Sunday, July 1/18
Today's post is kind of a funny (and quite personal) recollection of what my experience was during childbirth regarding dignity and modesty. The definition of modesty and dignity can sort of change from person to person, and I certainly struggled with being out of my comfort zone, being waaay more exposed and vulnerable around my husband, and lets be honest, it's never going to feel great in front of medical professionals- no matter how many people tell you that "they see it all the time!"
I think the lack of modesty really begins in pregnancy, but there is a definitive switch in how you feel and your comfort levels after you've given birth. I hope you enjoy laughing at my expense, I promise I don't mind. So, lets crack on and start at the beginning!
LABOUR
- During labour there are several times where I felt as though I was rather exposed. I wore some comfy clothes on the way into the hospital for my induction, under the impression that for the first little while I'll just be in clothes wandering around while labour begins. Wrong. We arrived, I went into the room and was immediately told to change into a gown and take everything else off. I could keep my bra on, but everything else had to go. I did keep my socks on just to feel slightly less naked.
- The bathroom in the delivery rooms are nice because they're private and it feels a bit nicer to have some space for yourself, but in my case there was very little sound-proofing (which would be bad if you had to use the bathroom- especially number 2) and I have a weird thing where I can't really focus all that well on peeing while people are talking. And after a while when I'm trying to concentrate hearing a "is everything okay in there?" just makes me feel very embarrassed. They also kept a little cup insert under the toilet seat so that every time I peed it would collect and they'd go and test it and look at it and then dump it out and flush. That didn't feel like the most comfortable experience for me I won't lie. It felt like I couldn't even pee in private although I know it's all for a good cause.
- The gowns! Because of my high-risk status and baby needing constant monitoring I didn't have a chance to just be up and wandering about, I was pretty much confined to the bed unless I had to use the bathroom or they wanted me to get up. This worked out since I was bare-butt and totally exposed, but when you're already heavily pregnant, huge AND contracting, not to mention dragging around a whole fricken array of IV tubes and bags, it doesn't leave you with much capacity to cover up your butt on the way to the bathroom, even if it is just across the room.
- Cervical checks and waters being broken are not very modest at all. Granted, as the patient with a pretty huge bump you can't really see what's going on down there, but having your legs drawn up to your chest while they feel around (with what feels like their entire forearm- I had a "long, narrow cervix" so this may not be your experience!) is not pleasant. Not only that, but it's pretty uncomfortable so you don't just have to worry about the fact a doctor is up to their elbow in your hooha, but it fricken hurts and it's not something I felt too great about when my parter was holding onto one knee and scrunching his face up at the shittiness of the whole situation/giving me sympathy nods and asking if I'm okay.
DELIVERY
(To prelude this section I must say I cannot comment on a vaginal delivery which I am certain has many, many moments where it feels as though you have zero modesty. I had an emergency caesarean section which is decently modest, but there are a few sensitive moments.)
- My c-section took place before midnight, and the following morning when I took my first steps (which hurt) I realized I had a catheter attached to me. A whopping great bag hitting my leg, full of urine. Where did it come from? When did they put that in? When can it come out? I asked for it to be removed and they did, but the rest of the questions remain unanswered.
- When I asked my husband if he saw any of the surgery all he could tell me was "there was A LOT of blood". Very reassuring.
- Being numb helps with the ignorance corresponding with the fact I was completely naked from the chest down, oddly, but the thought cropped up a few days after birth when I realized how low the scar is. I was pretty exposed to a lot of medical professionals.
- The clean up (done by my lovely labour nurse, Brenda) was also aided by the fact I was totally and completely numb at this point, also exhausted, overwhelmed and maybe a tad loopy, but I do remember my husband being asked to take the baby for a little walk while it was done, so I'm sure it wasn't pretty. I couldn't feel anything, but I know I was turned onto my side and wiped. I couldn't even begin to fathom what happened there. Did I poop in my numb state at some point without knowing!? Or was I just covered in blood and guts from the surgery and things just went everywhere... Who knows. I never thought to ask.
POST-PARTUM
- Within the first hour of being moved from the recovery room to the mother and baby unit, my baby's blood sugar was dropping and she needed to be fed. I originally intended to exclusively breastfeed (see that post here), and I knew the importance of colostrum but because of the surgery I couldn't very easily hold my huge 9lb baby and try to nurse her. It was recommended that I hand-express milk into a little cup that would then be syringe fed to my little one. I wasn't entirely sure how to hand-express milk, I was also exhausted, so the nurse basically grabbed my boob and milked me like a cow. I will be honest, I didn't care one bit, but it certainly felt strange after the whole childbirth experience to then be in bed with my baby nearby, and a nurse tugging on my boob to get colostrum into a cup.
- One of the first days after delivery (perhaps day 2) I got out of bed, very tenderly I might add, and as I slowly struggled to get up a fair amount of blood gushed down my leg, onto my sock and subsequently on to the floor. After the c-section I was in no mood to stop on my mission to get to the wheelchair 4 steps away, so I ignored the trail of blood I was leaving behind and sat down in the wheelchair, where a nurse kindly wiped my leg and my wonderful husband took my sock off and threw it away.
