The Sweetest Mother's Day Gift!

I write this letter while nursing my perfect little angel to sleep. My fingers clutched in her tiny fist; and it pains me to have any ill memories about her birth. But I do. I wish I didn’t. I am working through these memories and past the negative emotions, but the hardest one to deal with is something that you, dear doctor, decided to do to me.

I should be so proud. I set out to have a natural child birth and I succeeded, up against great odds. It was an out of body experience and I still can’t believe that I grew this tiny person inside of me and then birthed her, and now I am growing her still with only nourishment from my body. It’s truly amazing. And If my daughter ever comes across this letter, or remembers me talking about this experience, I want her to know that regardless of the negative moments of her birth I would do it again. I would do it again everyday to have her in my life. She is worth more then anything, and I would give my life for hers. Despite the day of her birth being the physically hardest day of my life, it also had the greatest pay off. She is the best thing I ever could have done. This experience does not cloud my unconditional love for her; or my elation to have the privilege to get to be her mother. 
 
Regardless of how fantastic the experience was, it is shadowed at the same time. I was diagnosed with preeclampsia at 37 weeks and I was given the weekend to start labor or I was going to be induced. I was so thankful for the opportunity because I was hell bent against being medically induced. I didn’t think I would be able to deal with the pitocin without taking the drugs. so I did everything I could to start labor. Multiple trips to my acupuncturist, reflexology, gallons of raspberry leaf tea, sex. Everything I could think of! Luckily we had a not-so-lucky plumbing issue in our basement and the stress pushed me over the edge into labor. 
 
I stayed home as long as possible, and had an amazing l&d nurse. I had discussed my birth plan with all the doctors and midwives in your practice and everyone told me they would support the birth I wanted. You yourself told me it would be a hands off experience, you were just there “if we needed anything.” Were you lying to me in your office? Just saying what this silly, hormonal pregnant woman wanted to hear, because on that day I surely would change my mind? Or did you truly believe what you were telling me? Because in the middle of the night, in the throes of labor I did not feel supported. 
 
I know you are a well respected physician in the community and you have delivered hundreds of babies. Women have raved about you to me. But I do not know how much experience you have with natural laboring women. Not being a women yourself, you could never imagine what the experience of giving birth feels like, but I never thought you would make me feel so violated and disrespected. 
 
My choice to be drug free was mocked by you. When my cervix stalled at 9.5cm and you suggested “I just push past it.” I told you to leave me alone you were offended and rude. After I labored alone for awhile and finally gave into the persistent requests to be checked, I was fully open and my baby had descended to +2 station. I was exhausted but I really did not want to labor on my back or push, but I was pressured into “letting the staff help” with directed pushing. 
 
You finally agreed to let me try on all fours, but you were not supportive. You would not help me to learn how to push. This was my first baby. My first experience. I know I wasn’t in the easiest position for you and it was the middle of the night, but the hospital was empty and you promised me that you would support me. 
 
While I was on all fours trying to find the power and angle to properly push, you placed your fingers inside of me with no warning and pulled hard on my perineum. It was the most painful moment of my birth. Possibly the most painful experience of my life. You did not ask. You did not warn. You did not tell me what to expect. Why? Because this is common practice to do to a laboring woman’s body? Because if I had had an epidural I wouldn’t have felt that extreme pain and you didn’t think about the fact that I was drug less? I have relived this moment over and over again in my mind. I see myself on that bed and hear the blood curdling scream that I let out over and over. 
 
In any other circumstances this would be sexual assault, but because I was in labor it’s OK? Because I was already in the throes of one of the most intense experiences of my life it was OK? Because you thought you were helping it’s OK? It’s not. You should have given me enough respect to ask. You should have believed in me and my body like you promised you would. My body didn’t need help. It needed more time. 
 
It is bad enough that the medical community has forced pregnant women to believe that they need epidurals to get through birth; and that it’s OK tear, and that laboring on their backs is better because it’s what’s convenient for you. In fact when I told you that tearing was a concern of mine, you scoffed at me and told me we would fix it. Like my concern was silly. This is my vagina we are discussing! You believe it’s OK to make decisions for my body. Decisions that I will deal with for the rest of my life without consulting me. Second degree tears do not have to be the new episiotomy. Especially since some of them are caused not by the baby, but by exactly what you did to me. All we need is more time. More time allows the body to open naturally and for the baby to descend on their own. No forcing them out. No forcing the tissues to open. No tearing and damaging such delicate skin and muscles who we depend on for a life after we give birth. 
 
This is the worst moment of my birth. The hardest moment to move past. And even worse, you probably don’t even remember me. If you needed to recall my daughter’s birth you probably couldn’t. Just another notch in your growing list of deliveries. You and this moment haunt me, and I am not even a fleeting thought to you. There is nothing I can do to change this birth experience. All I can do is take this with me for any future births I will have, and hope that by writing this letter I will save another women the agony of this same experience. And that maybe, just maybe, you will gain a little more respect for the laboring women and their bodies that you deal with on a daily basis. 
 
