Interestingly (debatably!), I also spent six weeks in an NHS hospital when I had my first child - so my experience might provide a useful contrast to that of the woman who wrote that article. Sorry, it's VERY long for a MN post - I've copied it in from elsewhere. I couldn't read that article and not post this, I'm afraid.
I had gestational diabetes from 24 weeks and had to inject insulin twice a day, and got pre-eclampsia at about 26 weeks. I was in a wheelchair from 16 weeks with unusually severe SPD - the consultant who examined me before induction said I could expect to feel like a woman giving birth with a broken pelvis. I was admitted to hospital at 29 weeks and kept in until they induced me at 34, then another week because DS1 was in intensive care, plus bit longer because I needed a transfusion..
At 30 weeks they showed me a baby weighing about 2lb fighting for his life, and told me to prepare myself (in the end he was 8lb7, because diabetes makes babies bigger). When I burst into tears after seeing the little baby, the midwife sniggered and said "not so keen to get it over with now, are you?" Most (not all) of the midwives who ?looked after? me as an inpatient made me feel as though I was going to be the worst mother in the world. They taunted me about my weight/appearance/emotional state and basically treated me with contempt. They did things like telling me I was to stay in bed for the day, then coming in a few hours later and saying ?couldn?t you even be bothered to get up and go for lunch??
I went into spontaneous labour at about 32 weeks and the consultant had written in my notes that it shouldn't be stopped because my pre-eclampsia was so advanced, and I had had the steroid injections to mature the baby's lungs. Then a doctor came in and blackmailed me in front of my parents and husband to take a labour-retarding drug by saying that if I didn't I would be in a coma in two hours (due to dangerously high blood pressure). My dad was in tears. Then one of the midwives told us it was because her colleague had given me a blood-thinner (Fragmin) which they were supposed to have stopped giving me when the decision was made not to stop me if I went into labour on my own, because there was more than a 50% chance of my needing a C-section and I could have bled to death. The consultant came in in the morning and said that my husband and I were liars and that I had never been in labour, that the drug the doctor had given me was to reduce blood pressure.
At one point during painful but non-productive contractions I urinated all over the bed (my pelvis was agony) and freaked out because I thought my waters had broken. Two midwives sauntered in and used a dipstick to test the fluid, then sniffed and made faces saying ?strong smell of urine? (which they also wrote in my notes) I could hear them laughing in the corridor about it afterwards.
I couldn't turn over in bed without help, I was in agony, I was vomiting and had an almost permanent headache and visual disturbances. The midwives took the p*ss out of my weight/appearance with the PET oedema and alternated between shouting at me for trying to get out of bed (eg to use the toilet) and sending the ancillary staff in to tell me that if I didn't get up I wouldn't get fed. They were openly contemptuous of my wanting my husband around and made patronising remarks about me being ?very dependent?.
During the actual birth - it was 24 hours long after having had no decent sleep for weeks. I was hooked up to monitors and a drip so was not allowed to move off my back for the entire 24 hours, despite this position being commonly recognised as agony for SPD sufferers. I was shouted at for making a fuss and called a "diva", laughed at for wetting the bed etc. Suddenly after hours of pain and being told ?you?re still only 7cm? over and over again, a consultant strode in, didn?t even make eye contact, shoved his hand up me and basically tore me the extra couple of cm, then said ?now she can push? and strode out again. I remember that ripping pain as a sort of sick icy crunching sensation. When the time finally came to push the baby out the midwife said "If you don't make more effort you're going to kill your baby" and then scolded me for screaming in pain. DS1 came out blue-grey and floppy with the cord round his neck and body. He didn?t breathe for five minutes and everyone thought he was dead. He was resuscitated and taken to SCBU.
I remember sitting on a metal bedpan in agony sobbing my heart out for about half an hour, alone apart from my husband, not knowing whether the baby was ok, waiting for the placenta to come out, then when it didn't come a midwife yanked on the cord and it snapped. Then I started to bleed, everywhere. They left me there for quite a bit longer while they discussed what to do. At least three people in plastic aprons were quietly cleaning up the blood that seemed to be just everywhere. They then rushed me to theatre and I thrashed about refusing point blank to let them touch me without giving me a general anaesthetic - I know it's not wise, but I had just had enough. A male doctor leaned down and said into my ear "No, childbirth isn't easy is it?" and then they put the mask over my face. When I woke up I was covered in blood, someone was sponging blood off my thighs, and someone put a Polaroid in my hand. I thought the baby had died. Then dh came in and enlightened me. I demanded to be taken to see him ,and a nice young midwife said she would take me but I mustn't tell anyone because she would lose her job for moving me. I saw DS1 briefly and went back to recovery. Then they moved me back up to the ward. In the morning two midwives came in and accused me of rejecting my baby and not caring about seeing him. I didn't say I had already seen him because I didn't want to betray the trust of the other midwife. I asked if I could see him now, and they said I would have to get up and walk. I explained that I hadn't walked for six months and was recovering from a general anaesthetic, and suggested dh take me in the wheelchair. One of the midwives said "You can't be selfish now, you've got a baby". I tried to walk and collapsed in a pool of blood and vomit in the corridor. Two days later the paediatrician in charge of my son (I gatecrashed a meeting about his care which I hadn?t been invited to) remarked that I looked like a vampire and was clearly about to collapse. I was then offered a blood transfusion. They also banned my husband from going into the neo-natal unit to see our son, because he had been delivering my expressed milk to the fridge for me and they thought it would be more fun to make me walk there myself, in pain.
I had about 200 stitches and several tears (one third degree tear, and internal and external lacerations). They weren?t planning to tell me anything about what damage I?d sustained or what repairs they had done (they did it all under GA while they were taking the placenta out). I had to corner a midwife and beg her to give me a few minutes ? she drew me a little diagram in biro to show me where the cuts/stitches were.
They moved me out of the side room I had been in for five weeks and put me in the post-natal ward with all the other mothers who had their babies in cots next to them. When the midwives came in to help mothers with feeding their babies, they brought me a big metal milking machine. I was essentially ignored from this point on ? at one point before the transfusion (very woozy and dizzy) I went to the toilet, collapsed and knocked the canula out of my hand. Blood poured out and I ended up semi-conscious on the floor until a doctor passing through the corridor noticed the blood coming under the door and came to carry me back to bed. The midwife on duty shouted at me for making a mess on the floor.
They eventually released us both and we were able to go home when ds1 was about 8 days old. I didn?t complain because I was too exhausted and shell-shocked, but I often wish I had.