Our hospital experience, pt 1

TBO had our baby 3 weeks ago, at a hospital I'll call ValleyValley Reminiscence. The first inkling we had that our stay at VVR would be, shall we say, less than ideal, came when we first arrived in the maternity ward, where TBO was about to be induced. The nurse on call, when told by TBO that she had wanted her childbirth to be as natural as possible, given the givens, spoke at length about how she had given birth 4 times naturally, and that it wasn't as bad as everybody makes it out to be. We had been instructed, on the other hand, that the drug used to induce labor creates contractions about 10x as intense/painful as normal, and that no one sane lives through them without taking the epidural, especially after the water breaks. No matter to this nurse, as she took every opportunity over the next 8 hours to let us know that she had given birth 4 times naturally. This kind of attitude went a long way to making TBO feel like a failure when, after enduring several hours of mindless agony, she asked for the epidural. Having witnessed her pain secondhand, I can assure everyone that in no way should any person think of her as anything less than heroic for enduring as long as she did.
The labor progressed fitfully after that, but at least TBO wasn't groaning at the top of her lungs every 2-3 minutes anymore. The boy (I'll call him Owen) descended rapidly--too rapidly, as it turned out, because TBO was only dilated 40-50% of the required way when Owen was actually in the physical position to emerge. This is not good, and poor Owen began to react negatively to TBO's contractions. His heartrate would plummet during her contractions, and after one protracted and dangerous slowdown, the docs called for an emergency Caesarian. Things moved with an alarming alacrity then, lemme tellya. Within a span of 5 minutes, TBO was laid out on an operating table and after another 5 minutes, Owen was in the world.
A Caesarian Section is, as the adage goes, akin to sausage and legislation--no one should witness their making. I was positioned at TBO's head, but only a 3 foot by 2 foot screen separated us from the action, and because I was off to one side, it took only a little tilt of my head to see what the docs were doing. I made that mistake just as they were pulling Owen out; for some this might have been a glorious moment, and I surprised many by taking it all in calmly. What happened next was what made this moment bizarre for me. The nurses immediately whisked Owen off to a side table, where they proceeded to pound the boy mercilessly about the back and stomach in attempts to get him to cough up whatever junk resided in his stomach and lungs. I was shocked by the ferocity of their attacks, wondering seriously whether they would break his ribs. At this point, one of the nurses cheerfully called out, "Daddy? This is a great time to take some pictures! Come on over!" I was stunned, but dumbly/numbly submitted to their demand and took a couple shots. While at the side table, I made the mistake of turning my head 90 degrees, just in time to see the doc stuffing TBO's innards back into her body. Lots of innards. I did not take a picture of that. I also didn't capture the doc's cauterizing her internal wounds, nor his masterful and incredibly fast suturing of her outer layers of skin.
After a short while where I was just kind of wandering around the room, the nurses gave up their quest to cause Owen to vomit, and instead sent tubes down his nose into his various internal cavities to suck out the fluids and solids remaining. These procedures lasted a few minutes after which both Owen and I were whisked off to TBO's bedroom, where another nurse was given the task to make the boy cry. No simple butt-slapping of longtime media tradition here; apparently the most effective manner in which to cause massive squealing is sharp slaps to the soles of the baby's feet. Repeatedly. Apparently, for up to the half hour this nurse took before she finally gave up. Owen was clearly having none of it, and refused to cry out in anguish in response to being beaten yet again. (He has since learned this skill on his own.) (The crying, that is, not the being beaten!) TBO spent a couple hours in recovery, after which the happy family was reunited.
At this point, I have to note that TBO spent a great deal of time and energy investing in learning all there is about breastfeeding, and defending her stance that she would breastfeed come hell or high water to those who questioned its value. I also must note that Valleyvalley Reminiscence makes a lot--I mean, a lot--of noise about being a breastfeeding supportive environment. Every wall in the maternity wing of VVR is plastered with posters declaiming the benefits of breastfeeding and stressing VVR's support of this aspect of mothering. This was one of the reasons TBO had decided on using VVR, even though it is not exactly around the corner from our house. We presumed all of this advertising meant that the employees of VVR were on board with breastfeeding as well, and were well versed in the techniques, struggles, and successful implementation of a breastfeeding regimen. We presumed wrong.
Upon arrival at the room, TBO was tasked with feeding the boy, which we knew was key to beginning a successful breastfed infancy. (The few hours delay due to the C-Section was unfortunate, but obviously couldn't be helped, and we all wanted to start ASAP.) Present in the room were 2 nurses, TBO, me, and her parents. The nurses, whom if you remember we presumed knew what the hell they were doing, insisted that TBO had to use a certain breastfeeding position, even though TBO objected due to its discomfort for her. This particular position has the baby placed next to the breast alongside the woman, with both mother and child laying on their sides. TBO was violently opposed because she felt she was smothering the boy, but the nurses overruled her intuitions, stating flatly that 1) babies are born with snub noses for this very reason--their nostrils are "out of the way"; and 2) Owen would push away from TBO if he were in any danger of suffocating. TBO capitulated--these were the f$%^ing experts, after all, weren't they?
Um, no. Owen stopped breathing and turned blue. The nurses? They weren't even paying attention. TBO had to cry out for them to return to the bedside of a first-time mother who had just been through an emergency C-Section as she attempted to breastfeed for the first time her 3 hour old baby. I ran out to the desk outside screaming, "We have a blue baby in here! Help!" The first nurse on the scene grabbed the boy and shook him violently, yelling, "Owen! Owen!" (If anyone reads that sentence and is not both appalled and horrified, you obviously never saw many legal or medical dramas growing up, because quite often any storyline concerning the death of a baby would revolve around Shaken Baby Syndrome. I won't even get into the absurdity of calling out the name of a newborn, as if he would respond!) I was aghast; this child is not asleep, you moron, he isn't breathing! Soon enough, people with brains larger than peanut-size arrived to resuscitate our child, but immediately thereafter and for the next day or so, the nurses continued to insist that TBO use that same breastfeeding position.
Next: It gets worse.