Kindest regards,
One of your former patients 
 
So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Her View From Home

Millions of mothers connected by love, friendship, family and faith. Join our growing community. 1,000+ writers strong. We pay too!   Find more information on how you can become a writer on Her View From Home at https://herviewfromhome.com/contact-us/write-for-her//

Robotics Kids Are Building More than You Can See

In: Kids
Robotics kid watching competition

These robotics kids are going to shape our future. I think this every time I watch an elementary, middle school, or high school competition. My thoughts go back many years to when my middle child, who was six at the time, went with my husband to the high school robotics shop. They were only stopping in briefly to pick up some engineering kits, but my child quickly became captivated by what the “big kids” were doing. He stood quietly watching until one student walked over and asked if he would like to see what they were working on. My son,...

Keep Reading

Foster Care Kids Are Worth Fighting for

In: Kids
Hand holding young child's hand

Sometimes foster care looks like bringing a child from a hard place into your home. Sometimes it looks like sitting at a ball field with a former foster love’s mom and being her village. He’s the one who has brought me to my knees more times than my own children. He’s the one I lie awake at night thinking about. He’s the one I beg the father to protect. He’s the one who makes me want to get in the trenches over and over again. It’s our Bubba. So much of the story is not mine to tell, but the...

Keep Reading

We Aren’t Holding Her Back—We’re Giving Her More Time

In: Kids
Child writing on preschool paper

When we decided to give our preschooler another year before kindergarten, I thought the hardest part would be explaining it to other people. I was wrong. The hardest part was the afternoon her teacher asked to talk. In that split second in the pick-up line, my heart sank. I assumed the worst. I braced myself for a conversation about behavior, about something we had somehow missed, about whether her strong personality was causing problems. Instead, it became the moment that confirmed what we already knew. We were not holding her back. We were giving her time. Our daughter is bright....

Keep Reading

A Life Lived Differently Is Not a Life Less Lived

In: Kids
Little boy running in field

My life changed on that beautiful autumn day. The thing is, nothing really happened. Not really. My life kind of went on as usual. A fly on the wall might even say it was a great day. I brought my 3-year-old son to an animal farm for a Halloween event. He was quirky as usual and a bit ornery that day. Aloof. “Come feed the baby animals,” I pleaded. No, thank you. Crowds of excited children? Absolutely not. Buckets of candy? You can keep them. My heart ached watching my beautiful, blonde-haired boy wander into a field alone, away from...

Keep Reading

Enjoy the Ride, Kid

In: Kids
Two people running up from the water at the beach

Last night I watched an episode of Shrinking. If you haven’t jumped into the series yet, it’s one of those that hits the heart hard- at least for me. The episode centered on the birth of a baby, while one of the characters grappled with the closing years of life. Spoiler alert: as the elder of the group cradled this new life in his arms, bridging generations across the hospital room, the moment of realization of how fast life goes hit like a ton of bricks. “Enjoy the ride, kid.” The final words of this episode are sitting with me,...

Keep Reading

Mommy, Will You Play With Me?

In: Kids, Motherhood
Boy sitting in middle of toys smiling

With four kids at three different schools, our days are full. Between sports practices, music lessons, clubs, rehearsals, games, meets, and playdates, it feels like we’re constantly heading somewhere. I love that my children are involved in activities, but occasionally, it’s nice to have some downtime. When I get a text or email that a practice has been canceled, it’s usually a huge relief. Last week, after-school sports were cancelled due to heavy rain. When I picked up my youngest son from school, I told him we’d be going straight home for the rest of the afternoon. He looked surprised....

Keep Reading

Could We Take a Page from the ’80s and Stop Overparenting?

In: Kids, Motherhood

I have a confession: Yesterday I let my 11-year-old play with fire. Like literally. We live in the country, there is still wet snow on the ground, and he’s done it with his dad at least 20 times. But yesterday was the fifth consecutive day of no school, and probably the twentieth consecutive day of him asking to have a small fire without dad. Part of me did it out of laziness. Part of me did it out of selfishness. And part of me did it out of nostalgia. Here’s the thing—when I was 11, I was already babysitting (like...

Keep Reading

A Big Brother Is His Little Sister’s First Friend

In: Kids
Big brother and little sister smiling at each other

He doesn’t remember the day she came home.But she has never known a world without him. From the beginning, he was there first. The first to reach for her hand. The first to explain the rules. The first to decide what was fair and what absolutely was not. He didn’t know he was being assigned a role. He just stepped into it. Big brother. She followed him everywhere. Into rooms she technically wasn’t invited into. Into games she didn’t fully understand. Into stories she insisted on hearing again and again. She wanted to do what he did, say what he...

Keep Reading

7 Is the Bridge Between Little and Big Kid

In: Kids
Girl sitting in front of dollhouse

I was in the middle of the post-holiday clean-up chaos when something hit me. My oldest daughter is seven, and while it feels like an age that doesn’t get talked about much, it really is turning out to be such a sweet spot. It hit me as we were redesigning her room. A change that occurred when she broke my mama-heart a few weeks prior by saying she didn’t think she wanted a princess room anymore. While everything in me wanted to try to convince her to keep it, stay small and sweet just a little longer, I knew I...

Keep Reading

So God Made a Gymnast

In: Kids
Young gymnast on balance beam

God made a gymnast with fearless grace, strength in her heart, and a fire in her spirit. He molded her courage, steady and true, and quietly whispered, “We believe in you.” He taught her balance when life feels chaotic and messy, to leap into her faith and stick each landing just right. When she stumbles, He is always right there to help her rise back up with faith in her soul and a spark in her eyes. Each floor routine with the grace of a swan; each move is a dream, all built on dedication and grit. God made her...

Keep Reading