Having Babies in a Foreign Land: A Birth Story

Part 1

Of course you can’t predict or plan how exactly your labor and delivery experience will be.  Well, I take that back.  You can plan all you want, but you can’t expect those plans to work out.  In our case with Lil’ Man Coen, our birth story was everything we didn’t plan for and a whole lot more :)  

Chile has one of the highest C-section rates in the world.  I was thankful to find a doctor that was “pro-parto” (all for natural deliveries) and respected my strong desire to avoid a caesarean at all costs, unless medically necessary of course (duh).  The conversation we failed to have before my 40^th week of pregnancy, however, was the time frame that was acceptable for waiting.  Apparently in Chile, delivery is expected between 38-40 weeks.  But for this Gringa, (and a lot of other people and countries outside of Chile) I didn’t want to take any actions before Lil’ Man did until 42 weeks.  Whiiiiich can lead to some cultural tension, for SURE.

So we went in for a check-up at 40 weeks, 3 days.  No signs of labor any time soon.  Lil’ Man was quite comfortable it seemed, as we were with waiting.  But my doctor was concerned with the risks that come with waiting too long (loss of amniotic fluid, decrease in quality of the placenta, etc.) and wanted to try an induction. 

We should have stopped there, but we didn’t.

We decided to try it, and if it didn’t motivate Lil’ Man to start moving on down, we would stop and wait some more on our own.  We asked the doctor and midwife (and even the hospital admission lady who checked us in) various times to make sure that was ok, that we could stop the induction at any point.  They all said, of course.  

So Wednesday morning, at 40 weeks, 5 days, we get to the hospital to try the induction.  I thought it would be more like a doctor’s office visit, and was convinced it would most likely end with us going back home to wait and walk some more.  But when we got there, we checked in like we were staying for a few days.  They took all our information, took us to our room, explained visiting hours and how to work the TV.  I changed into my hospital paperish gown that was clearly not made for tall Gringas.  We waited in our room until a man with a wheelchair came to escort us down to the “’pre-delivery room.”  We took Lil’ Man’s first change of clothes in a little bag, even though I knew deep down we wouldn’t be meeting him that day.

We went down to the pre-delivery room.  It’s basically a large room with about 10 beds separated by curtains.  This is where you go from the time you’re admitted into the hospital in active labor until you are ready to deliver, when they take you to a separate room.  Then after delivery you go to your room, a typical hospital room, where you stay for the few days after.  It’s definitely not the nice private room with pretty wallpaper where you get to stay throughout you’re entire labor process and after, but you gotta work with what you got I guess.

Our midwife met us there and as she was hooking me up to the fetal monitor explained that we would try the induction for 2-3 hours and then do a C-section if my labor wasn’t progressing.  Again, should have gone with my gut feeling that day and stopped right there.  2-3 hours?  That seemed a little crazy.  And a C-section at 40weeks and 4days?  I don’t think so.

So as she’s literally telling me that I have no other options, and I’m trying to (nicely) explain that yes, there is another option called waiting longer, we both realize there has been a lack of communication somewhere.  And not even with the Spanish – When we asked about stopping the induction, we meant to go home and wait longer.  They meant to stop and just do a C-section.  I told her I needed to talk to Tracey “al tiro” - right now.  (For some odd reason they kept asking Tracey to leave…)  When she said “let me just start the IV with pitocin and then I’ll get Tracey to come in,” I used my best crazy-hormonal-pregnant-lady mean face to tell her that I didn’t know if we’d be staying and I needed to talk to him before we did anything at all. 

So as Tracey and I sat there in our not-so-private curtained bed area, we honestly had no idea what to do.  They told us if we left the hospital that day that we’d have to find a new doctor and a new hospital.  We knew what we wanted (not to rush into a C-section) but when you have multiple doctors telling you it’s a risk to wait any longer, you start to doubt yourself.  Not to mention the fact that I didn’t know how or if we could find a doctor in this scalpal-happy country willing to wait another week with us.

Somehow we were able to make the right decision in the midst of so much chaos, confusion, and pressure.  After another doctor came and explained the risks to us (again), we signed papers releasing the hospital from any liability, got wheeled back up to our room, packed our bags, and retraced our steps from that morning.

Still pregnant.