K did not receive any prenatal care while she was pregnant with Vincent, so she didn’t have a referring doctor or even a hospital planned where she was going to deliver the baby, but she knew she wanted to give birth at the same hospital where she was born, but she didn’t know any of the doctors, nurses, or any of the staff there.
I arrived at the hospital (which I won’t name since I don’t have very nice things to say about them) around the same time as K and L did. He dropped her off at the emergency room where the nurses proceeded to ask her all sorts of questions. They put her in a wheelchair and took her up to maternity all the while asking her ‘how do you even know you’re pregnant?’ ‘if you didn’t get any prenatal care, how do you know your due date?’ I don’t know exactly how she felt, but I felt judged, and I wasn’t the one wanting care at the hospital.
After we got to the maternity ward, this very frazzled and not very nice nurse proceeds to treat K like she’s growing 3 heads instead of a person inside of her. She takes a whole bunch of blood and hooks a band around her belly…that was the first time we heard Vincent’s heartbeat. The nurse proceeds to tell K she’s not in labor, but she’s going to get all of these tests because why in the world someone would come to the hospital to want to have a baby seemed to be beyond her level of comprehension. Also, when asked who I was and trying to explain the whole adoption added another level of stress and confusion onto this poor nurse who was clearly not having the best day already.
I can’t remember what part came next, but I think it was the doctor who came in to talk to K. I know several doctors, and I’ve never interacted with a doctor as awful as this one. The nicest thing I can think to call him is an asshole. (Husband, K, L, and I then referred to him as the “dentist” instead of other choice words that start with D.) Let me set the scene for you, K is laying in the bed, Dr. D-Bag is standing about 10 feet away from her, and L and I are sitting on the couch in the back of the room. Dr. D-Bag starts scolding K for not receiving prenatal care, for not taking care of herself, and countless other things. These are some actual quotes during his lecture to K: “Do you think you can just walk into any hospital and have a baby? We don’t do that here.” “Why didn’t you get any care? (To which K meekly responds ‘insurance’ and before giving her a chance to explain further he says) Insurance? Excuse me, but not having insurance is a bullshit reason for not getting prenatal care.” “And then there’s the so-called adoption that’s going on. Did you just arrange this yourselves?” How K didn’t burst into tears the minute he left, I’ll never know. I was close to tears, and close to punching him in the face, and he wasn’t even directly talking to me.
I don’t want to speak for K, so these thoughts are all assumptions, but I imagine she’s probably scared out of her mind. She’s 19, having a baby that she’s considering placing for adoption, and some doctor is judging all of her life decisions up to this point.
Everyone is telling K she’s not in labor, so we make plans to go out to eat, discuss some things, and find a different hospital for her when the baby is born. In the meantime, the hospital made an appointment for K to get an ultrasound and meet with the midwives. It was that ultrasound that we found out she was having a boy. We were getting a son!
By this time, it’s around 2:00 in the afternoon, and we’ve been at the hospital since 9:00am, but K has her appointment with the midwives, so we head there and sit in the waiting room. (Husband joined us at some point before meeting Dr. D-Bag.) They take K in the back and she’s gone for a long time. L, Husband, and I are amusing ourselves in the waiting room, talking with other perspective parents, including one woman who was planning on having a water birth. Husband and L kept on making me laugh as only they can do. Finally, they called L back there too. When he came back, he told us K was 5 centimeters dilated and in active labor. We were really actually having a baby that day!
K decided to use the midwives and eventually had an all natural birth (have I mentioned how awesome she is?!?!), and Husband and I were in the waiting room. L kept coming out and giving us updates – including one where K was 6 cm dilated, walking around the maternity ward and Dr. D-Bag says (loud enough for her to hear) “Are you sure she’s in labor? She doesn’t look in near enough pain to be in labor.”
After several hours, L came out to tell Husband and I to come back and meet Vincent.
Our baby was born, and our lives were changed forever. Miracles happen, and prayers are answered.
To read about the 72 hour wait before Husband and I were able to take Vincent home, please read “The Hardest 72”.
This is the final installment in The Road to Adoption series. To catch up on the previous entries, check these blogs out: