Originally published May 2009
As I get older and find myself in the phase of my life that experts like Christiane Northrup (The Wisdom of Menopause) claim is the time when women find their “voice”, I thought my outspokenness had just emerged. I realize now that I have been pretty vocal about my convictions from much earlier in my life. Take for example my first birthing experience.
I was pregnant throughout 1980 with Erin, my November baby. Determined to have a natural childbirth, (remember I am a hippie-at-heart) I planned everything in order to experience the birth of my child without drugs, intervention, or convention. I read all the popular books of the day, including, Immaculate Deception: a new look at women and childbirth in America (1977).
Everything started out fine, until I butt heads with a doctor who wouldn’t listen or take my needs and desires into consideration.
In the early morning hours of Sunday November 9, 1980, mild labor pains began. As this was my first child and I had no one but my husband (#1) to advise me, we headed to the hospital for what would become a very long wait. As I progressed slowly, my doctor was not needed until later in the day. When he did arrive, it became clear that, as his only patient of the day, was encroaching on his weekend plans. He set out to convince me to nix my natural childbirth plans and to accept his treatment of a breaking of the water and a pitocin drip. I refused, but eventually gave in on the water issue. With the support of my husband, I continually refused his aggressive approach. By late afternoon, I had all but stopped progressing, due in large part to the pressure I was under.
A decision had to be made or I knew I would end up with a caesarian section (confirmed by the doctor himself), a procedure I was convinced was the ultimate goal of the doctor who wanted to go home rather than nurture the whims of an obstinate patient. What took place next made me a kind-of folk hero to childbirth advocates of the area.
According to the fetal heart monitor, my baby was in no fetal distress.
I asked for a second opinion from another physician in the hospital. No one would oblige my request.
The doctor said, “do as I say or I will remove myself as your doctor.”
I called my Bradley birth instructor who had been braver than me and had given birth in her home to a healthy baby boy. She gave me the number of her doctor. We phoned Dr. Hai Abdul. He said if we could get to his alternative birthing clinic, he would deliver my baby.
I signed myself out of the hospital AMA (against medical advice).
We requested an ambulance to transport us the 60 miles to Azuza (CA). No one would honor the request.
My husband, his best friend, and big-bellied Me climbed into our Volkswagon Bug and drove the distance (labor pains returned and every bump in the road mattered!).
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