Ultimate delivery room would be a surgical suite. Bright overhead lights. Room would be kept cold. Tile floor and walls. I would lay on a flat metal table that only had enough space for my head and torso. Table would not have option to angle the patient into an upright position that is more conducive for pushing. My bottom would hang off the end. Metal stirrups would be at a wider than normal angle, stretching my legs uncomfortably far apart and giving the doctor opportunity to move in closer to my naked body.
When positioned on the table, they would make sure my legs are placed in stirrups and body is positioned just right so my wide open vagina and bottom lined up with a spot that had a round steel rimmed, empty opening. Later I would discover that a steel basin can be dropped into the rimmed area, collecting bodily fluids I had no control over, coming my birth canal and rectum. There are a couple of hooks on the underside of the metal table, allowing them to insert a catheter into my bladder and have an out of the way, but easy to access place for the collection bag.
A fetal heart and contraction monitor would be on my right. An iv pole would be attached to the table near the right side. A rolling stool would be positioned near my head on the right side and another between my wide open legs.
Table would be raised to height that is most conducive for doctor. My doctor, two male nurses assisting the doctor, and a male intern would be assigned as my birthing partner/coach for the entire labor and delivery.
Staff would be in scrubs, but no surgical masks or surgical coverings needed until right before baby’s head is delivered. I would be in the room for labor and delivery. I would be allowed to use birthing ball, lean over table, squat, etc. next to delivery table during the laboring phase. Pee pads would be on the birthing ball and I would stand on them if squatting or leaning against delivery table. There would always be a few basins and pee pads on a rolling cart, within a arms reach of my doctor and birthing partner. Doctor and birthing partner would do their best to catch unpredictable liquids leaking from my vagina and bottom when I was leaning over the metal table or squatting.
Once pushing phase commences, I will be restricted to laying on birthing table and feet would be strapped down to metal stirrups. The overhead viewing area would be behind the doctor. I won’t be able to get into a more upright position that is most conducive for pushing.
My head lifts off the table and I make feeble attempts to curl around the baby during each contraction. My eyes are now looking straight into the observation area behind the doctor. Strangers are casually standing or sitting, watching as contractions rip through my body. I don’t want to push…my lady parts feel like they are being ripped apart as I push with each contraction. Along comes a contraction and my body involuntarily pushes, betraying me.
People in the gallery seem to be in awe and maybe even excited to see a baby’s head bulging in my vagina. Doctor has gotten into his sterile delivery gear. His gloved fingers are in constant contact with my crotch. He is encouraging me, but in between discussing with the strangers how moving his fingers around my vagina, helping stretch the opening, prevents tearing and guides the head out.
Every second, I am sure the pain can’t get any worse, then it does. Finally the baby’s legs and feet slide out of me and the pain instantly lessens. My baby is placed in my chest. A blanket is placed over it, my birthing partner and nurses rubbing the fluids off the baby. My birthing partner keeps the blanket and baby from covering my breasts, ensuring that my private parts remain exposed for all to see. Once the cord is clamped and cut, my birthing partner begins touching my breasts. He moves the baby in a certain position, keeps using his fingers to position my nipple and helps the baby latch on. His hand stays behind the baby’s head, and his hand continues to massage my breast, ensuring colostrum flows into my baby’s mouth.
The doctor stays between my legs. His entire hand and forearm is inside and my vagina. His other hand is pressing down on my abdomen, stirring up cramps. He tells me to bear down and helps guide the placenta into the steel bowl between my legs. His hand keeps going inside me…my legs try to close up, but he is relentless, making sure the entire placenta was released.
My birthing partner moves my baby to my other breast. I look up and see an audience of strangers seeming to soak up the view of a woman who is spread wide open, doctor’s hand inside her crotch and an intern’s hand doing things that one could mistake as fondling my painfully sensitive breast, as he positions my baby to suckle on the other side.
Once baby is fed, it is taken to the scale and warming bed near by. Birthing partner rubs cream into both my nipples and closely examines each nipple. He then spends time massaging each breast, trying to encourage my milk ducts to ready more colostrum and also releases hormones that help my uterus contract.
Doctor stays between my legs, sporadically sticking in a few fingers and massaging my pelvis. Large clots of blood fall out of me into the steel basin. It seems like this phase lasts forever. Once the doctor determines my uterus contraction pattern is consistent, I’m told that I’ll be moving down the hall to a standard hospital room.
My baby remains warm and comfortable in the warming bed. The nurses and my birthing partner help me stand up, placing a thick pad between my legs. A nurse holds my catheter bag and IV, as I try to keep this diaper like pad between my legs and waddle my sore, naked body down the hall. The other nurse follows behind, pushing my baby in the warming bed.
