A mexican birth part 3

Maybe it was the second birth that was easier or maybe it was since the baby was born in the afternoon (as opposed to midnight with Little S) but I felt good after the birth. My only issue was that I was lying in the bed with nothing on. After any birth as you may or may not know there is a deluge of fluids ahem, and even if I felt like getting up I couldn't because for some reason no one wanted to bring me the products necessary to get up and walk around in spite of my asking over and over for them. I found out that I wasn't allowed to get up anyway until I could prove I could pee and the nurse repeatedly brought me a bedpan to try. The whole bedpan thing just really angered me because I couldn't use it. I felt like an invalid and a prisoner. And I had only seen my baby for about three minutes after she was born which served to make me even angrier. I had no idea where she was and no one seemed interested in bringing her to me or telling me when I could see her. Seb assured me that she was sleeping fine in the nursery and I said "then just bring her here" but he said we'd have to wait for her to see the doctor.

My Ob came by a few hours later and congratulated me. In spite of our difference s I genuinely liked him. Well, I thought I did until he announced "Your baby is beautiful. And wow she's eating like a champion every two hours." I sat straight up in bed, "what did you just say!?" I couldn't believe what he was telling me. "She's a breastfed baby. She isn't supposed to have formula! I TOLD you that over and over!" He shrugged with the devil may care nature of someone who didn't understand what breastfeeding those first few days means. "Well, since you have no milk yet we really needed to feed her now." I was livid. He didn't even ask me. I reminded him that we'd actually signed papers to keep her in our room so that she could be breastfed. He said that the hospital director had changed his mind for liability reasons. Then he quickly wrapped up his report and left promising me he'd send in the pediatrician to explain to me why she needed formula because that wasn't actually his specialty and he was just here to check on my physical condition.

When the pediatrician arrived she tried to justify the feedings by saying that the baby was borderline diabetic and risked going in to shock if not fed but I felt she was covering something because I'd been told that they'd done a test just after the birth and I had remembered her saying the baby was fine. When I told her this she grumbled something like "well you can never be too sure." Then she told me rather sarcastically that maybe I should go feed her myself which is when I launched in to my "this hospital is anti-breastfeeding" speech. Seb was livid with me for getting angry. What was even worse was this made the pediatrician go on a tirade about how she had studied in the US and was just as qualified as any US doctor, which made me say "I don't know about having babies in the USA --only France" which was true. Anyway I hadn't questioned her medical skills just her knowledge of breastfeeding. She definitely felt defensive about me considering her qualified. I decided not to get into my colostrum speech or my "babies don't need to eat for the first 24 hours" speech and just leave it at that. She was oblivious to any speeches and stormed out with a curt announcement that she'd be back tomorrow. Seb chased after her and I heard him say "my wife is just being overprotective of her baby..." which made me really feel like I was all alone. He was supposed to be on my side but instead I think he felt embarrassed by my rants.

By then though I was really angry and I called the nurse to help me get to the bathroom so I could use a real toilet and get out of bed. She still didn't understand that I might need a pad of some kind and I couldn't make her understand this so I just stood up and well, left a trail as I walked to the bathroom. I was finally able to pee by standing in the shower under warm water. For some reason I couldn't do it sitting down. I'm not normally one who pees in the shower but I highly recommend it for an after the birth pee because the warm water is very soothing.

When I got back to the bed I asked for some more cotton and the nurse helped me make a pad which I found very strange and then she asked me where my underwear were. I thought this was odd too. In most of my ivf's and my birth with Little S they'd give you these bandy surgical underwear to wear afterwards. Anyway it was funny trying to stuff this huge roll of cotton in my spandex underwear but I did and then I was ready to see the baby. It was nearly nine o'clock. Where did all the time go?

In the nursery there was this little checkpoint charlie which is funny because we were the only people with a baby in the hospital. It makes you realise what a privileged few get to have their babies in a private hospital in Mexico because in France my hospital had at least 15 babies at a time in the maternity ward and the town is not as large as this one. Anyway the checkpoint has this guard who sits there all day in front of the nursery at a desk with a gun, and a radio. He took our names (duh) and wrote the time in a book. Then we went to a room where we had to put on surgical gowns and wash our hands while a nurse watched us. It was really starting to feel like a prison. I told Seb we'd be checking out the next morning.