- The stretchy, thin underwear they give you. Oh man, they are the hugest things I have ever seen and yet I wish I had several pairs at home. They can get absolutely destroyed, they hold a pad the size of a loaf of bread and they don't bug your incision. They are not very attractive, and sure, if you can't bend down your husband has to put them on for you- but they are one of the least modest and favourite parts of post-partum life.
- For my first shower I was luckily at a Ronald McDonald house which has excellent facilities, including a shower that takes over the whole room. I was really looking forward to a shower as it had been a couple of days, but I still couldn't bend over or even really undress myself. My husband had to get me undressed, he set up a new pair of undies with a huge maternity pad in it for afterwards, and essentially held the shower head for me while I washed my hair and body. He helped with my legs because I couldn't bend to reach, and turned the water heat up nice and high and held the shower against my very sore back which felt amazing. If someone had asked me before labour if I'd ever let anyone wash me as blood ran down my legs, while I was vulnerable and couldn't move or bend I'd probably say I'd be more likely to wait to shower until I could help myself, but all dignity and modesty was out of the window by this point.
- Once I went to the bathroom in the NICU, changed my massive maternity pad, wrapped it up in the plastic and accidentally dropped it on the floor. Despite the fact I could barely move I squatted down onto the ground, picked it up and threw it away. For a while I thought I'd have to pull on the red cord to get medical assistance to get me back up, but slowly I managed to stand somewhat upright and walk out as though nothing had happened... despite it being a good 10 minutes later.
- My husband wheeled me to a private bathroom down the hall and waited outside while I pooped for the first time post-surgery. I don't think prior to this occasion I had ever even mentioned to my husband that I needed to poop ever, but desperate times called for desperate measures. They insisted I poop before being discharged, so when it finally happened on day 3 I was pretty happy, and we even high-fived when I walked out. This makes me chuckle every time I think about it, but it was a bit of a low point.
It's important to recognize what you want to get out of labour and delivery, and to know yourself well enough to plan accordingly. This applies to every aspect of delivery, but especially toward the levels of modesty and dignity you want to keep because it varies for each individual. I remember my Mum telling me that when she was in labour a marching band could have come in and she wouldn't have cared. I always had a feeling I would hate anything like that and knew I only wanted my husband in the room but I questioned if I'd really feel that way at the time- turns out I was right. It's good to trust your instincts and do whatever you can to be as comfortable as possible, but just keep in mind that there will almost definitely be embarrassing, difficult moments regarding your modesty, even if they are just challenges you face alone (^see above when I drop a pad on the floor and can barely get down to pick it up...) I hope you enjoyed the humiliation, that some of you can relate, and that those who are about to have a baby get a glimpse of what it might be like. Although some things probably seem daunting and embarrassing, but I promise I haven't really dwelled on many of these experiences, if anything they're a little bit funny. Thanks for reading!
Today's post is kind of a funny (and quite personal) recollection of what my experience was during childbirth regarding dignity and modesty. The definition of modesty and dignity can sort of change from person to person, and I certainly struggled with being out of my comfort zone, being waaay more exposed and vulnerable around my husband, and lets be honest, it's never going to feel great in front of medical professionals- no matter how many people tell you that "they see it all the time!"
I think the lack of modesty really begins in pregnancy, but there is a definitive switch in how you feel and your comfort levels after you've given birth. I hope you enjoy laughing at my expense, I promise I don't mind. So, lets crack on and start at the beginning!
LABOUR
- During labour there are several times where I felt as though I was rather exposed. I wore some comfy clothes on the way into the hospital for my induction, under the impression that for the first little while I'll just be in clothes wandering around while labour begins. Wrong. We arrived, I went into the room and was immediately told to change into a gown and take everything else off. I could keep my bra on, but everything else had to go. I did keep my socks on just to feel slightly less naked.
- The bathroom in the delivery rooms are nice because they're private and it feels a bit nicer to have some space for yourself, but in my case there was very little sound-proofing (which would be bad if you had to use the bathroom- especially number 2) and I have a weird thing where I can't really focus all that well on peeing while people are talking. And after a while when I'm trying to concentrate hearing a "is everything okay in there?" just makes me feel very embarrassed. They also kept a little cup insert under the toilet seat so that every time I peed it would collect and they'd go and test it and look at it and then dump it out and flush. That didn't feel like the most comfortable experience for me I won't lie. It felt like I couldn't even pee in private although I know it's all for a good cause.
- The gowns! Because of my high-risk status and baby needing constant monitoring I didn't have a chance to just be up and wandering about, I was pretty much confined to the bed unless I had to use the bathroom or they wanted me to get up. This worked out since I was bare-butt and totally exposed, but when you're already heavily pregnant, huge AND contracting, not to mention dragging around a whole fricken array of IV tubes and bags, it doesn't leave you with much capacity to cover up your butt on the way to the bathroom, even if it is just across the room.
