I gave birth to my first baby in
Bangalore last March. Many of my friends in the UK had had water births and spoke
highly of them. I was keen to have a water birth myself and ideally a home
birth. At the time I was due there was no possibility of water birth in
Bangalore and no midwives were available for a home delivery so I decided
to go to the new and well recommended hospital which was only ten minutes’
drive from my home.
A little fearful of the stories about
people in India being strapped to a bed as soon as they went to the labor ward
and being pushed to have unnecessary
caesareans, I advised the two gynecologists I consulted at
the hospital that I would like to have as natural a birth as possible.
On the 5th of March 2011, I awoke at 6.30
am and my contractions were already only five minutes apart. I paced the
apartment for an hour before waking up my husband and then had some breakfast
and tried to keep myself busy, as I wanted to spend as little time as possible
at the hospital. Around 11.30 am my contractions were three minutes apart so we
went to the hospital and went straight to the delivery room. The room was
spacious and clean and although hooked up to the monitor, I was able to walk
around a little or get on my knees as discussed with the gynecologists. My
husband was there the whole time (the cricket was on in the background!) and
towards the end a nurse supported me on one side whilst he supported the other.
At some point a junior doctor came into the room (many people came in and out
and had a good look around during the whole process, at one point I think there
were about ten people in the room) and shouted at the nurse because I was not
in bed. The poor nurse tried to explain that I didn't want to be but was
quickly shot down by the junior doctor, I think I may have shouted at her at
this point and my husband also explained that the gynecologist was ok with this
when luckily one of them came in and told her it was perfectly fine. I was
given laughing gas and air, though I couldn't get the hang of it for some time
(I certainly didn't get the giggling fits you see on TV!) and managed well
through the contractions but after what felt like "one more push" for
the thousandth time, the gynecologist used a ventouse and then forceps. Not
exactly what I had planned, but not too far off. Baby Olivia was born at 6.30
pm, exactly 12 hours after my contractions had started.
As soon as Olivia arrived, my husband was
asked to go to the finance office because they hadn't received all of the
papers from the insurance company. He refused to leave but was constantly
pestered until he went. After cleaning up we moved to a recovery room which
again was private and perfectly fine, however we were again pestered by people
constantly coming in and out of the room and turning on the lights without
asking all through the night. The nurses came in at regular intervals to give me
(and sometimes Olivia) medicine, tablets or injections without explaining what
it was and what it was for and seemed extremely shocked that I would want to
know and didn't always know the answer. When Olivia had to go for tests,
injections or a bath they wanted to take her alone, without either myself or my
husband being present, however when we insisted then they did let us accompany
her. I was treated like an invalid and was asked to get into a wheelchair the
first time I left the room (they eventually let me leave when I insisted it was
really not necessary). As everything was fine with Olivia I wanted to leave as
soon as possible as we had hardly slept the night before due to the constant
comings and goings. However since I had
had stitches they wanted us to stay another night but said we could leave at 11
am the next day. We spent another sleepless night in the hospital and packed up
ready to leave at 11 but did not get out until 4 pm due to constant delays in
checks and paperwork.
My pregnancy, labour and postnatal period
all went well and I was satisfied with the antenatal care provided by the
doctors. The gynecologists had both spent time in the UK so understood my
concerns and wishes and kept me totally informed about everything. However
over the two days I spent in the hospital I would estimate 30 different people
(excluding personal visitors) came into my room. The constant stream of
people during and after labour (nurses, cleaners, catering staff, people
just having a look at the white woman), the giving of medicine without
explanation (including painkillers when I was not even asked if I would like
them) and the administrative issues did somewhat cloud the experience and
reinforce my hope for a home birth next time.
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