
I left at around noon, totally pissed.
(*not his real name)
“Amber, she’s in labor. We’re at the hospital. Her water broke and they are starting her on Pitocin”.
James sounded calm, way calmer than he ought to be. I mean, his wife is in labor, and with twins. I grabbed my bag and bid my classmates farewell. I had a long drive ahead of me, about 45 minutes. I had not done a delivery at this hospital before, which is in a larger town south of Port Townsend. I immediately wondered why she was given Pitocin if her water had already broke and she was clearly in labor.
I got home and packed my bag up. Clothes, snacks, extra underwear and socks. Oils and massage tools. I was ready.
At around 10 am I got to the hospital. It was a pleasant drive. Sunny, clear skies all the way. When I arrived at her bedside I found her somewhat sedated and laying on her back. She was hooked up to every piece of machinery available to a laboring woman: Pitocin IV drip, external fetal monitors, a catheter, a blood pressure cuff, and an Epidural “sample”. The anesthesiologist had come in prior to my arrival and had insisted she get an epidural placed and just “try out” the medication. He said “Yes, yes, I know you don’t want one, it’s a just a sample. This way we know you are a good candidate for one, you know…in case the babies are in danger and you need one for a c-section”.
A nurse was busy at a massive computer, which was monitoring the babies’ heartbeats. Immediately the nurse spun around and looked me up and down. “So. You’re the Doula”. I nodded my head. “Where were you trained?” I replied that I was trained at Seattle Midwifery School, and had obtained additional training though ALACE. “How long ago?” I could not believe I was being grilled by this woman. I was getting pissed and I just wanted to talk to my laboring mother, ask her if she was okay with everything that was happening to her. In our prenatal meetings she was adamant that she give birth as naturally as possible. Her twins where head down, she was completely healthy, and had started labor on her own. She was 1 cm dilated. Considering all of this, I was very confused by all the medical intervention.
To change the subject and focus the attention on my client, I asked how long she had been lying on her back. She said several hours. “Okay”, I said, “maybe we can change your position. “NO, no you don’t” the nurse chimed in. “She cannot move. She needs to be monitored very closely. I about her babies‘ safety”. I looked at my client as she nodded sheepishly at the nurse.
I could not believe it.
The nurse continued with her interrogation.
“So, are you going to become a nurse?”.
“No. I am going to be a Midwife”.
Silence.
Then she looked at me and scoffed.
“When I was getting my masters in nursing I went to hospital that had Midwives working in it. So, so unsafe” she said with a roll of her eyes.
It was clear to me then that I was not welcome here. Both of my clients had been disempowered by fear; they had been convinced that if labor was not induced, if she did not have an epidual, if she even dared to change position, she was putting her babies in jeopardy. As for me, well, I was just some uneducated hippy. Some dumb dirty wannabe midwife who was trying to intervene and kill the babies.
I took a break. I had to.
When I came back, a mere hour later, the sample epidural had worn off and a permanent one had been placed. I was confused. I looked at James and he immediately got out of his chair.
Outside of her room we had a talk.
“James, I am afraid I am wasting your time and money. I cannot work. I simply have no job to do. Even if she hadn’t had an epidural I doubt that nurse would let me near her”.
He nodded sadly and said “We discussed it, and we had actually already decided that you should just go home. Keep the payment we gave you. We really value all you have done for us, but I don’t think there is anymore you can do. I am so, so sorry. It’s not your fault”.
He was right. It was not my fault. The problem is much larger than me, him or that nurse. It will always be a problem until women get out of there beds, open their mouths and insist they get the care they deserve.
I left at around noon, totally pissed.
(*not his real name)