As you all already know, it was quite a surprise for us when our eldest daughter, Indy Mari, informed us on a summer evening in 2021, at the age of three, that she was going to have a sister from Tartu to help with cleaning. She will arrive on 8th. And a little later she said her name was Elistin. On International Women’s Day, our little Eli turned two, but two years ago, I tried to avoid induction and tricked my way into childbirth due to COVID-19 rules so that my partner could also be part of it.
By the summer of 2021, I had long felt extremely exhausted, attributing it to sleepless nights, caring for two consecutive babies, breastfeeding, and constant iron deficiency. What Indy Mari said couldn’t possibly be true because our son, just over a year old, was still breastfeeding, and I had just started hormone treatment on the doctor’s recommendation. According to the medical world, it was not possible.
After the doubts arose, seeing two lines, and undergoing medical examination, even the midwife admitted that this child really wanted to join our company. The surprise was, of course, great, and there was also a slight fear because, well – three small children, each needing your help in everything, is not an easy task. But the vision of how wonderful it will be for the three of them in the future. That’s what I see today, and it’s indescribably awesome and heartwarming!
Later, upon delving deeper into the topic, I came across articles on the internet suggesting that a breastfeeding mother’s body can nullify any ingested hormone, meaning that for new breastfeeding mothers – if you’re breastfeeding, it might not be advisable to rely on hormones just in case. But everybody is different.
Okay. We got used to the idea and once again started our monthly visits to the midwife. We didn’t know when little Eli actually settled in with us. So, based on what was seen in the ultrasound, a due date was set somewhere towards the end of February.
It was during the height of the pandemic. The child’s father was never allowed to accompany me to the ultrasound, which made me feel as if I were dealing with my own individual project. It was terribly difficult to bear the fact that Tuljo was not allowed to participate in discussions with doctors about the child due to COVID-19 rules. Naturally, this also reduced the bond between the growing baby in my belly and Dad.
I went to a private clinic midwife in Tartu because my clinic midwife was still at home with her child at the time. Since I refused to get the COVID vaccine while pregnant, I was asked not to visit that clinic again in the future. I was taken aback. Shouldn’t such a decision be voluntary, especially during pregnancy when pregnant women and the effects of the vaccine hadn’t been properly studied?
In the middle of pregnancy, I had to start looking for a new midwife. Fortunately, our previous midwife returned to work at just the right time. A lovely woman from an Estonian island, but all this COVID fuss had also changed her attitude.
The baby grew nicely in my belly, and all my indicators were fine. The due date set by the doctors came, but there was no sign from the baby in my belly that she wanted to come out to explore the world.
Actually, two episodes of the show “Pealtnägija” about birth violence and lost babies prompted me to share this piece here. The situation I found myself in led me to search the internet desperately for information and stories to trust my intuition and stand my ground. I wanted to know someone else’s story, which is why I am sharing mine, to sometimes trust your gut feeling and challenge the medical professionals a bit if there are no physical indications.
https://menu.err.ee/1608129313/pealtnagija-mis-on-sunnitusvagivald
Even with my first child, I felt loneliness and helplessness in the maternity ward. I was forced not to trust my instincts because the intern knew exactly how long it takes for a first-time mother to give birth: https://motomari.com/maailma-marudam-piiga-sai-kaheseks-meenutus-sellest-kuidas-indy-mari-meie-perega-liitus/
The due date for pregnancy is 40 weeks. It’s perfectly fine if the baby is born even three weeks before or two weeks after that deadline. Indy was born three days later than the given due date, and Jakary was born exactly on the right day. However, an induction time was set for Elistin before the completion of the 41st week.
I was taken aback! When I inquired about the reason for inducing labor so early, I was told that’s just how things go, and the baby has to be born. There were no physical indications for inducing labor so early – both my and the baby’s indicators were fine, and I couldn’t understand such a course of action. If everything is fine with us, then why do we need to intervene and start coaxing the baby out of the womb with medication? Why can’t we wait until natural labor begins, or at least be monitored until the 42nd week?
For the first time in my life, I listened very strongly to my intuition! At that moment, it seemed to me simply about fulfilling regulations, and being part of the system, not based on our individual situation.
My heart sensed trouble; if I agreed, this situation wouldn’t end well.
Since induction of labor also involves hormones, what if they don’t work? When I got pregnant, my body rejected them, and they didn’t work. If the same thing happens again, could it somehow harm the baby in my belly? If induction fails and my body doesn’t respond to the medications, can we end up with a cesarean section on the operating table? There were too many dubious issues in the air that I didn’t like, and the midwife didn’t want to deal with them. The first date and time were just set in stone.
I couldn’t accept that thought. Where else but the internet could I quickly search for information because time was ticking. I read various stories and found out how many have undergone induction and ended up with a cesarean because induction failed. And how many babies have suffered in the process? I can’t even write about, how some babies have been deprived of oxygen, needing resuscitation. No, I couldn’t accept that thought because we had no physical indications to intervene in nature’s course.
I found the contact of a doula in one of the Facebook groups, who happened to be a mother of nine children herself. I gathered the courage and simply called her, and that phone call changed my entire attitude. She asked me with a smile, “Do you know any woman who has been pregnant forever? In the end, we all give birth!”
She had carried a baby even up to the 43rd week, and there were no physical indications that anything was wrong. The topic of induction is also part of the system and rules that midwives simply have to follow. The doula advised me to stand my ground and start postponing the induction by a day. Also, to ask what are our physical indications for induction because Elistin wasn’t even a large baby.
