How I Learned to Stand Up for Myself and to Say No, Too.
January 23, 2009
The following post contains some details that may disturb some readers. Death, trauma, and pregnancy complications are discussed in some detail. If you are pregnant – stop reading this. Now. You can always read it later – but you don’t need this in your mind right now. Trust me. If you are sensitive to situations that involve medical complications or blood – stop reading this. Just figure that whatever happened from here? It taught me to stand up for myself.
Six years ago today, I was waiting around to check into Rose Medical Center in Denver for my inducement to have my baby girl. GeekDaddy and I kept calling the hospital to find out when I could come in, because seriously – 1/23… what a cool date for a birthday!
But apparently, there was some sort of “post-9-eleven” baby boom going on, so the Labor & Delivery floors of pretty much every hospital in town were overly full and there were women laboring in gurneys lining the hallway at the time. Something that just makes the whole experience joyous, I’m sure.
I was happy I had an induction scheduled, because otherwise they would’ve sent me home to “wait it out” despite the fact that I had been in non-productive labor for 72+ hours by the point I actually got checked into the hospital.
What’s “non-productive labor”? Oh, it means I was in full-on contraction mode… but my timing betweeen contractions was erratic. They tell you “come in when your contractions are 5 minutes apart.” Mine were along the mode of “5 mins, 5 mins, 20 mins, 5 mins, 5 mins, 16 mins, 5 mins, 4 mins, 18 mins…” For nearly 3 days.
This wasn’t exactly unexpected by me. My mother never went into labor “naturally” with either my brother or I either. I had told my OBs this and been reassured that they would “deal with that if it came to it.”
Their lax attitude should’ve been a huge red flag to me, but for some reason, wasn’t. I blame it on pregnancy hormones and an aversion to actual confrontation. You see, I should’ve been scheduled for a c-section, not an inducement. My due date had been pushed back from 1/6 to 1/11 and finally to 1/14. They finally scheduled me for the 23rd to be induced strictly because I had gotten so whiny. You know, given that I had such severe Hyperemesis Gravidarum that I had been on two different anti-emetics the whole way through my pregnancy and had been so sick for months that my students thought I must have cancer and be going through chemo… until I started showing.
Here’s the thing… my OB practice, which consisted of 5 doctors at the time, dropped the ball bigtime. Over the course of 8 months, I cycled through all 5 doctors – so I got to see everyone at least once. Since they rotated their on-call so they wanted to make sure you’d seen the person doing your delivery at least once. Every single one of them I went over my “history” with. I’m not going to burden you with details – let’s just suffice to say that at 36/37 I was extremely high risk for the complication that happened. I retold my concerns to every single one of those doctors and wasn’t listened to. I know, because they wrote it down several times in my chart – and it would’ve been a devestating blow if I had filed a malpractice suit.* (Reasons I didn’t are below.)
What complication? A condition called placenta accreta – which is the medical term for saying that the placenta attaches ‘abnormally’ or too firmly to the uterine wall. In my case, I had the rarest form of it, placenta percreta. Which means that my daughter’s placenta had actually grown through the uterine wall.
When I checked into the Emergency Room at 2 a.m. on the 24th (when they finally called us to come in) the guy doing the check in watched as I was rocked by a strong contraction more than once and said “I don’t understand, you are checking in for an induction, but you look like you’re already in labor…” Breathing shallowly, I said “I am.”
“Then why are you checking in for an induction?” he asked. “Because my contractions are not consistent and haven’t been for 3 days and you’d just send me home otherwise.” I replied trying not to bite my lip until it bled. “Oh… well, that makes sense – let’s get you up there then, how about we get you a wheelchair?” Fabulous!
I had to retell my story to the L&D folks upstairs, who gave me a room (with a pullout sofa for my husband) and said “well, your induction won’t start until the morning… your doctor should see you in about 5 hours… but you look like you’re in pain. When was the last time you slept? Would you like us to give you some Morphine so you can sleep for a bit?”
“Yes, please?” I said and then threw up on the floor… an action that I repeated but with “liter jars” repeatedly for the next 17 hours. Of course, past a certain point, they wouldn’t let me have water, so I just repeatedly vomited stomach acid. Because there’s some bizarre logic that says it’s better not to aspirate water into a breathing tube if you need surgery than it is stomach acid. Personally, I found the diluted stomach acid less painful.
So I slept for 5 hours and my poor husband didn’t – because some woman down the hall sounded as if they were torturing her repeatedly. In my morphine sleep, I kept thinking they should put that woman out of her misery and “put her down” gently. I guess I thought she was a wounded animal?
