MY Body, My Decision End of Story.   

Fingerlakeswanderer wrote a rant post about pain in childbirth as a response to some the Midwife Denis Walsh's ridiculous post claiming all women need to suffer the pain of childbirth and then HE prattles on with a handful of absurdities as to why he THINKS so.

Let's get this straight right off the bat; There is no way a man can fathom that pain. And yes the pain is bad but you know what? If labor was just one of those pains and it lasted for 5 minutes, 10 minutes 30 minutes or an hour it probably would not have the reputation as "the worst pain ever felt in one's life." But the fact that it goes on for hours on end, makes it indeed the worst pain you can imagine.

If I hit Denis Walsh in the back of the head with an aluminum baseball bat, it would probably hurt like a muther-fucker, but I doubt he would walk away from that saying it was the worst pain he'd ever felt in his life. And surely he would be given something for pain in the hospital. However, if I continued to hit him (without killing him although there is a risk of a brain hemorrhage) for 26 hours straight, without stopping and in the exact same place, there is NO DOUBT he would walk away (eventually, in a week or so and much pain medication) from that experience saying it was the worst pain he'd ever experienced.

Now Everyone has different thresholds of pain. Mine is particularly low whereas SavageHusband is strong as an OX and has the highest pain tolerance I've ever seen (his sister shares the same or similar pain tolerance, as well mine and savagehusband's 2 youngest kids).

FIngerlakeswanderer made a very excellent point in her post: Through the ages people have made the consistent and egregious error of overstepping one's boundaries by telling women what to do with their bodies, or at least trying to force it upon them by any means possible.

"Breast is best."

Well then knock yourself out, but if I don't want National Geographic tits afterwards, that's my decision.

"But it's better for the baby."

That may be true, though I do not see it myself, but I still don't want to hook my boobs up to a machine to suck the milk out of them.

And another thing; Breast feeding HURTS like a bitch. It's inconvenient if you happen to be a busy person who is not comfortable with the bullshit stigma of "whipping it out whereever you are" to feed the baby and are thus shunned and shuffled off to the oh so clean public bathroom to feed your baby by the very same crowd that preached Breast is Best (is this wrong or what? For the record it does not bother me in the least to see a woman breast feeding her baby, and if my kids ask questions about it, I tell them the truth - there is nothing at all shameful about breast feeding.) And bottles work just fine, if one so chooses.

When I was in labor with my first child I was there for 18 hours. My nurse told me when it was time to push she would stop my epidural so I could push. That's the RULE (another decision made for me)- no epidural during push time. My nurse found that when she did this, I was so overcome by the pain, that I was basically paralyzed and unable to push. She started the epidural up again and asked me to try pushing, which I did and it was easy, even though I was supposed to have no control over my muscles with the epidural, I could still push. She told me she would inform Doctor Bello to keep the epidural dripping at the rate she had set it. We were told to wait for my doctor so we did.

The next thing I remember is trying hard to focus on the clock to figure out what time it was. At some point I had become delirious and blacked out...... from the pain of my epidural being stopped again. I don't see how this inproves the bond with my child, Mr. Midwife Denis Walsh. I do not remember anything from 6pm to 10 pm.

My good nurse's shift had ended, apparently, and she was replaced by a gaggle of cackling youngsters who stopped my epidural drip even though they were instructed not to by my previous nurse. I spotted my doctor, a small Cuban man who sounded exactly like Ricky Ricardo, and parted the curtain of nurses so I could snatch him by his shirt and haul him over to me. I pulled him close to my face and said, "CUT ME! HE'S NOT COMING THIS WAY. JUST CUT ME OPEN, I CAN'T PUSH. IT HURTS TOO BAD."

Still holding him by the shirt, faces just inches apart, he said, "Lemme thinn about it for a minn't." I let him go. He came right back, clapped his hands to the gabbing nurses and announced, "Prep her for surgery, stat!"

Preparations had to be done in the 10 second spaces between long contractions. A shot of Stadol, a catheter and then they started the epidural and wheeled me into surgery. I was so relieved. The pain was subsiding, and I was alert and happy and the Stadol prevented me from freaking out when I discovered my outstretched arms were strapped to a board. My 8.7 pound son had a serious cone head from a prolonged pushing session when he was, in fact, stuck in my pelvis. When we were waiting for the doctor, he had turned, face up (not the delivery position), and therefore could not come down the birth canal. Thankfully his head didn't stay that way.

Pregnancy number 2, I chose to have a C-Section out of fear of a uterine rupture. A choice my excellent Doctor Bello left up to me because VBAC is possible after just one C-section. And it's a damned good thing I had such a doctor and I made that decision because my son, who was born a little early, was 11 pounds and went into neonatal for 2 weeks. Doctor Bello and I had a great doctor/patient relationship and when he was wrenching Noah from my belly, my body was rocking on the operating table and Dr. Bello was swearing under his breath, "My God, would you look at the size of that baby?? He's a ............ a......... a SUMO wrestler! Pull that curtain down and let her see!" he excitedly instructed his assistant who flattened the blue tent that hid my gaping wide incision from my view, and there in the the doctor's hands was a ginormous, curled up, still sleeping baby.

Yeah that's right, I said he was still asleep.

(here we go)

And that may have been from the drugs in my body for surgery, and it may not. But you know what? He didn't stay asleep. Oh no. He had blood tests and a shot and apgar and a bath and peeing on his daddy to do before he could even have........... GASP!.......... a BOTTLE! A bottle of SUGAR WATER because he was hypoglycemic at birth.

My third child was a C-section because after 2 c-sections the risk of hemorrhage in natural childbirth is too great. Were it not for the wonders of modern medicine that brought about the Cesarean delivery, possibly I and many other women and their babies would be dead.

Pain meds are exceptionally helpful and not all women's bodies are created equal. We are all different and, typically, I have noted, even without being a midwife (hey), that it is usually the women who know they have a high tolerance for pain that choose to go the natural, no meds, or midwife route and hey, more power to ya. But for those of us with a lower pain tolerance, we need that extra help with the pain. Notice I said "need," not "want." There is a difference. If my epidural had not been stopped, maybe we would have discovered my son was stuck a lot sooner. Maybe he would have been delivered vaginally. 

If I want pain meds during childbirth - MY decision.

If I don't want to breast feed - MY decision.  

If I want an epidural - MY decision.

If I want a tattoo - MY decision.

If I want a tan - MY decision.

Boob-job  -  MY decision.

It's beyond a "choice" it's a decision and it's all mine to make.  

MY body, MY decision.

End of story.

We have pictures of my innards in a bucket, too, but I figured I'd spare ya from that reality.