I am writing this mostly just to document my experience before I forget. I am also writing it so that the next time you go to the hospital, have a baby, get a routine check-up, or just a visit with your family doctor, you will have an appreciation for how good we have it in the good ol’ USA. I feel like I should just state for the record that this is only my experience. I am not trying to make a judgment of the entire South African medical system. I am only reporting on what I went through during my birth experience at one hospital in Johannesburg…but it certainly was a doozy.
Jake and I arrived at the hospital (Sandton Mediclinic) for one last check with my doctor, Dr. Peter Koll. This guy is brilliant and I loved him more with each appointment. He was laid back, enthusiastic, caring, and all around perfect. I never thought I would love anyone as much as Dr Kaldas (Neenah) but this guy was a close second. After a quick check and a chat, they sent me up to the Labor and Delivery ward where I was introduced to my nurse/midwife for the day, Nurse Pippa. Once again, the gods were smiling on me. She was absolutely awesome. Straight forward and no fluffy talk (I hate fluffy talk). Things started out slowly but they cranked up my Pitosin and I was 4 cm to 10 cm in a little over an hour or so. I will spare you the details but the birth of my little – or not so little – Jack was the best of all three. The miracle never ceases to amaze. I can’t say enough about Dr Koll, Pippa, and that very important part of the experience. What followed was a whole different ball game…enter the JV squad.
From the L & D ward, I was moved to the Maternity Ward. As you may recall, I had booked myself for the VIP Suite. Unfortunately, all three of them were taken and I was moved into a private room. It was small but at least I wasn’t sharing a room…pretty common here. I am no princess, but the thought of sharing a room with another mother and baby makes my stomach turn. No can do. Once I was in my room, I was supposed to have dinner, some pain meds, and some water (we’re talking basics here people). My dinner arrived 2 hours late, was microwaved slop, and only showed up after I asked the head nurse about four times…she was annoyed with me. No meds. No water. There was supposed to be a bed for Jake…no bed for Jake. On a happy note, my friend Alex showed up with a teeny tiny bottle of champagne for me. We had a good laugh, sipped a teeny tiny glass of champagne, and compared small humans. Later that evening a nurse – well, I think she was a nurse – walked into the room, grabbed a wrapped and sleeping Jack from his little bed, unwrapped him, held him up in the air, smacked his butt a few times and said, “Ooooohhhh…I love these fat little boys!” She wrapped him back up and put him back in his bed and that was it. She didn’t check him over, she didn’t take his temp or whatever else they are supposed to do, just a smack on the little baby bumbum. She left and Jake and I looked at each other and said, what the hell was that? Needless to say, Jake went home that night and I was on my own. Over the course of the night, not one nurse came into my room to check my blood pressure, check my temp, or make sure I wasn’t dead! They encourage “rooming in” with your baby which was fine, but what if I had fainted? What if something would have happened? No one would have known until………
4:30 am: Jack and I are sound asleep. The door opens, the lights flip on, and the “nurse” says, “I’m here to change your catheter.” My response?
I DON’T HAVE A CATHETER!! Can you please turn the lights off and leave?
5:00 am: The door opens, the lights flip on, and the lady says, “I need to empty your garbage bins.” WHAT!?!?!?! Now? You have to empty the garbage now? While I’m sleeping?
5:30 am: The door opens, the lights flip on, and the “nurse” says, “I have your meds.” I ask her what it is and she replies, “I’m not sure, they just said you requested it.” Nope…didn’t request any medication and if you can’t tell me what it is, I don’t think I should take it. She told me I should take it with my breakfast.
Breakfast: Never showed up. I asked probably five times, again annoying the head nurse with every request. Luckily Jake came back and went down to the hospital café to get me breakfast. Just before lunch a tray showed up with absolute SLOP that was leftover from breakfast. Gross. No thanks.
