Kira, 24 years old, Yekaterinburg.
"Let's start with the fact that I consciously wanted to become a mother from the age of 15. In my youth, I dreamed of four children, and I thought that in such an impulse the main thing is a man who shares your life goals, as well as willpower, since four kids - this, in my opinion, is a strong-willed step. How wrong I was!
* Even the first child - and I have one baby so far - is not an effort of will, it is literally a war with oneself. I will say right away that the child was planned and very desired. But fears about everything in the world did not evaporate anywhere. Despite the fact that clinically it was mine, and the birth was quite easy by doctors’ standards and took only 3.5 hours, according to my feelings, I literally visited hell. And my journey there began from the first minute of the contractions that began. I am quite sensitive to the signals of my own body in “ordinary” life and pick up the subtlest “bells” that signal illness. So the bell alarm that began to sound in my head during contractions was impossible to ignore or calm down.
* Despite the fact that I gave birth in a modern private clinic with highly qualified doctors who never left my side from the moment of the first contractions, I was terribly scared. It’s scary, because during the 9 months of pregnancy I was so accustomed to a “stable state” that the very thought that everything was about to change dramatically and this was INEVITABLE did not give me peace. I was really looking forward to meeting my daughter. But more than that, I only dreamed that someone would hit me hard on the head with a heavy object, and I would pass out for five hours, just not to be in the thick of these events.
* Contractions are an insidious thing. When you think things can't get any worse, you're absolutely sure it gets even more painful. And so on for several hours in a row. Worse than Chinese torture! You never know how bad it will be next time. All the advice “breathe”, “bend over”, “relieve tension from the lower back” that sounded in my head after studying tons of materials for expectant mothers instantly evaporated. All that was left were the animal instincts that kept saying: “Stop this stress, friend!” And a reality that said: “Okay, but not in the near future.”
* If you want to know what the road to hell looks like, I can tell you. It is paved with cold hospital tiles, exactly the same as in my delivery room. And if you are planning to give birth, then you will learn this path by heart. From hell to the couch and back- this can be called the last hours of contractions before pushing and childbirth.
* Pushing is actually very painful. No not like this. This is very painful. So much so that you don’t fully understand whether you’re still alive, or whether it just seems like it to you. Therefore, do not hesitate to ask the doctors who are supervising you at these moments if everything is okay and if you are conscious. They are experienced people and understand everything.
* The moment when a child's head emerges from you can be called the most merciless in the entire childbirth procedure. It is at this second that you remember that your coordination now largely determines whether your child will receive a birth injury. And here your strength leaves you so much that you cannot control what is happening, and only some internal resource of the body allows you to continue what you started. You can't even scream in pain. Which, by the way, plays into the hands of midwives. Because they believe that a child should not come into this world under the frantic yelling of his mother.
* It's finished! They took the baby out of you! And they show it to you. But he's blue! Blue! What the heck! You start to worry again. Frantically trying to count the number of fingers on his hands, is there six of them? A physically exhausted body begins to finish itself off psychologically. Adding to this burning cocktail of what just happened a feeling of anxiety, guilt for one’s own Silly questions, disgust at the slimy baby, and embarrassment for having such feelings towards a long-awaited child. The advantage of this period is that you absolutely do not feel anything that is happening below you. There, in the meantime, the placenta is born, or you may have ruptures stitched up.
* You expect that a feeling of all-encompassing euphoria and love will cover you at any moment, but instead of it there is only a baby placed under your side and fear. Who is he? God, he's so strange! I'm afraid to touch him! What if I break it!
True, after a while (it’s different for everyone!) these thoughts go away and in their place comes what all mothers should feel: love, acceptance and care. And these emotions come out of nowhere, but at the same time you realize that you no longer remember how you lived without them.
I thought for a long time whether to write in “Planning” or “Pregnancy”, but finally decided here. I almost didn’t write, but I read the forum constantly. I apologize in advance to those who may be upset by my story. And remember - she is only mine. Everything will be ok!
12/31 - I take a pregnancy test for the first time in my life. Two stripes! I clearly remember 2 thoughts in my head - “It’s a boy!” and all will be well!" The first one turned out to be correct. The second one, unfortunately, is not.
January 30 - I sign a contract for pregnancy management, take all the required tests. I'm 29 and have never been sick. All tests are perfect. I have no toxicosis and generally feel excellent.