Immense gratitude for the long conversation and abundance of new information, that’s how I started doing it – postponing the induction. The last time was set for the morning of March 7th, when I was supposed to go to Tartu for induction. I remember that on that morning I called again and begged for an extension. The midwife didn’t take this news that I wasn’t planning to come very well at all. I was expected to come again the next morning.
For those who know our previous stories, our family has a fantastic “bone-twister”. I had already been to Arne during my pregnancy, and he greatly helped alleviate the tension in my body. Additionally, I remembered that he emphasized to me that as a pregnant woman, I must not fall on my knees or hurt my ankles because by affecting certain points, the pregnancy could be compromised. Since I remembered this, I called Arne to ask if he could actually affect those specific points because I didn’t want to go for induction with the help of medication. I got an appointment with him, and he pressed on the specific points under the knees and on the outer side of the ankles.
Indy told us that Elistin would come on the eighth. We were actually expecting her on the eighth of February because I had gotten quite large during this third pregnancy, and it was physically very challenging. Now, I don’t know if it was due to Arne’s intervention or if it was meant to be this way, but on the morning of International Women’s Day, it felt right. The contractions started before seven in the morning, and quickly we asked my mother-in-law and father-in-law to come and watch the children at our apartment. I think we left home around eight o’clock – it’s about 120 kilometers to Tartu.
On the way, the contractions became very intense and frequent, but still, I managed to keep calm. With my composure, I’ve made my partner quite pale on two previous occasions, but this time it worked exceptionally well.
Coronavirus time. Both of us without passes. I knew that if I went to the hospital to give birth too early, Tuljo wouldn’t be allowed to be present for the delivery. He had already missed out on all the procedures, and I had a small plan on how I could get him to be present for the birth of our third child.
When we arrived in Tartu, we calmly stopped by the gas station as usual to stock up on snacks for the next couple of days. I strolled leisurely around the parking lot at the clinic – the fresh spring air. At some point, however, I felt that the situation was getting very intense. I had everything planned out in my feelings, but not that the departments were under renovation and reaching the emergency room door was a much longer journey than I had anticipated. This long walk intensified the situation even more.
As I entered through the main door, I went to the bathroom. The mucus plug came off.
In the middle of the corridor, I told Tuljo to please wait for a moment, and then my waters broke – just like in the movies. Tuljo’s face turned pale. “Should I look for a wheelchair? Should I carry you?” he panicked. I moved forward slowly. Oh, how long that journey was. We had to leave the building for a moment and then enter again. There were other patients waiting outside the emergency room door who hadn’t been let in for some reason. Then I became briefly worried that if this delay continues, I’ll have to pull my pants down here. Tuljo checked the time: “I want to come to give birth!” he shouted to the reception. The women laughed. The door opened.
Long corridor. Third floor. Off with the outer clothes. I don’t exactly remember, but this time it was probably so fast that we weren’t even put in the pre-examination room. It was enough that my waters broke in the corridor and the third child was coming. We got to the delivery room. We were registered at 10:25.
And it began: do you have passports, have you had coronavirus. All answers were negative. I try to describe my feelings, but no one listens. We are left alone standing in the middle of the delivery room because they need to check the constantly updated coronavirus regulations. I ask not to be left alone, but to no avail. Standing up, I feel that the moment has come. The baby is coming!
Since I couldn’t move anywhere, I asked Tuljo to help me take off my pants. The feeling was so powerful that I was afraid the baby would fall out if I didn’t hold back. I screamed for the midwife’s help. Repeatedly! Tuljo helped me to bed. Everything was so intense that I had huge internal tears.
When the reinforcements arrived and I tried to deal with pushing, I closed my eyes and felt how between two pushes, they stuck that damn long stick up my nose to take a coronavirus test. I opened my eyes, but I couldn’t say anything. Couldn’t you have waited for a moment? We’re already in this room, the birth is happening, the baby is about to come, and you’re poking me with this damn stick! Where is the humanity? Elistin was on my stomach at 10:41. 16 minutes after we arrived at the emergency room. My calculation was damn accurate, and if I hadn’t done that, Tuljo wouldn’t have been able to be present for the birth of our third child.
It was terribly awful to tell Tuljo, “Okay, you can cut the umbilical cord, but then you have to leave!” That was terrible!
After the birth of the baby, I saw out of the corner of my eye a large syringe near my thigh, aimed directly at my thigh. I managed to ask before this action: “What is this and what is it for?” The answer was that it’s a hormone to help your uterus contract. I asked why they thought my uterus couldn’t do its job and requested not to have this injection.
The most brutal thing about this is that if I hadn’t noticed, it would have been done so quickly that I wouldn’t have known. After giving birth, you’re so full of adrenaline that I wouldn’t have felt or noticed the injection. But to inject something into me without my knowledge or consent? Why? Was there any indication of it? Everything was okay with me.
Tuljo was sent away at the moment when I needed him the most. I had an internal cervical tear. I was stitched up for over two hours. They’re stitching you for two hours, and you have to hold your newborn baby in your arms, shaking with pain. It was brutal, and it was a moment when undoubtedly the baby’s father could have been there for support.
Finally, I got to the postnatal ward. You know who my roommate was? A young girl who had gone for induction on the morning of March 7th, which ended in a cesarean section. I sat there with my tiny baby, my legs working, and I could take care of her peacefully, and I was so grateful that I stood by my intuition to resist induction this time. Of course, there are situations where it is necessary, but when there’s no direct reason. What would have happened if I had agreed?
Share in the Facebook comments or write to me if you’ve had situations where your intuition makes you doubt doctors’ decisions.