That morning the pediatrician (a pediatrician that came recommended) came to check Jack. They did a heel prick and told me that his blood sugar was low. I had never heard of this. Apparently its pretty common, I had just never heard about it. She told me they would be checking it again in a few hours. Fine. Nothing to worry about. The test a few hours later came back lower and she told me they would give him some formula. Now, I’m no card carrying La Leche League member by any means, but I didn’t want to give my baby formula without understanding how it was going to help this low blood sugar thing. When it was time for the second test we walked Jack down to the nursery and I told her I just wanted to understand why we needed to give him formula. She looked at me – totally annoyed – and said, “I don’t know when it became a criminal offense to FEED a hungry baby!” I felt my eyes well up and my chin wobble and knew I was done. Were we feeding a hungry baby (and was he hungry??? He seemed pretty content to me) or were we doing something for his blood sugar? In any case, I told her to do the test and just see what his levels were and then I would decide. Miracle of miracles, his blood sugar was exactly where it should be and I was done dealing with her and the blood sugar incident. I still wonder if the test really came back ok or she just wanted me out of her way. She was clearly annoyed with my tears and new momma stress. From that point on my interactions with her were short with a twinge of watch-out-for-these-hormones, b*tch.
We finally complained when Dr Koll came to check on me and asked how things were going. He sent an administrator up to talk to us and we thought things would get better. We were moved to the VIP suite which was great. It was big and nice and comfortable and I had every hope I was going to get at least the last couple days of rest and recovery that I had hoped for. The rest of that day was great. My in-laws brought the boys up and we just hung out. It was great.
That night a “nurse” came in and I will never forget her. She was wearing a blackish/purplish wig and scratching her head with far too much vigor for my liking. The scratching went on for what seemed like an eternity and I could feel any tolerance slipping away. She told me she was there to give me my suppositories. I asked her what they were for and she told me she didn’t know but that I had requested them. Again, I had not requested them and…well, let’s just leave that one alone. Then she said, “I’m also here to wash you.” WHAT!?!? Wash me? I, unable to hide my absolute frustration, told her that this was my third baby and I was very capable of washing myself. My head nearly exploded. She did take my blood pressure and this was the first time in the 24 hours after Jack was born.
At this point I realized that my hopes for my hospital stay were crushed and I just wanted out. The next day was slightly better. Its seems the A Team works days and the B (C, D, Z) Team works nights. I resigned myself to the fact that my dreams for “the Beyonce suite” were fizzled and gone. Unfortunately, the popular phrase, “TIA” (this is Africa) also applied to my recovery from childbirth. What would I have done if this had been my first baby and I didn’t know what to expect? There are a million what-if’s but we made it out alive. In retrospect, I still feel a little sad about what I had hoped for and what really happened, but I am also eternally grateful for the most amazing birth of a most amazing - and healthy – little boy.
Jake and I arrived at the hospital (Sandton Mediclinic) for one last check with my doctor, Dr. Peter Koll. This guy is brilliant and I loved him more with each appointment. He was laid back, enthusiastic, caring, and all around perfect. I never thought I would love anyone as much as Dr Kaldas (Neenah) but this guy was a close second. After a quick check and a chat, they sent me up to the Labor and Delivery ward where I was introduced to my nurse/midwife for the day, Nurse Pippa. Once again, the gods were smiling on me. She was absolutely awesome. Straight forward and no fluffy talk (I hate fluffy talk). Things started out slowly but they cranked up my Pitosin and I was 4 cm to 10 cm in a little over an hour or so. I will spare you the details but the birth of my little – or not so little – Jack was the best of all three. The miracle never ceases to amaze. I can’t say enough about Dr Koll, Pippa, and that very important part of the experience. What followed was a whole different ball game…enter the JV squad.
From the L & D ward, I was moved to the Maternity Ward. As you may recall, I had booked myself for the VIP Suite. Unfortunately, all three of them were taken and I was moved into a private room. It was small but at least I wasn’t sharing a room…pretty common here. I am no princess, but the thought of sharing a room with another mother and baby makes my stomach turn. No can do. Once I was in my room, I was supposed to have dinner, some pain meds, and some water (we’re talking basics here people). My dinner arrived 2 hours late, was microwaved slop, and only showed up after I asked the head nurse about four times…she was annoyed with me. No meds. No water. There was supposed to be a bed for Jake…no bed for Jake. On a happy note, my friend Alex showed up with a teeny tiny bottle of champagne for me. We had a good laugh, sipped a teeny tiny glass of champagne, and compared small humans. Later that evening a nurse – well, I think she was a nurse – walked into the room, grabbed a wrapped and sleeping Jack from his little bed, unwrapped him, held him up in the air, smacked his butt a few times and said, “Ooooohhhh…I love these fat little boys!” She wrapped him back up and put him back in his bed and that was it. She didn’t check him over, she didn’t take his temp or whatever else they are supposed to do, just a smack on the little baby bumbum. She left and Jake and I looked at each other and said, what the hell was that? Needless to say, Jake went home that night and I was on my own. Over the course of the night, not one nurse came into my room to check my blood pressure, check my temp, or make sure I wasn’t dead! They encourage “rooming in” with your baby which was fine, but what if I had fainted? What if something would have happened? No one would have known until………
4:30 am: Jack and I are sound asleep. The door opens, the lights flip on, and the “nurse” says, “I’m here to change your catheter.” My response?