At 7:30 a.m. we wanted to know where the doc was. The nurse said she was just down the hall finishing another delivery, she’d go get her for us. The doctor who came in – whose name I will not reveal – had seen me only 1 time. Her first question was “who scheduled you for an induction?!” Um, the office?
It seems no one had told her. So instead of prepping by reading my file the night before, she just had to wing it. She wasn’t pleased. She had them ’start’ the induction with promises to be back “later that afternoon” after sleeping a bit. If you don’t know what an induction entails, you can Google it. I’ll spare you the details and the controversy. In fact, I’ll spare you most of the details until after the birth of my beautiful daughter at 6:50pm on January 24th… Six years ago tomorrow! The only thing I’ll say is “remember the liter jars I was using for the repetitive stomach acid upheavals – they will come in to play again.”
GeekDaddy accompanied Buttercup down to the nursery for the usual procedures while I stayed in the room with my epidural and my semi-delirium and my doula and the OB who had just delivered my daughter. We were chatting and I kept thinking “when will they bring the baby back? Why are these women looking so serious?“ What I didn’t know was that it had been 20 minutes and no placenta. I didn’t even know enough to know what they were waiting for. Finally, the doc said “I’m just going to reach in and get that placenta out manually…” and then all Hell broke loose.
Somewhere in the midst of the realization that the placenta was coming out in pieces and that I was now bleeding uncontrollably, the doc managed to get me to blurt out a simplified version of my medical history. She was rapidly being covered in blood and right after telling my doula to ‘push the button, scream if you have to, we need help!’ she started swearing. I can look up in my head right now and remember her saying “F**k! Why weren’t you scheduled for a c-section!?!” and then going on to describe in graphic terms the conditions of the placenta, my uterus, and the now gaping hole that was in the side of it. Trust me when I say you never want to hear an OB tell you that your uterine wall is “all ratty in there!” – but there’s some humor to it this many years later. I wonder if there’s a technical medical term for a ‘ratty uterine wall’?
Anyhow, I think I’ll kind of slide over the next bit. Because it’s getting more detailed than I usually feel comfortable with when I recount it to folks. Over the next several hours, I received super-human efforts and amazing care in the effort to save my life. 9 pints of blood transfusions – they based the amount needed by the volume of blood that nurses had “sponged and scooped up off of the floor” into the 2 different liter jars that I previously mentioned. They came to the conclusion that I was going to die without surgery.
My husband briefly held up my daughter once, so I could see her, just in case it was the only time I did. 16 nurses, doctors, and other hospital personnel were with me at one point… I had 6 IVs in, 3 in each arm. Then the OB, whom I blame for none of this, did something astounding for a doctor in my experience. She asked if “anyone in the room” had any ideas on how to save me other than getting me into an OR for an emergency 
hysterectomy? The Deck Doc (a young woman going through her OB rotation) piped up that she had seen a (then) experimental surgery a couple of weeks before that was a radiological procedure called Uterine Artery Embolization – usually used for Fibroid treatment, it entails threading a tube up the femoral artery and injecting polyvinyl microbeads into the artery that supplies the blood to the uterus, blocking off the blood flow. In this case, I was the 5th person ever at Rose to undergo the surgery rather than emergency hysterectomy. I know because I was awake throughout the procedure… and half of the hospital apparently came in & out of the observation room to see. There were so many who wanted to, they took turns. I was really well known for the next 5 days that I was there.
I keep vacillating on sharing more details here. This is already long enough to be a short-story and yet too short to even begin to encompass what I and my family went through over the course of my time in that hospital following my daughter’s birth… But there’s a title above that says “how I learned to stand up for myself and to say no, too” and so far, all you’ve heard are horrific details about my daughter’s birth and my near-death.
So let me skip the minute gory details and get to the end of the story.
Those doctors and physicians assistants and personnel at my OB’s office? They didn’t listen to me. As a result, I almost died and I suffered irreparable damage to my reproductive system that required a tubal ligation. Since getting pregnant again would be a death sentence for both me and the baby.
Death is always a risk in childbirth – even in 1st world countries. But if even ONE person at my OB’s office had listened to my concerns? I would’ve been scheduled for a c-section, given late-term ultrasounds to see if the placenta was an issue, and treated as the high-risk patient I was.
Why didn’t they listen?
Because I didn’t demand it. I should’ve walked out of that practice the first time someone dismissed my concerns and found doctors who would listen. I should’ve stood up for myself repeatedly and didn’t. I should’ve been my own best advocate and if not listened to refused to put up with it until heard. Instead, I nearly lost my life because I entrusted it to people who weren’t paying attention.