24.02 - first screening. Everything is perfect with both blood and ultrasound. The doctor confirms our guess about the boy. At home we watch the disc and are surprised that there is already a real person there!
23.03 - I donate blood for the second screening and calmly leave for a business trip
03.26 - my doctor calls and says that the test is not very good, but urges me not to worry and calmly wait for the ultrasound at 20 weeks. I'm not an alarmist, so I wait calmly. The baby inside me is growing, I'm looking forward to the movements.
18.04 - I go for an ultrasound scan at the Genetic Center. I have already seen my analysis, AFP is as much as 182 units, but the doctor assures that even with this result everything can be normal. I'm still calm. My baby appears on the monitor. I am happy and amazed at how he managed to grow, I see his movements. The doctor looks at something, then says that things are bad. She calls a second doctor, who confirms the diagnosis - Arnold-Chiari syndrome type 2, internal hydrocephalus, sacrococcygeal meningocele. Termination of pregnancy is definitely recommended. The period at that time was 20 weeks and 4 days according to ultrasound.
04/21 - I’m at my doctor’s office, getting a referral for an interruption and handing over everything necessary tests. In the evening of this day, for the first time I feel timid tremors within myself. I'm sobbing wildly. Well, why exactly after, when I already know that there will be no child?!
23-28.04 - trying to go to the hospital. It turns out that it is not so easy to terminate a pregnancy at this stage if there is no clear conclusion that the fetus is not viable. I don't have one. This child can be carried to term and given birth, but it would be a great success for both him and me if he dies in childbirth. They explain to me that after 22 weeks I will definitely have to carry the pregnancy to term, because... not a single doctor will undertake to interrupt her if there is no direct threat to my life and the child is alive. I am definitely in favor of interruption. Finally I find a maternity hospital where they are ready to take me. Term 21 weeks and 5 days.
04.28-04.05 - they inject me with gel to prepare the cervix, give me injections and IVs. This is the first pregnancy, so all this takes a lot of time - the body is not ready for an abortion.
04.05 - in the evening the water breaks, the doctor arrives and suggests waiting until tomorrow and starting stimulation in the morning labor activity. I agree.
05.05 - oxytocin drips all day, contractions begin in the evening. An epidural is given immediately. After about 40 minutes, a miscarriage occurs. I'm not in pain or scared. Oddly enough, I feel very relieved. It takes another 15 minutes to remove the placenta, antibiotics, cold, and I return to the room. Already alone.
05/08 - after a follow-up ultrasound I am discharged. The uterus contracts well, the cervix is not damaged. I receive instructions to take precautions for 3-6 months and return with new pregnancy on time.
10.05-15.05 - I go for antibacterial therapy
20.05 - I pick up the fetal autopsy report. A clear cause of the pathology has not been established, but a latent infection is most likely. The recommendations are the same, plus when planning begins, tests for hidden infections and treatment, if necessary, for both spouses.
It really was a boy, weight 490 grams, height 29 cm. It hurts to read these words.
That's all, this is the end of my first pregnancy. We were together for 23 weeks and 5 days and I will never forget any of them. This may sound strange, but I am grateful that modern science and medicine have given me a chance to correct nature’s mistake. I feel a huge relief that I didn’t have to give birth to a sick child or carry the pregnancy to term and only think that it would be better for him to die in childbirth.
Now I am recovering and preparing for a new attempt. I really want to believe that the second and subsequent times everything will be fine.
Thanks to everyone who read to the end. Sorry if I upset anyone. I would be grateful for examples of successful pregnancies after an unsuccessful first one - I really need to hear such things now.
I hope to be back on this forum as soon as possible.
This is not a festive and cheerful miniature at all.
One day I became pregnant and was about to give birth. It was necessary to give birth - and the husband was infertile, and his age was already approaching, after all, 33 years.
Ask why your husband didn’t get treatment? He didn’t want to, or rather he started, but since this is not a quick question, he chose vodka. Ask - why did you stay with this and not get divorced? But because since childhood I have been alone - no girlfriends, really, no friends, of course. I married someone who stayed for a long time.
To be honest, at the age of 19 I did not give birth to this man, and nightmare I couldn’t imagine that I would marry him. But, as they say, man proposes, but God disposes. And when I got ready, I was 24 years old; he could no longer give birth to my husband.
I didn’t come up with the fact that my husband was infertile - we went to the hospital and got checked. Naturally, if a woman cannot conceive, then it is her fault. But they checked me - everything is fine, but he has 2% alive.