- Cervical checks and waters being broken are not very modest at all. Granted, as the patient with a pretty huge bump you can't really see what's going on down there, but having your legs drawn up to your chest while they feel around (with what feels like their entire forearm- I had a "long, narrow cervix" so this may not be your experience!) is not pleasant. Not only that, but it's pretty uncomfortable so you don't just have to worry about the fact a doctor is up to their elbow in your hooha, but it fricken hurts and it's not something I felt too great about when my parter was holding onto one knee and scrunching his face up at the shittiness of the whole situation/giving me sympathy nods and asking if I'm okay.
 |
| I'm not actually in labour here (hence the smile) but I went in for regular non-stress tests to check baby's heartrate, and it gives you an idea of all the things you can be hooked up to. Now picture this bed totally flat and a Dr wielding a crochet hook around to break my water. Don't actually picture that. |
(To prelude this section I must say I cannot comment on a vaginal delivery which I am certain has many, many moments where it feels as though you have zero modesty. I had an emergency caesarean section which is decently modest, but there are a few sensitive moments.)
- My c-section took place before midnight, and the following morning when I took my first steps (which hurt) I realized I had a catheter attached to me. A whopping great bag hitting my leg, full of urine. Where did it come from? When did they put that in? When can it come out? I asked for it to be removed and they did, but the rest of the questions remain unanswered.
- When I asked my husband if he saw any of the surgery all he could tell me was "there was A LOT of blood". Very reassuring.
- Being numb helps with the ignorance corresponding with the fact I was completely naked from the chest down, oddly, but the thought cropped up a few days after birth when I realized how low the scar is. I was pretty exposed to a lot of medical professionals.
- The clean up (done by my lovely labour nurse, Brenda) was also aided by the fact I was totally and completely numb at this point, also exhausted, overwhelmed and maybe a tad loopy, but I do remember my husband being asked to take the baby for a little walk while it was done, so I'm sure it wasn't pretty. I couldn't feel anything, but I know I was turned onto my side and wiped. I couldn't even begin to fathom what happened there. Did I poop in my numb state at some point without knowing!? Or was I just covered in blood and guts from the surgery and things just went everywhere... Who knows. I never thought to ask.
POST-PARTUM
- Within the first hour of being moved from the recovery room to the mother and baby unit, my baby's blood sugar was dropping and she needed to be fed. I originally intended to exclusively breastfeed (see that post here), and I knew the importance of colostrum but because of the surgery I couldn't very easily hold my huge 9lb baby and try to nurse her. It was recommended that I hand-express milk into a little cup that would then be syringe fed to my little one. I wasn't entirely sure how to hand-express milk, I was also exhausted, so the nurse basically grabbed my boob and milked me like a cow. I will be honest, I didn't care one bit, but it certainly felt strange after the whole childbirth experience to then be in bed with my baby nearby, and a nurse tugging on my boob to get colostrum into a cup.
- One of the first days after delivery (perhaps day 2) I got out of bed, very tenderly I might add, and as I slowly struggled to get up a fair amount of blood gushed down my leg, onto my sock and subsequently on to the floor. After the c-section I was in no mood to stop on my mission to get to the wheelchair 4 steps away, so I ignored the trail of blood I was leaving behind and sat down in the wheelchair, where a nurse kindly wiped my leg and my wonderful husband took my sock off and threw it away.
- The stretchy, thin underwear they give you. Oh man, they are the hugest things I have ever seen and yet I wish I had several pairs at home. They can get absolutely destroyed, they hold a pad the size of a loaf of bread and they don't bug your incision. They are not very attractive, and sure, if you can't bend down your husband has to put them on for you- but they are one of the least modest and favourite parts of post-partum life.
- For my first shower I was luckily at a Ronald McDonald house which has excellent facilities, including a shower that takes over the whole room. I was really looking forward to a shower as it had been a couple of days, but I still couldn't bend over or even really undress myself. My husband had to get me undressed, he set up a new pair of undies with a huge maternity pad in it for afterwards, and essentially held the shower head for me while I washed my hair and body. He helped with my legs because I couldn't bend to reach, and turned the water heat up nice and high and held the shower against my very sore back which felt amazing. If someone had asked me before labour if I'd ever let anyone wash me as blood ran down my legs, while I was vulnerable and couldn't move or bend I'd probably say I'd be more likely to wait to shower until I could help myself, but all dignity and modesty was out of the window by this point.
- Once I went to the bathroom in the NICU, changed my massive maternity pad, wrapped it up in the plastic and accidentally dropped it on the floor. Despite the fact I could barely move I squatted down onto the ground, picked it up and threw it away. For a while I thought I'd have to pull on the red cord to get medical assistance to get me back up, but slowly I managed to stand somewhat upright and walk out as though nothing had happened... despite it being a good 10 minutes later.
- My husband wheeled me to a private bathroom down the hall and waited outside while I pooped for the first time post-surgery. I don't think prior to this occasion I had ever even mentioned to my husband that I needed to poop ever, but desperate times called for desperate measures. They insisted I poop before being discharged, so when it finally happened on day 3 I was pretty happy, and we even high-fived when I walked out. This makes me chuckle every time I think about it, but it was a bit of a low point.
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| Here I am looking GLAMOROUS. |
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