I didn’t file a malpractice suit because I talked to the top malpractice attorney in the state and he said “Look, let’s be frank here… you could file a suit. There were so many instances of malpractice here that it’s amazing. Clear cut. Undeniable. Even in writing. But… you’ll waste your time and you’ll lose. Because you are alive, you have a beautiful, healthy baby girl, and you are 37 years old. I’m not going to smoke-screen you… no jury will award you damages because the defensive attorneys will argue that they saved your life, you have a child already, and your eggs are old.”
It was an awful thing to hear. Your eggs are old. Your uterine lining is ratty. They messed up, nearly killed you, and there’s nothing you can do about it.
But it was the truth and I knew it when I heard it. He could’ve filed a suit, charged me tons of money, and had the same result – but he was far more helpful… he was truthful.
So here’s another truth: that OB did save my life. I’m here. Every day I get to spend with my daughter is a blessing. A gift that I almost didn’t get. Six years tomorrow of days I almost didn’t have with her or my husband.
And the hardest truth? If I had believed in myself enough, had believed in my right to say “No, stop. Now listen… I have valid concerns and you are dismissing them without even thinking about it. Stop and listen or I’ll go find someone who will” she wouldn’t have had to save my life. I wouldn’t have had to see her covered from the neck down in my own blood. I wouldn’t have had to see my husband holding up my daughter ‘just in case it was the only time I ever saw her.’
Because as much as those doctors failed me – I failed me.
So for 6 years now, I’ve said what I need to say, done what I need to do, and had absolutely no fear of saying “no” because I never want to go through anything like that again.
Sometimes, I have to remind myself. Because old habits die hard. But that’s why I wrote this post. Because maybe it will help me remember. And maybe it will help you too.
Tomorrow I’m celebrating my daughter’s sixth birthday… But I’m also celebrating the beginning of the point where I became the best advocate for me that I can be. How about you? What’s it going to take for you? I hope it’s not as extreme as what it took for me.
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30 Responses to “How I Learned to Stand Up for Myself and to Say No, Too.”
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Wow. Thank you for being open and sharing the life experience that led you to being your own best (and I bet your daughter’s too) advocate. You’ve learned how to stand up for yourself and now the kidlet you are raising (so to speak) will be taught this valuable trait from an early age. You not taking on the ‘victim’ coat and telling how this experience spurred you to make changes you now value in yourself is a wonderful example for your daughter and women everywhere. Thank you…
Wow. You even though this story is difficult, it’s inspiring to see you stand up now.
I had an experience with my first daughter that was dramatic as well. Only it was her life that was threatened. I felt so pushed around as a new mother….it was terrible. To many people involved in what they “thought” we should do…the nurses mainly.
Baby number two? We went to the other extreme and had a homebirth…and i got the opportunity to stick up for what I knew needed to happen with my babe. The second time around it was so much better.
So you are right! Thank you for sharing this.
Wow! I knew some of your story, but not all of it!
You are so incredibly brave and I so respect you for that. It takes bravery to stand up for oneself and to advocate for yourself when most medical practitioners prefer to think they know what’s best for you!
Such a powerful story and thanks so much for sharing with us!
And happy belated birthday to your kidlet
xoxo
Thanks for your extensive post here. Amazing story about the truth of following your *gut* esp. re: medical procedures. Five years of infertility treatment (adopted son… yeah!) and a sister with cancer taught me this lesson. Also, you had wise legal counsel re: suit. I have taken my experiences & have helped numerous friends & neighbors. Glad to see you doing same on your blog. Peace to your day!
Wow. Thank you for sharing your story. .
I didn’t have the same extent of problems, but I had the same basic situation. 5 doctor practice and when my induction was scheduled they didn’t set it for my primary doctor. .
The doctor I had been scheduled with I had only seen once and she couldn’t even remember my name throughout the whole thing!? I was called it, her, and names that were nowhere close to mine. It was frustrating, but whatever. When I finally got her to stay still long enough to explain all my health problems/medical problems/concerns – she just blinked and said we know what we’re doing. We have our plan.
Which is why I went through a dozen preventable painful things and 36 hours of insane pain before my doctor came on call and took care of me.
That I dealt with. I was upset but I survived.
About 6 hrs after my son was born, I told the nurse that something wasn’t right and that he was breathing weird. They brushed me off as ‘oh, it’s your first time as a mother’ Blah blah. I had to flip out for the nurses to even call the doctor and check my son. Yeah, he was really sick and ended up having a spinal tap, thrown on an IV, pumped full of meds all within the next hour.
Grr. 4 years later (2 weeks ago) and it still frustrates me.