This relates to the question – why women don’t give birth.
So, one day I became pregnant, and not from anyone, but from a loved one. It was love at first sight, and not stupid satisfaction of one's lust.
How happy I was, how I was waiting for this child!
The pregnancy was excellent, all tests were normal, I went to the doctor as needed. I didn’t even have toxicosis, I didn’t crave anything from food, I gained 8 kg, in general, everything was great.
It's time to go to the maternity hospital.
I knew that the time had come and I definitely had to go, but something was holding me back. On the same day, the gynecologist who was observing me called me at home, and I went.
Considering that I had an excellent pregnancy, I did not choose some “cool” maternity hospital, and went to the one that was attached to our area.
I arrived at the maternity hospital in the evening, at night I started having contractions, and in the morning it became really painful. At 8 o'clock in the morning I had an ultrasound and was examined by the manager. department, she said that everything was fine and I would give birth by 10 pm.
This is where my torment began. I didn’t sleep that night, of course I didn’t eat anything, the pain was terrible.
Experienced women told me that in order for everything to end well, you need to pay your doctor who will deliver the child. My birth was supposed to be delivered by the same head of the department who examined me. I paid, saying that I was grateful for everything in advance.
This is where my suffering begins to continue. The water broke at 6 p.m., and the terrible pain continues. The cervix dilates only three centimeters. I ask for some painkiller - I can no longer stand it, I’ve been suffering for about 10 hours. They put lidocaine through my spine. It helps, but only for about 10 minutes.
It's already one in the morning, I start begging to be done C-section, to this my doctor tells me that I have no indication for a cesarean section. And only when she took it and once again listened to the fetal heartbeat, and really heard nothing, they began to prepare me for the operation.
What happened next was also interesting.
First they gave me an injection of lidocaine, running something over my stomach, the doctor asked:
- Do you feel it?
“Yes,” I answered.
Then they gave me more.
- Do you feel it?
- Yes!
I heard the doctors talking.
- You must have been a drug addict before, since you feel everything! – said one of the doctors.
Then they gave me general anesthesia, and I no longer felt anything.
I woke up at dawn in intensive care. She started asking for a doctor to see her to find out what was wrong with the child. The doctor who delivered me arrived in some kind of crumpled state. She told me creepy story that the child had the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck THREE TIMES and would not survive at all.
By 10 o’clock my doctor came to see me in the intensive care unit again, and I gave her my “hundred hundred” and the remaining money, since there was nowhere to put it in the intensive care unit.
At first they said that I could go and look at my child, but then I was transferred to another department, and everyone fell silent.
I spent 5 days in the gynecology department, and only before discharge I learned that the child died 10 hours after birth.
My relatives were in the hospital at that time and learned about the tragedy immediately; they spoke with the doctor who delivered the child. As my mother later said, she was shaking all over, and she said: “Sorry, this is the first time this has happened to me in 20 years.” At least I returned the phone, but thank you!
In general, other interesting things happened in this hospital.
My relatives brought me processed cheese. The kind in a round box containing cheese curds cut into triangular slices. There were two such boxes - some cheese curds with bacon flavor, and others with mushroom flavor. Later, on the phone they asked me:
- Which cheese did you like best?
- Like which one? They gave me only one box, and it was half empty.
Then they brought me more chicken soup to the hospital, and I was even happy when I saw small chicken pieces in the can of soup. “What a great thing they thought of doing!” - I thought. It turns out that half a chicken was also included with the soup, but it mysteriously disappeared.
Apparently, the nurses in this hospital were completely starving!
After being discharged, I went to a pathologist to find out the cause of the child’s death, he said that there was hemorrhage in almost all organs, but otherwise the child was absolutely healthy.
Ah, those two words “if only”!
If I had gone to another hospital..., if I had had a caesarean section right away..., if..., if....
And also our doctors-professors.
A bad neurological disease happened to me, and then one doctor helped me.
Then he helped me, I thank him for that, then I began to notice bad signs of behavior that were not there before. I told my professor about this. He advised me to take herbal tablets. Meanwhile, my condition became worse and worse. And only when I was examined under the guidance of another doctor, then it turned out that everything had already started and I was disabled.
If he had sent me for examination on time, I would be healthy now.
If...
And my professor told me: “Sorry, this is my oversight.”
In short, everyone is willing to take boblos, and good ones at that, but they don’t want to do anything. Nothing touches anyone except money!
