A Mommy Story

There are so many things that I like about my new job. I mean, I get to assist in bringing new babies into this world! I get to pass on wisdom and knowledge about caring for a tiny human being to new parents! I have the chance to hold a laboring woman’s hand and tell her that yes, she is capable of performing this incredible act of human endurance and strength.

But it’s not all sunshine and soft baby butts, either.

I can list several things that aren’t so pleasant about my job, too. Like the incessant charting of nearly every detail that we must perform, thanks to our litigious society. Or performing vaginal exams to check for cervical dilation – which is actually kind of exciting, until you think about the fact that you spend your day with your hand in other women’s vaginas.

There is one particular part of my job that I truly dislike, however. Actually, it’s not so much an aspect of my job as it is a type of patient. I’d like to tell you all that this type of patient is rare, but in my two months on the job I’ve already seen this type of patient appear at our doors several times.

(And for those who don’t know, for the sake of privacy and HIPPA, I won’t ever be telling detailed stories about individual patients. Any stories I share will be vague enough to remove all identifying information, or will likely be several stories combined into one sample patient.)

The patient type I am talking about is the woman who wants us to admit her and deliver her baby right away for no other reason than she’s sick of being pregnant. And she’s not even full-term yet.

I’ve seen women at 32 weeks declare that all they need from us is a little pitocin so they can get this baby out. When you try to explain to this patient that her baby is still too small to be born, and would likely face number of problems if born now, you’re dismissed and told that “My sister had a baby at 32 weeks and he’s fine!”

No amount of education gets through to some of them. They’re tired of being pregnant and want that baby out now, even though the pregnancy has no complications and there are no reasons to induce. Their own comfort is considered more important than the health and well-being of the baby they’re carrying.

It takes a lot to make me really angry, but this patient type often does stir up at least some small fury from deep within. I try to talk to them. I make every effort to explain why feeling “as big as a whale” is not a justification for a preterm birth. I remind them of the possibility of a stay in the NICU if their baby is born too young. I’m stunned by how often they brush all of the facts aside because, “I’m sooooo tiiiiirrred!”

I know too many people who had a premature birth forced upon them, some with good outcomes, some with tragic outcomes. My own mother still makes yearly visits to the grave of the daughter she lost at 32 weeks, born too soon 34 years ago. Does she wish she could have kept that baby in her a little longer? Hell yes.

Now, I remember I had my own share of complaining about the third trimester of pregnancy. Those of you who were reading when I was pregnant with Mira will remember that I was pretty fed up with being pregnant. But in no way did I ever consider the possibility of wanting to be induced just to get it over with sooner. Babies come out when they want to come out. And Mira waited until a full week after my due date to make her appearance. My doctor was impressed with my patience. Honestly, I was a little impressed, too.

Cordy was a scheduled c-section at 38 weeks because she was breech, and I’m still beating myself up over letting the doctor schedule it so early. I remember how angry she was, how even though she was a term baby, she wasn’t ready to come out yet. She wasn’t ready to feed, making all efforts at breastfeeding incredibly frustrating for both of us.

Despite my exasperation with patients who come to us hoping to hear the magic word “induction” because they’re tired of being pregnant, I still give them the same care I would any other patient. In fact, they often get even more of my attention, because I want to make sure they understand the seriousness of premature birth, and that just because we have the technology to grant them an early birth and provide support to a premature baby doesn’t mean we should use it if we don’t need to.

So we hook her up to the monitor, we check for any sign of contractions, check for good fetal movement and heart rate, check for any evidence of her water breaking, and if there’s nothing to be concerned about, send her home. This patient is never happy with that outcome, and the nurses are often called bitches quietly (or not-so-quietly) as they walk out the door. Like we’re trying to make them miserable for our own amusement.

I can handle that, though. Being called a bitch to keep that baby cookin’ just a little longer is fine with me. Because no matter the patient that walks in, my goal, and the goal of any nurse in my unit is the same: a healthy mom and baby.