I’m sorry about writing a novel. . But thank you for sharing your story. If I have another child, I’ll be sure to stand up for my wishes and make sure to explain what things they /have/ to pay attention to.
Thank you so much for sharing your story. I have always been one that doesn’t like confrontation as well and I have been really lucky so far that something similar has not happened to me. So thank you again, your story will stay with me.
I’m really sorry that you had to go through all of that. I have a friend who nearly lost her uterus to placenta percreta, so I understand how serious (and scary) it can be.
I’m glad, though, that you came through it having learned such a powerful lesson. I have learned the same lesson since the birth of my own daughter – a birth that was not traumatic at all, but chock-full of interventions because I didn’t know any better and just followed along blindly. Hopefully, stories like yours will help inspire them to be more proactive in their care.
Er, I think I accidentally deleted a sentence in that second paragraph.. oops! I meant to say before the last sentence that there are a lot of women who do the same thing.
Thank you for sharing your story with us. It is such an important lesson – we have got to me more involved in our health care. Just because the person standing in front of us has a medical degree, does not make them superior to us. As the commercials says, they aren’t mind readers – we must make them listen. Thanks again for sharing.
WOW – thank you so much for sharing your story…. WOW. I just can’t stop saying WOW….. I’m sorry you had to go through such an incredible ordeal. I know many people will learn a valuable lesson from this post – you must be your own advocate. Believe in yourself!
I’m glad you’re here – and can share your story, and your wit and wisdom on twitter too. All the best for great health and happiness to you.
This story has stuck with me since the first time I heard you tell it. So glad you decided to share it with the world. It is an important lesson for us all. Self-advocacy is so very necessary, in the life-threatening situations and the daily moments. Thank you.
OMG, This was difficult to read and digest. Thank God you came out of this horrible experience. I can’t image how terrible you felt and all the emotions you went through…and your husband I have learned to be persistent and put a demand on the medical personnel over the years. I have my share of stories and when I read others such as yours, it reminds me always to be my own advocate. Listen to that inner voice. We women do know our bodies. Our Gut is our 2nd brain…and we need to learn to follow that GUT feeling when things are not right. Thank you for sharing.
Your story moved me to tears. I can’t tell you how happy I am to see that there was a happy ending to something that would have been atrocious.
Even people who are good at standing up for themselves have a tendency to back down when doctors poopoo their concerns. They’re doctors they think, they should know…
The first thing I always tell my new mom friends is that they should ALWAYS second guess something a pediatrician says that doesn’t feel right. They’re doctors, but they’re human, overworked, and sometimes too cocky in their talent. I guess that now I’ll change my shpiel and start counseling my friends to speak up as soon as they get pregnant!
Your story should be turned into a case study for student OBs. I bet you that doctor never ignored another patient’s concerns again.
Thank you for sharing this story with us.
Thank you for your transparency. What a nightmare.
Thank you all – I always hate it when people ask me about my daughter’s birth story, because I know they’re expecting a normal one, and this isn’t something you should read or hear without being ready for it.
But sometimes, I guess it takes a little bit of honesty and reality to remind us all that we can’t be passive participants in our own lives.
Thanks for helping me to feel good about sharing it.
Good for you for standing up for yourself! Better late than not at all. More women need to speak up, not just aroudn birth, but all areas of women’s health.
My first two births could have been handled better, but I thought it was normal – until i had my 4th. HUGE difference.
Even afterwards, when i was eventually diagnosed with stage 0 (ZERO) cervical cancer, I wound up with a hysterectomy because I was, like you said – 36, had kids, uterus not being used and was in rough shape anyway …
The alternative treatment was to keep cutting away until none of my cervix was left, or just removing it and sewing the uterus back on. I opted for the hysto, but why do we have to make such choices?
Most of the male doctors seem to just shrug and say that’s how it is.
Wow, that was powerful. I am not surprised, unfortunately, as I had a similar situation in which the doctors wouldn’t listen to me. Thankfully my life wasn’t on the line, but still, I am not trusting of doctors,and learned from my experience to speak up more myself, as well.
Thank goodness it all turned out ok. Happy birthday to your little girl, and many more!
Thank you for sharing!
What a post Lucretia……not sure what to say except that the message you are sending is inspiring. So many people don’t stand up for themselves, me included. If this doesn’t help them understand why they should stand up for themselves, not sure what can.
Thanks for sharing……
Lucretia, thank you for sharing your story. I had a somewhat similar experience during the pregnancy of my 4th child 25 yrs ago.
My doctor, who was ‘old-school’, didn’t believe in all the “fancy schmancy” technology, so he never ordered an ultrasound. Even after my telling him that there was ’something different about this pregnancy’, he insisted that everything was fine and that we would just “let God and nature do their job”.