Reviews
This is, of course, scary... I can imagine women in labor who have no money, if that’s what money is for. I don’t understand how to live with this anymore...
I had a friend in prison - he was a murderer, a deeply unhappy man, who slowly went mad and was shot dead on a tall chimney of a boiler room in the zone by a sniper.
Nikolai. I myself read his conviction, trying to help legally, since the fate of him and his family shocked me.
He lived in the Lugansk province in the late 80s, was married, had two children, was happy... Once his youngest son was playing with his elder son on the street with matches and paint, the elder one holding the paint caught fire in his hand and the can from which he was pouring paint trying to start a fire... When his hand was slightly burned, the older one threw the can aside in fear and hit the younger one with it... The fire and paint burned the legs of a three-year-old child. The children ran home and the parents called an ambulance. The doctor examined the child’s burns and injected him with a painkiller, and the child and his mother were taken to the hospital... by the time he got there he died, it turned out that the child couldn’t be injected with this painkiller, the doctor didn’t test the child’s body’s reaction, and the result was death from an allergy to the drug. The child was buried, the eldest was strongly scolded... The mother's reaction to the death of her son occurred immediately in the hospital - her brain could not stand it and she went crazy, withdrawn into her own world... Her father and husband Nikolai - a guy under 35 years old - began to blame the doctor for everything ... It's no joke, son and wife... The loss was great. The main thing is that Nikolai tried to talk with the doctor, hear his explanations and the realization that it was his fault, because of his lack of professionalism, that his son died. But the doctor avoided him, was rude on the phone and said go complain to management. It ended with Nikolai tracking down this doctor in the hospital, entering the office and demanding an explanation, there was a patient in the office at an appointment and the doctor impudently ordered to immediately leave, pushing Nikolai out the door... 17 stab wounds, 15 already in the body convulsing with death, the second blow fell as if in the heart... 10 years in prison, the man was slowly going crazy from the injustice of the world, after five years in the zone he climbed onto the chimney of the plant and demanded the prosecutor to sort it out, since all his complaints were rejected. There he was shot by a sniper, because otherwise he didn’t want to go down, but the prosecutor arrived and the result was the same. This is how others live or lived... Forgive me for writing about this... I found a memory after your lines. That's why my soul is empty.
Finally, that longed-for day came when a wonderful, gorgeous, kind auntie in a white robe told me that I was pregnant - after 7 months of agonizing wait!!! Finally, I can, with my nose in the air, walk past the pharmacy that was fulfilling its annual plan for selling tests on me; finally, I don’t have to dive stealthily into the toilet, clutching a thin strip in my sweaty fist, hoping for a miracle; I don’t have to start my new day ritually with a thermometer in one intimate place, you don’t have to lie with your legs upside down to the accompaniment of your rather snoring husband, so as not to miss a single milligram of valuable fluid.
What a thrill I felt throughout my entire pregnancy can only be understood by a mature woman who has a very old son, who is entering the nasty age of a teenager with an already inexorable hint of a future mustache, and who realizes that this time is the very, very last in her life. Having already had one very joyful experience in the past of bringing a baby into the world, I firmly told myself, my beloved: “This time everything will be completely different.” Firstly, my beloved husband will fuss around me, dabbing my sweaty forehead, massaging my back and telling me tirelessly all the time how he loves, adores, dreams, ....,..., etc., etc. Secondly , wonderful doctors - attentive, confident and calm, monitoring the process and taking my baby into their caring hands. Of course, we can’t live without a nurse; she will be nearby, kindly ask leading questions and encourage my husband and me. All this will take place in a large, bright room in almost home environment. How could it be otherwise if human progress has reached the point where teeth can be treated without pain, and giving birth without experiencing fear and terrible loneliness. Yes, and you yourself have achieved something in this life and the feeling nurtured over the years self-esteem It just screams that you deserve it.
So, having finally reached 30 weeks (!), after a long search, surveys, examinations, having decided on a maternity hospital and putting aside money as a guarantee of a beautiful ending, I began to calmly and happily wait for the very moment for which everything was started, in fact .