I DON’T HAVE A CATHETER!! Can you please turn the lights off and leave?
5:00 am: The door opens, the lights flip on, and the lady says, “I need to empty your garbage bins.” WHAT!?!?!?! Now? You have to empty the garbage now? While I’m sleeping?
5:30 am: The door opens, the lights flip on, and the “nurse” says, “I have your meds.” I ask her what it is and she replies, “I’m not sure, they just said you requested it.” Nope…didn’t request any medication and if you can’t tell me what it is, I don’t think I should take it. She told me I should take it with my breakfast.
Breakfast: Never showed up. I asked probably five times, again annoying the head nurse with every request. Luckily Jake came back and went down to the hospital café to get me breakfast. Just before lunch a tray showed up with absolute SLOP that was leftover from breakfast. Gross. No thanks.
That morning the pediatrician (a pediatrician that came recommended) came to check Jack. They did a heel prick and told me that his blood sugar was low. I had never heard of this. Apparently its pretty common, I had just never heard about it. She told me they would be checking it again in a few hours. Fine. Nothing to worry about. The test a few hours later came back lower and she told me they would give him some formula. Now, I’m no card carrying La Leche League member by any means, but I didn’t want to give my baby formula without understanding how it was going to help this low blood sugar thing. When it was time for the second test we walked Jack down to the nursery and I told her I just wanted to understand why we needed to give him formula. She looked at me – totally annoyed – and said, “I don’t know when it became a criminal offense to FEED a hungry baby!” I felt my eyes well up and my chin wobble and knew I was done. Were we feeding a hungry baby (and was he hungry??? He seemed pretty content to me) or were we doing something for his blood sugar? In any case, I told her to do the test and just see what his levels were and then I would decide. Miracle of miracles, his blood sugar was exactly where it should be and I was done dealing with her and the blood sugar incident. I still wonder if the test really came back ok or she just wanted me out of her way. She was clearly annoyed with my tears and new momma stress. From that point on my interactions with her were short with a twinge of watch-out-for-these-hormones, b*tch.
We finally complained when Dr Koll came to check on me and asked how things were going. He sent an administrator up to talk to us and we thought things would get better. We were moved to the VIP suite which was great. It was big and nice and comfortable and I had every hope I was going to get at least the last couple days of rest and recovery that I had hoped for. The rest of that day was great. My in-laws brought the boys up and we just hung out. It was great.
That night a “nurse” came in and I will never forget her. She was wearing a blackish/purplish wig and scratching her head with far too much vigor for my liking. The scratching went on for what seemed like an eternity and I could feel any tolerance slipping away. She told me she was there to give me my suppositories. I asked her what they were for and she told me she didn’t know but that I had requested them. Again, I had not requested them and…well, let’s just leave that one alone. Then she said, “I’m also here to wash you.” WHAT!?!? Wash me? I, unable to hide my absolute frustration, told her that this was my third baby and I was very capable of washing myself. My head nearly exploded. She did take my blood pressure and this was the first time in the 24 hours after Jack was born.
At this point I realized that my hopes for my hospital stay were crushed and I just wanted out. The next day was slightly better. Its seems the A Team works days and the B (C, D, Z) Team works nights. I resigned myself to the fact that my dreams for “the Beyonce suite” were fizzled and gone. Unfortunately, the popular phrase, “TIA” (this is Africa) also applied to my recovery from childbirth. What would I have done if this had been my first baby and I didn’t know what to expect? There are a million what-if’s but we made it out alive. In retrospect, I still feel a little sad about what I had hoped for and what really happened, but I am also eternally grateful for the most amazing birth of a most amazing - and healthy – little boy.
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