Upon reaching the room, thick pee pads are laid out on the bed, to soak up the blood leaking out of me. I’m laid flat, my knees are raised and my birthing partner drops my knees apart. My birthing partner tells me he is the one now in charge of performing frequent vaginal checks. Several staff members are moving about the room, getting my baby settled and arranging things. Modesty isn’t a consideration, as my crotch is on full display for all and his fingers enter my uterus. His other hand rests on my pelvis, keeping me firmly in place. He completes his vaginal check, gives a status update, which I notice another staff member entering into a computer. He carefully removes the bloody gloves, throws them away and washes his hands.
He spends more time examining my breasts and nipples, declares they are ready to feed the baby again. Nurse types more information and baby is brought to me. As I make an attempt to take my baby and helped them latch, he pushes my hands away. Along with monitoring my bleeding and uterus health, he is responsible for assuring my baby is receiving proper breast nourishment, along with ensuring my breasts are properly cared for.
The next 48 hours, the intern/birthing partner stays in the room with me. I am given some a warm, soft blanket and pillows. Thick diaper like pad is placed between my legs, soaking up blood. Frequently my baby is brought over and he begins the process of examining my breasts, massaging them, taking gentle hold of my nipple and ensuring my baby latches on.
He then puts on gloves, positions my legs for a pelvic exam and sits on the end of the bed. One hand massages my tummy and the other begins moving around inside my uterus. He has me bear down like I’m having a bowel movement. Small cramps hit and I can feel large clots of blood escape my vagina. I hold my baby in the feeding position, while I find my face cringing from the physical discomfort and the horrible feeling of the blood clots. He keeps a calm voice, encouraging me, trying to make it feel like it’s no big deal.
The most horrifying moments are when my doctor nonchalantly strolls into the room while I’m in this humiliating position. He holds one of my knees back, giving himself a better view as his intern’s fingers are inside my crotch, watching my body as my pelvic muscles contract and blood flows out of me. He chimes in to tell me how great I’m doing.
He will help move the baby to my other breast, massaging it, positioning my nipple just so, and helping the baby latch. He keeps looking down between my legs, watching his intern fingers move around inside my vagina. At some point, they decide the intern is done, clean up the mess, and place a pad between my legs. Once the baby is done nursing, they do a thorough breast exam, massage my breasts, apply ointment to my very raw, sensitive nipples, and then cover me back up.
I don’t know how I can possibly still be bleeding…but yet they reassure me it’s normal amount and will go on for quite some time. The uterine massage while breastfeeding helps end the bleeding faster.
After two days of round the clock monitoring, I spend the next 24 hours being shown how to help my baby latch, along with many options for positioning my baby. They show me how to massage my breasts to encourage milk production and how to properly apply the ointment to my nipples. The intern/birthing coach stays in the room and watches assists. They no longer do pelvic exams, just change the pad and pads underneath me.
By day 4 post birth, they provide these mesh diaper like pads, remove the catheter, and IV. I’m not allowed any sort of gown or covering, but I’m walking the halls. I pass other moms in different stages. Some naked, in agony, large belly protruding, waddling, catheter dangling between their legs, and headed to the birthing surgical rooms. My body winces just thinking about what they are about to endure. Some are naked, pad between their legs, not walking too fast as they are tethered to a catheter tube and iv that someone else has control of, with baby close behind, looking exhausted and waddling to their post-partum room. I wince yet again thinking about the realization hits when they figure out the embarrassment, lack of modesty, and some level of discomfort is far from over. A few of us, in our depends like mesh pads are breathing a sigh of relief as we will be heading home in a day or so.
As I walk by surgical birthing rooms, hearing woman moaning, begging and willing to agree to just about anything to stop the agony, at times screaming, I’m finding myself wishing I could be in the observation areas, watching these woman endure childbirth. Watching as they wince with embarrassment as the castor oil and uterine contractions cause bodily fluids to uncontrollably leak from their vagina and rectum. Doctors and birth partners occasionally reaching between their legs, offering nonverbal reassurances and rubbing that tiny bundle of nerves. All of a sudden they have moans of pleasure, squat deepens, and hips reflexly move around, seeking more pressure and pleasure. Their doctor and birth partner getting a slight smirk on their face as they enjoy watching the naked laboring mom nearly orgasm. The most epic moment…watching a woman come undone in agony, as the baby’s head is bulging out of her vagina. A bit of a sadistic smile as you know the laboring woman is thinking the pain can’t get any worse…but you know it’s about to get much worse.
You find yourself surprised by a horny feeling. And wondering how you feel sexually aroused and excited about conceiving another baby…bringing you right back to that birthing room.