bluehound33
Member
22 messages
joined Apr 2011
So, I am finally back home with the baby at last. My experience at Petrov Hospital wasn't exactly pleasant, to say the least. I suppose I should start somewhere...
When I was exactly 39 weeks pregnant, I went to Petrov Hospital for a non-stress test (NST), and they decided to admit me that very same day because the results were non-reactive—which meant induction might be necessary if things didn't improve during the day. Since there wasn't any room available in the high-risk maternity unit, I spent two days in pre-labor, then moved to the general maternity ward for about five or six days. It was only after that that I was transferred to PT1, which is where I actually should have been all along. The strange thing is, during that entire period, nobody actually examined me; they just ran the NST three or four times a day. That test is supposed to indicate how the baby is doing and whether we need to move toward induction. However, it seems most of the doctors take those findings quite casually—they glance at them and that’s about it. Then, the day before my due date, the doctors from the general ward concluded that my NST wasn't looking great and told me I’d need a C-section the following day. I spoke with the anesthesiologist that same day, signed the consent forms, and was taken by a nurse to see the doctor from my specific unit just to confirm the scheduled surgery. That is when the nonsense began. This particular doctor (I won't name names) saw me for the exam and flatly stated that a C-section was out of the question. He insisted we wait for natural labor and actually questioned why the doctors from the other ward were "interfering" in his business! How can two highly trained obstetricians have such wildly different opinions? He also claimed he would find me a bed on his unit tomorrow so I could be under his "supervision." (In hindsight, it turns out it would have been much better if I hadn't been under their supervision; they weren't exactly experts in patient care.) So, I sat there for a few more days. I was seen by five different doctors from that department, and not one of them mentioned a C-section; they were all strictly focused on natural delivery. Not once did anyone ask how I was managing with the Mestinon, or if I felt I would have enough strength left for the pushing stage. Then the weekend arrived, leaving me with only the on-call doctor, who didn't even bother to examine me. On Monday morning, I had an exam only for the doctor to conclude that over the weekend, my amniotic fluid had become extremely low (it hadn't leaked out, it had just thickened). He decided I would undergo induction the next day. By then, I was already six days past my due date. I hadn't even begun having contractions, yet I had spent days walking around the hospital with my cervix already two fingers dilated. Yet, no one seemed to think that perhaps it was finally time for me to give birth...
Anyway, on Tuesday night, the contractions finally hit. Regardless, at 6:00 AM, they put me on a drip as planned, ostensibly to "augment" my natural labor. They promised an epidural, and I did eventually get one, but only around 10:30 AM once the anesthesiologist finally deigned to show up. To make matters worse, he let a junior resident practice the epidural on me. She struggled with me for about twenty minutes before he stepped in arrogantly, saying, "Move aside, I'll do it; we can't afford to mess this up given the Mestinon situation." (Seriously? Must I even comment on that?)
By the time I got the epidural, I had already been through hell, because those induced contractions are absolutely brutal. I tried to breathe through them, but I kept tensing up. During those five hours without anesthesia, every muscle in my body—except the ones needed for pushing—was cramping with every contraction. By the time it was time to push, I was utterly exhausted and running on empty. We tried for a long time—push, pause, repeat—but nothing was happening. Finally, at 2:30 PM, the baby was delivered via vacuum assistance, with a doctor applying heavy pressure to my abdomen. Everyone kept saying, "It's coming, the pelvis is wide enough," but the baby simply couldn't emerge because I lacked the strength for that final surge. By then, it was too late for a C-section because the baby's head had descended into the birth canal, and there was no going back. When it was finally over, the baby didn't cry immediately; he had an Apgar score of 7/8 and was rushed straight to the NICU for an IV to recover from the traumatic birth. As for me, I was given two bags of fluids to help me recover, as I had nearly fainted while lying on the table.
And then the struggle with the pediatricians begins. Honestly, it’s a total madhouse. There are so many of them, yet everyone seems to have a different opinion, and nobody will give you a straight answer—it's all very "circle the wagons" and protect one another. My little one spent his first day in an incubator and then moved to the post-ICU unit. He had to stay there to recover and, more importantly, so they could monitor him for any signs of myasthenia. While he was recovering, around the fifth day after birth, they noticed what they claimed were symptoms of myasthenia—specifically difficulty swallowing and choking. So, for one day, they fed him via a tube and started him on 5 mg of Mestinon. He actually responded quite well to it and went back to bottle feeding. They kept him on Mestinon for about 10 to 14 days, I can't recall the exact duration. Eventually, the pediatrician told me they were giving him the medication preventatively; she suggested the choking might not even have been myasthenia, but perhaps just a lingering effect from birth asphyxia. There is some sort of antibody blood test, but since results take two or three months to come back, they didn't bother running it because neonatal myasthenia symptoms typically resolve spontaneously within three to four weeks. Consequently, even now, I still don't know for certain whether my child actually had myasthenia or not. I asked the pediatrician at discharge, and she admitted she wasn't even sure herself—she said they treated him as if he had it because they administered the medication, but it might not have been myasthenia at all. So, there you have it. Isn't that just wonderful?
It may not sound overwhelmingly negative when laid out like this, but for me, it was absolutely harrowing. You place your trust in the doctors, only to endure such exhaustion—both for myself and the baby—all while facing consequences that might have been avoided if they hadn't been busy shifting blame among themselves.
Well, it is all behind us now, but I certainly learned my lesson: next time, I will think much more carefully and ensure I am thoroughly informed beforehand. If anyone else has questions, please feel free to ask; I am happy to help.
And please forgive the long post, but I simply felt the need to get all of this off my chest.