In my 7th month and 12 hours AFTER my water had broken without experiencing any labor pains, he finally decided that they needed to administer inducement and showed up at the hospital.
Imagine all of our surprise when it was discovered that my son was in the breach position, especially since I had been checked several times by a OB/GYN nurse who apparently couldn’t tell a baby’s head from its butt without an ultrasound.
Needless to say an immediate c-section was performed, during which I “died” and had to be revived. And for reasons that no one can explain, that was when I developed tinnitus which I still experience,25 yrs. later.
I was told that my son, who was hospitalized in the neo-natal unit for a week because of his low birth rate and liver problems, would probably never be like “normal” children his age. However; I’m eternally grateful to God, that except for being a few inches shorter than most his age, is as “normal” as any other 25 yr. old man.
Sharon McPherson
@SharonMcP
This is such important info that everyone needs to know – to be your own health care advocate. Thanks for sharing your story and keep promoting it. You’ll help save others.
Also, it’s great that you put the disclaimer at the beginning about if your pregnant not to read it now. My sister-in-law decided that the best time to tell me her delivery horror story of a torn umbilical cord and blood splatting everywhere was while I was in labor with my first child. That is not the time to share that! I was petrified then.
Wow. What you went through.
I’m glad that you have your beautiful girl, and yet sorry you had such a terrible time of it.
Powerful story.
Lucretia,
Thank you for sharing your most personal of stories. I pray this opens someone’s heart and mind enough to help them stand up for themselves, or speaks to people in the profession of listening to people and helps them do their job a little better. You are a truly gifted writer and an awesome person…I’m glad I’ve gotten to “meet” you over the past bit. Take care and thank you again for sharing this with us.
Thank you for posting your story. I am currently pregnant with #2 and glad I read it. Last week I was unhappy with the treatment from my OB’s office and switched. After reading this I will be even stronger with my opinions. We really do know our history/body better than any doctors out there.
Thanks again!!
wow…an amazing story
Thanks for sharing…
Isn’t it incredible when you look back on life experiences through the years…and how much we’ve learned from them… Hugs!
Oh. My. God. I’m sitting here just in shock. Although I have to say, it’s not all that surprising these days. You are an amazing woman, and seeing this story, just makes me think you are even more so. I am lucky that I’ve always been pretty assertive when it came to my health or the girls’ health.
Your story will definitely be an inspiration!!! I’m so glad everything turned out the way it did in the end… I’m very blessed to have you as a friend
Believe me when I say I understand exactly what you mean. My mom had very similar problems as you describe here, and I’ve heard all my life how she should have and almost did die during all 4 of her births. Mine was the last, worst and when she finally did have a hysterectomy. But that was in the late 50’s – early 70’s that she had her problems.
I learned my lesson in similar, all beit no where NEAR as scary or dangerous circumstances. My family has the same problems with not having productive labor. However my ex-husband kept telling my doctors that I was a hypochondriac and hysterical and not to listen to me about my “labor pains”. Nice huh? Any idea why I divorced him?
Does make you totally appreciate the old saying “That which does not kill you makes you stronger”.
I catching up with my blog reading – So I am late in the game.
I think we all have a story to tell but this is going way beyond the usual clutter in the blogosphere.
I also feel that you learned your lesson from this story. I don’t exactly see you as a push over;-)
I am glad you are alive and well and can share that story with us.
Thank you!
PS:
I hope all prenant women obeyed your warning at the beginning of your post.
This is one of the most honest and touching stories I’ve read in quite a long time. As a woman, I find it important to be reminded of all the ways I need to advocate for myself. Thank you for serving as this reminder.
I was looking for something…inspiration I suppose…something to empower me. I looked up “stand up for myself” and found your post. I found myself in a situation only yesterday where I failed me too. Your post is courageous and beautiful and is precisely what I needed. It’s gonna be my new birthday – the day I value me, Thank you for sharing.
Thank You. Thank you for giving me a way to feel empowered agian. My son will be a year on April 3rd and I was not looking foward to it. I felt his birthday is a reminder of poor care and almost dying because of someones mistake. After reading your post I see there is another way to mark and remember his birth. “The day I started to stick up for myself”.
I have a similiar story. I was misdiagnosed by both my regular OBGYN and a high risk doctor resulting in a ton of blood loss and an emergencey hyst.. At the time after my near death both doctors were blamming each other for a missed percreta. Not only do I desire more children, I have 4 frozen embryos waiting to be born. This is TERRIBLE DELEMA.
I had all the prerequisits and warning signs for this condition and no one listened to me!
Warmest Regards