Policies and Procedures. What about People?

Today, I went to see the consultant regarding my cesarean (and my ever worsening SPD). On Monday, whilst at hospital for SPD treatment, I double checked the correct place to go with the “helpful” receptionist, that gave the impression she had no idea that I'd booked the appointment (through her, I remembered her seeming useless at the time) and asking if it was “essential” that I saw that doctor. Or a doctor at all. I stressed that it was, that the doctor had requested the appointment herself. You can see where this is going, and it didn't bode well for my cesarean appointment.

Of course, said doctor was miraculously unavailable on the day, and the midwives were under the impression I was there for a clinic check up (which I'd been careful to attend to on the Monday,while I was already at the hospital). A different, younger, less experienced, male doctor was sourced.

I arrived in my wheelchair, having been washed and dressed by hubby that morning, in fairly huge amounts of pain. I knew the hospital's standard procedure was to do cesareans at 39 weeks. I had researched (online, books) and discussed with midwives and my physios. I was hoping to have an adult discussion about the possibility of a slightly earlier section. Even a few days would have been a relief. I am not sleeping, due to pain. I am struggling to sit upright. I cannot stand, wash, dress. Many people comment that I should be in hospital. I often cry in pain if someone accidentally touches my legs/feet. I turn 39 weeks on the Sunday. Obviously, planned cesareans are not performed at weekends. The midwife I saw on Monday assured me that I was in such a state, that to have the section in the 38th week, especially the Friday, would not be a problem if I asked. Well, apparently, it is. They refused point blank to do it before the 39th week, so the Monday it is. 39+1. Not even two days early.

At this point hubby visibly lost it and I started to cry (partly in pain from sitting upright in a wheelchair for so long while they buggered about finding a doctor). They offered to call “my” doctor and double check. The young guy is obviously just following procedures, and is not taking into account my individuality at all. My doctor could not be contacted, but she will let me know if any changes to the decision are made.

37 weeks is considered full term. I have been having braxton hicks for two days now. I don't want to have a baby rushed to special care, but I am very ill. Apparently, my health, welfare and general stress levels (and that of my poor mother, husband and son who are bearing the brunt of my care and illness) is completely irrelevant as long as they cover their asses so that I don't sue. Nice. I feel like a fucking incubator, not a person. I do care, so much, about the baby's health, that's why I stopped taking my medication a week before they advised I'd need to. And the baby's health is the ONLY thing getting me through the day. The thought of holding him or her, and it all being over. Being able to recover. I just cannot see how I will get from now to then. Every day, I wake up (after a maximum of 4 hours sleep) worse than when I went to bed. And every night, I go to bed feeling worse than I did that morning. Three weeks to go. It doesn't sound like a lot to a health person. But I can't see beyond my next dose of paracetamol, for all the bloody good it does. All I can hope is that the baby spontaneously decided to be early....like tomorrow!