The Girlfriend's Guide is an American book. We don't get put in wheelchairs in Australia. It's true in America, though, about the insurance thing.
I actually had a really wonderful hospital birth, but I was very, very fortunate to be able to do so, and also I fought tooth and nail in the leadup to be taken seriously. The GP who caught my daughter, afterwards, said to me that if I'd been another person she might have intervened more than she did.
I gave birth in a small, underfunded country hospital. Because it was so small, there was only one private obstetrician who practised there, and he wasn't resident, just on call. No resident anaesthetist. The rest of the service was provided by a group of four female GPs with an obstetric speciality, who rotated. I saw one of them for prenatal care, but couldn't rely on her being there for the birth. I saw all three of the others at least once before the birth, though. They were all country GPs, and three of them were middle-aged salt of the earth sort of women who were very woman-focused and very anti-intervention. The main hospital staff were midwives, all female. I only saw a doctor a couple of times during the labour, and I had a three day labour.
That hospital prided itself on its low C-section rate, which was around 10-15%. The leading private hospital in this state has a 60% C-section rate for primagravidas.
Anyway, the actual labour was very long (waters broke Thursday 4am, daughter born Monday 11am), and in a more medicalised environment I'd absolutely have ended up with a cascade of interventions. As it was, I was absolutely supported by sympathetic and interested women throughout. They let me talk about how I was feeling when I wavered about pain relief, and never told me what to do. Even the GP's recommendation, two days into active labour, that I have pethidine, was made as a suggestion with no coercion or emotional blackmail.
At the end of proceedings, it became obvious that the cord was wrapped very tightly around her neck, and she was in acute distress, and so the GP wanted to do a small episiotomy to allow a quick delivery. I didn't have a written birthplan, by choice, but she (GP) remembered that I'd not wanted any intervention at all. So she explained what was going on, and she explained why she wanted to do it, and she said she realised it wasn't my first choice but she thought it was best, and she absolutely made sure I was 100% on board with the whole thing. Likewise, my original desire to have the cord left intact until it stopped pulsing was lost, because my daughter needed resuscitation.
But when she was over at the resus table with my newly delivered daughter, and once the first flush of activity was over, she not only kept me informed about what was happening* but she apologised several times for the epi and the cord, and sympathised that things hadn't gone entirely to plan. She said it again a few hours later, as a follow-up, to check that I was alright with that.
At every step I was in control, I was listened to, I was treated as the person in the best place to make decisions. Like Sakura I was listened to, and I was respected. And it was definitely a feminist issue, because that was all about bodily autonomy and choice and respect.
*well, except no-one told me it was a girl. Funny story, another time.