Explaining my IVF with PGD to a friend, including the fact that the PGD was to make sure I wasn’t going to pass on my genetic neurological condition to my child. She immediately commented “oh just relax and it’ll happen naturally!” And went on to tell me about a family member who had multiple failed rounds of IVF and then got pregnant naturally when they stopped trying. Clearly hadn’t listened to a word is said.
Probably a common one, but the consultant who came in while I was in labour. I’d been in hospital for nearly 3 days at this point, with start-stop labour and then failure to progress. I remember being so so tired, with contraction after contraction with only a few seconds between, but I was stuck at 7cm. The gas and air did nothing for me and I really started to think the contractions were going to snap my spine in half (turned out she was back to back but no one told me that at the time). A consultant was brought in to approve induction. The only thing keeping me going at that point was getting a bit angry with the pain, which came out as a sort of growling noise. The consultant told me to be quiet and save my energy for pushing. That absolutely broke me. I felt so belittled and put in my place all the fight just left me. It took away the last bit of coping ability I had left. I ended up with forceps on the operating table halfway through being prepped for an emergency c section, haemorrhaged nearly 2litres of blood while listening to someone shouting “the transfusion won’t get here in time!”, followed by severe PND, mostly based around the feeling I’d failed.
Not helping on the PND front was my mum commenting “is that all you’ve got? You’ve been at that for ages!” When I was back in hospital with double mastitis that went septic, after I’d been trying to hand express for hours.
Or the midwife who came to my home, saw me breastfeeding in a way that was working for me, immediately turned to her student, gestured at me and said “now what can you see wrong with this picture?”. She changed my position around and then left. I tried to feed in the new position for 13 solid hours, with DD screaming every time I tried to stop. Then went to hospital with the aforementioned septic mastitis.
Finally, not to me, but the woman in the waiting room at the Peri-natal Mental Health centre saying to a shellshocked looking young woman with a tiny baby, “make the most of enjoying these newborn days!” …errr I suspect she may be here precisely because she’s NOT enjoying them…