Last night, I had the most incredibly vivid dream. In my dream, I went to the hospital in labor, along with bringing Cody and Jason. I remembered going in, getting triag'd, put into a bed in a labor 'ward' in a room with like 8 beds (4 on each side, each with women, although they were all quiet). Then my dream skipped ahead and I had just had the baby, and I looked over and the nurse was putting pitocin into my IV to "promote release of the placenta". I yelled at her and said "don't you know I'm a VBAC?? I didn't consent to that, that is too DANGEROUS for me!" She just continued, and I turned and asked, "where is the baby, I want to see the baby". A few hours have passed since this dream started to fade, so some of the sequence is fuzzy. I remember seeing the baby, and she was beautiful. Absolutely adorable and perfect. And then I realize that I don't remember the birth AT ALL. I start to cry, feeling as though all of my fighting has been in vain. I get out of bed and stand up and say "where is my husband???" and then "I am going home". The nurse tells me that the doctor is going to want to keep the baby for atleast 3 days. I feel so strong, and I don't feel like I'd just had a baby at all. I feel more as though I've just been through some very rough sex, than the feeling of pain that I relate to childbirth. I think...no way. I feel great, Brianna is beautiful, we're going home. I march up to the front desk, and they have it set up in such a way as though it looks like they could physically keep me from walking out. They don't though. They argue with me, and I tell them that I know my rights and I demand my baby. I take Brianna back to my bed and I get dressed. The girl in the bed next to me says "what are you DOING??" and gives me a disgusted look when I tell her I'm going home, where I can really relax and recover. Jason comes in with Cody saying he'd just had to get Cody something from the cafeteria, and totally supportive, we walk out together.
Through all of this I'm crying about another lost birth experience, and have a bittersweet joy in response to the beautiful baby who's first breaths I have somehow missed. I didn't understand how I could not remember... was it something they drugged me with? I felt proud of how I'd fought with the doctors in order to leave, but couldn't remember why I even went to the hospital in the first place. I looked over my records (which they gave me when I discharged) and it said that I came in at 8cm. Jason didn't know why we went in either, or atleast he wasn't saying anything.
I woke from this dream at 4:30am and could not go back to sleep for the life of me. I wonder what this means. Perhaps my fears are still wrapped around the medical community and not the birth itself.
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