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Home Nurse No Go

December 7, 2011

Two weeks ago I finally had my first home nurse appointment.  FINALLY I wasn’t going to have to drive 45 minutes each way to get jabbed in the rear.  My nurse arrived a little early, which was fine.  She had warned me the appointment would take about an hour so getting it over soon…rather than later…was appreciated.  There were questions, LOADS of questions.  Somewhere in that interview I started to feel off.  Something was telling me this wasn’t right.  She was judging me, I could feel it.

When asked when my last doctor visit was, I reminded her that I used midwives and was she asking about my general doc.  NO, in fact, she wanted to know what real DR. was handling my premature labor risk.  Who was doing my ultrasounds?  Well, SORRY, the techs at the Perinatal Institute were scanning me every other week.  Apparently that counted for more than my regular midwife appointments (who were taking all the same measures an OB/GYN would be).  We finished up the lengthy forms and I signed my life away.  We made pleasant conversation and she remarked at how well-behaved and “beautiful” Alexa was.  [Side-note, Alexa loves all things medical and can’t wait to watch me get shots LOL]  She took my blood pressure and then asked me to lie down on the couch so she could hear the baby with the Doppler.

That was the first things that weirded me out.  Having that COLD blue gel squeezed onto my stomach in the middle of my living room was a little more intimate than I was comfortable with.  It’s the only way I can describe it, but it made me very uncomfortable to be having medical procedures performed by a stranger in my house.  Then I had to pull my pants down way further than my regular nurse ever asked.  The shot was administered further down and with more gusto than I’m used to.  My home nurse didn’t take the care to let it go slowly so the very very thick solution could absorb more easily.  She also didn’t rub the area for a minute or so to work it in.  Both were things my regular midwife office nurse took time to do so that the area didn’t get sore afterward.  I rubbed it myself, it hurt more than normal.  I was not pleased.

Then, the last clue as to why I was put off by this particular nurse was revealed.  She spoke about her PPD group at Riverview.  The hospital where Alexa was born.  It took a few days to click, but could it be?  Was this the same nurse that was in the delivery room with me?  Nooooooooooooooo, couldn’t be!  I was just feeling off from everything else.  I was just being too sensitive and making things up.  I was just tired of being poked and prodded and was scrambling for any excuse to go back to what was familiar!

Last Tuesday night I finally worked up the nerve (aka remembered) to go through the pictures of Alexa’s birth.  There aren’t many.  Really all I have are the ones of me looking terrible after the surgery, trying to catch a glimpse of my newborn daughter before they rush her off to another hospital.  There’s a nurse standing behind me in all of these photos.  I remembered the pictures and knew someone was back there…

  • the nurse that had been in the room when I was first admitted.
  • the nurse that had told me I had waited too long to come in.
  • the nurse that had told me I should’ve come earlier because now they couldn’t stop my labor, I was too far along.
  • the nurse that basically told me this was all my fault, that I was going to deliver at 30 weeks and I could’ve done something more to stop it.
  • the nurse that judged so harshly because we were using a midwife and birthing center practice in NYC and had actually had the gall to ask Peter why in the world we would want to do that.

It was her.  Her name tag spelled it out clear as day.  It was her.  I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t have that person in my house.  I already feel enough guilt and judgement about that day…I don’t need a weekly reminder of it.  She sealed the deal the next morning by showing up unannounced to give me my next shot.  At 8:30 in the freaking morning!

So…I’ve canceled my appointments.  After all of that work and hope that I’d get a nurse to come here, I’m choosing to go back to my two-hour round trip, once a week, appointments at the midwives’ office.  I would much rather drive than feel like this.

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2 Comments leave one →
  1. December 7, 2011 11:49 am

    I don’t blame you! I wouldn’t want that woman in my house, either. I’m so sorry for all this…nonsense you’ve had to go through. I know you have very real (potentially scary) health concerns to attend to, but I kind of want to be like, “It’s just PREGNANCY, for heaven’s sake!”

    As for the “this is all your fault” implication, you know what’s bullshit, right?

    • December 7, 2011 3:52 pm

      I feel the same way Noelle! It’s just a pregnancy. It’s normal! What happened last time was abnormal but not representative of what every single pregnancy that might happen to me would be like. Though….I’ll be considered “high risk” till the end of time, even if I had 10 more babies and they were all carried and born “normally”.

      I know, logically, that it’s not my fault….but I think I’m a little “ptsd-ish” about it all. I still feel the same fear, I know you understand, and it sucks. It made it suck even more to have that jolt to my memories brought back when the same judgey bitch nurse was sent to my home to “help” me keep this baby in full term.

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