I Left The Hospital Without An Identity
Every week after the ER visit took another piece of me.
By the time my water broke, I was hanging on by whatever was left.
We walk into the hospital, and all everyone sees is a pregnant woman whose body is going to fail her. Without discussion I am leashed to the bed by a heart monitor for myself and the baby. The monitor is no more than three feet long. My autonomy is taken before I even settle into the room.
As a nurse I know it is my care, my birth, and I have full ability to decline anything I don’t want or agree with. I also know how I expected this birth to go, and how I wanted it to go. But I don’t say anything, because what if something does happen?
They were the experts.
I stopped believing I was.
I don’t even raise a question. I stand or sit in the room with my three foot leash, in the windowless room, with bad fluorescent lighting and loud anxiety inducing beeping. Where I can see every jump in heart rate front and center.
My baby enters the world, and even though she is premature she is healthy and beautiful. I breathe a sigh of relief. I did it, we both survived the pregnancy and birth. It’s time to start putting the pieces that broke off of myself back into place.
I close my eyes for the first time, and in walks my husband’s entire family. Balloons, champagne, cake, excitement. I want them to leave, I haven’t rested, or cleaned up.Birth was still sticking to my legs. I wanted them to leave. But I couldn't bring myself to say it. What if they were offended? What if I had to explain myself? So I smiled. “Ya, she’s beautiful. We did a good job.”
It wasn’t long after my in-laws' intrusion that we were moved to another room and I started shaking uncontrollably. I thought this was another presentation of my anxiety.
My whole body is shaking. I can barely stand up. My teeth were chattering like I'm freezing in the arctic. Talking feels impossible. I am on the bed just willing my body to calm down.
And still I can't ask for help.
The nurse literally came into my room to do my vitals and I lied through my teeth that I was fine and I had no concerns.
It's called the Postpartum Shakes, and it is a normal physiological response to the drop in hormones and adrenaline after birth. Only nobody had told me that. So in the moment, all I knew was that my body wouldn't stop, and I couldn't make it.
Then the lactation consultant shows up. Before she even walked in, I already knew what I believed. I hoped that breastfeeding would work out, and if it did… Great. If it didn't, formula was a wonderful option too.
Then she started talking. Telling me how important it was to do everything in my power to make breastfeeding work, formula should be an absolute last resort. By the time she left, I couldn't hear myself anymore. I had replaced my own voice with hers in less than ten minutes.
And then 2 days later it was time to be discharged.
The nurse was standing there smiling, making sure the baby was safely strapped in. I looked at her “So that’s it? We just drive away now?”
Still smiling “Of course, we don’t worry about perfect little families like yours.” Then she turns and goes back into the hospital.
I crawl in the backseat with my daughter as she sleeps.
We pulled out of the hospital parking lot.
“Perfect little family” is playing on repeat… What if I’m not?
I remember staring out the window thinking.
I thought I'd feel different.
I didn't realize I had spent the last four months slowly disappearing.
And I had no idea what was left.
Still here,
Bethany
Protection, understanding, unruly confidence.
-Nettles