On the evening of April 6, 2003, being already 33 weeks pregnant, having no premonitions and generally no problems in this life, she calmly received guests, set the table and, chirping sweetly, enjoyed life. By 9 pm, however, I began to feel some discomfort just below my belt - my tummy began to behave somehow strangely, tense and stiff every 10-15 minutes. This has happened before, only 2-3 times a day, so I decided not to fuss and wait a little. Very soon I had to scratch the back of my head and, slightly not caring about the guests, blew on the phone. The doctor advised me to take relaxing pills to suppress the process. Only half an hour later my husband was galloping towards the phone to call an ambulance. Then this terrible word sounded for the first time - contractions. After 40 minutes, we got bored waiting, and besides, I began to go berserk from the pain that was tormenting me every 5 minutes. We plunged into our rattling car and rushed at top speed to the maternity hospital, not caring about all the red, yellow and green.
We went to the 15th, because at the moment, out of all the houses that have conditions for bearing premature babies. only he functioned. Thank God, they accepted me, instantly, in the best Soviet traditions, pushing my husband out the door of the maternity hospital (!). Then the Chinese torture began. In my opinion I needed urgent help or at least an explanation of the situation, according to their concepts, I had to urgently dictate to them a questionnaire of 30 (at least) points. Even then I could remember my name, but I was not able to tell them the number and address of the registry office where my husband and I signed 11 years ago, because by that time I wanted only one thing - to die, the main thing was to die quietly and without torment. In general, after about thirty minutes I found myself in a large, dark and completely empty hall. For the next 6 hours, the world shrank for me to the size of one blind light bulb above my head. Because there was no one else to complain to and ask why everything worked out for me through....., there was no one else either. So she listened to me. The doctor came to see me as many as 4 times and was silently next to me for exactly as long as it was necessary to get my hand into... you know where - for the dilation of the uterus. Girl, by appearance resembling a nurse, sat in the next room, and in response to another plea for a drink or at least to wet my lips, she told me to breathe through my nose and not my mouth. I’m not an expert here, of course, but, in my opinion, all the manuals on this topic say exactly the opposite, and have you tried breathing through your nose during contractions every 5-7 minutes?! During the 6 hours of my whining, they showed mercy to us with a light bulb twice. Wherein kind girl told me to thank her for “actually sitting here with me.” Why did I need her sitting? After 4 hours of lying under a drip, the contractions could not be stopped, they continued just as intensely, and with my foggy brains I realized that I would still have to give birth here and now.
I won’t describe the birth, and it’s clear that my hope for the “wizard in the blue helicopter” quickly evaporated. A couple of screams that burst out of me at the moment of pushing, when my little one was actively asking to come out, caused such an ambiguous reaction from the people around me that if I had not subsequently heard piercing screams from the birth room, I would have decided that everyone else was silent as fish. I felt like a light ghostly haze, since I existed among them only in the third person. I heard the first human word addressed to me only from a neonatologist who came to see the little one. But by that time I no longer expected anything, didn’t hope for anything, and stopped looking tenderly into the eyes of armored women in white coats and wagging my tail like a hungry dog, hoping for a handout.
The only thing I wanted to know was the name of my doctor. GORBACHEV. I will never forget this surname - as a symbol of my humiliation and most negative emotions in my life. She may be a good doctor, girls, but how can you be so tough, callous and indifferent?! I wonder if she would wish the same birth for her daughter?
I finished it in accordance with the best Soviet traditions (it reminded me very much of my first birth) by lying on a gurney for 3 hours near the elevator (a common place, by the way). A medical woman passing by with a well-fed baby in her arms, tripped over me, and loudly asked why skinny people give birth to such plump babies, and healthy ones (that’s me) have such small ones. I felt painfully sorry for my tiny boy and for myself too, and I cried.
Then it continued in the same spirit. The room turned out to be long, like a pencil case, dark and very cramped. In 4 days, I had 4 roommates, since girls with miscarriages, stillbirths, and especially severe cases were placed in this ward. My room was a clot of pain; from morning to evening there was whining, moaning and sobbing. When my husband, standing under the window, tried to ask me in a whisper: How is our...? - the girl on the next bed, whose twins had died, having lived for 20 minutes, screamed that she wanted to get out of here immediately, that she didn’t want to live and that she couldn’t hear all this anymore. I felt incredibly sorry for her, but it’s not my fault.....!!!
It seemed to me that this nightmare in my life would never end. But everything in life passes and thank God. I was no longer even offended when I learned from my friends that when they were discharged from the maternity hospital, they received wonderful gifts for their babies. Needless to say, I had never heard of this - just a trifle to complete the picture. The holiday didn't work out...
The last time I cried at home, I came across the money set aside for my bright, joyful birth - my ticket to a happy life.