We were given our baby and directed to a salon with a tv and benches--the feeding room. I held her close to me and studied her face for the first time since that afternoon. She didn't want to eat of course and her tongue was coated in a white, chalky film from all the formula so I knew why. Finally she sucked a moment but her tongue was in the wrong place, something I remembered with Little S when the French pediatrician had asked me to bottle feed him for a few feedings. She would have to learn to suck. The nurse asked if I'd be getting up for feedings and I said a reluctant "no" because I knew I'd be exhausted and she wouldn't feed and it would all be a giant mess. I asked the nurse if I could give her the morning bath and she said "yes but be here promptly at 7:15am" which seemed strict to me considering there were no other babies in the entire maternity ward.

That night I didn't sleep at all. The nurse station was active with conversation and laughter, a tv blared and the security guard's radio kept blasting communication all night long. I got up briefly and peeked down the hall. The nursery was lit up with fluorescent lights and I wondered how my poor girl was sleeping with all the chaos. Why she couldn't be in my room cuddled next to me was beyond me.

The next day we sat by while the nurse bathed her, cooing and brushing her hair. She slathered her entire body with cream and powdered her while I stood there cringing because we never used products on Little S, just natural oils, diluted baby soaps and water. They took over though. We could not bathe or care for our own baby. It was ridiculous. As we stood there I happened to glance down at the nurses report which said nine bottles. I couldn't believe they'd fed her so much after my huge tirade. Nobody listened. They just agreed to comply and then did what they wanted. I also noticed that she'd gained weight in less than 24 hours. She was 30 grams heavier at a period of time when babies were supposed to lose weight. I had to get my baby home where it was sane.

After the bath we finally kidnapped her and took her to the hospital room in her rolling bassinet under the eagle eye of the head nurse--this woman who could have easily shot darts out of her eyes if she'd been armed with them. Whenever Charlotte cried in our room she was right there to see if we were being good parents. I have never wanted to kick someone in the shins so much in my life. She even came in to supervise my first diaper change. Finally Seb said in broken Spanish, "we do know what were doing you know" She grunted and stood by just in case. In fact we had a parade of nurses in and out of our room. I was really fed up.

Charlotte took some time to learn to latch on but she eventually did and took to the breast like she'd always been there. I was lucky to have another sucky baby. I was pleased when the pediatrician came back that she was feeding well and I could prove to her that mother's milk was not some kind of witchery. "You have no milk so you have to be careful" she told me. I ignored her and smiled, "yes I know" It may be necessary to give her formula for a few days. "Yes I know" I said smiling. It was my new tactic. I knew that the anger wasn't good for the baby or me or my milk production. I knew that there was no changing the Mexican hospital where you pay big money to have a baby that someone else feeds. I supposed that when you went home someone else fed the baby for you, maybe the maid. I wasn't sure how it worked.

I checked out less than 24 hours after having my baby. When we finally left our spaciously decorated hospital suite we were offered a pair of slippers, earrings, pillows, and even the pillows from the baby crib and my bed. When I asked for an extra Tylenol (I was doubled over with cramps) the nurse said no since we were already checked out. I was baffled at how generous the hospital was with creature comforts--tv, dvd, terrace views from each room, but how stingy they were with information, hospital supplies, and opportunities for mother/child bonding.

I'm sorry to say if I were pregnant again I wouldn't have another baby in a Mexican hospital. I really hope attitudes towards natural childbirth and breastfeeding changes here but I'm not sure it will. Is it possible to explain to the doctors and hospitals why these "archaic" methods embraced by much of Europe, the US and Canada like breastfeeding, home births, drug free deliveries and rooming-in are now considered far better than the previous decade's "modern" methods? "Why go backwards?" my doctor's attitude seemed to suggest. Maybe it has to do with the idea that the privileged sector doesn't want to do what most of Mexico's poor already do. After all why would anyone want that when you can pay to have this? Birthing here seems to be more about creating a clear dividing line between "us and them" than about creating a loving safe environment for mother and child.

I certainly hope this doesn't offend anyone who doesn't agree but I think it's bound to stir up controversy. It is my experience and that's all. I had a lot of questions after the birth. "Could this have gone better?" "How?" It was such a frustrating experience that I didn't have the postnatal birth experience I wanted. It may be possible to do this somewhere in Mexico but I have yet to hear of it. Does alternative birthing exist here? If so then where?

(Ed. --In the comments Mishap tells the story of her positive birth experiences in Mexico and I am pleasantly surprised that someone could have such a good series of birth experiences. It is interesting that she had her children in public hospitals and yet seemed to have more control of her birth experience. I had my daughter in a private hospital paid for with expensive expat insurance and yet had very little say in what happened to me. Please read her version of the Mexican birth story for an alternate viewpoint of someone who has lived most of her life in Mexico.)