I will start out by saying that EVERYTHING is done differently here. In some ways it was better for me and in other ways it was much worse. On one hand, the Netherlands is ranked as one of the top ten places to be a mother, on the other, there are a lot of unexplained infant deaths that get covered up here. Yes, home birthing is popular and midwives are the first line of defense instead of doctors here. Yes, I had to go to a midwife before I could even see a doctor and even then it would not be the doctor who delivered my baby. Oh, I'm sorry, did I just say a doctor didn't deliver my baby? Well, they were supposed to, but didn't. Oh, wait...rewind. There is information you don't have as to why I needed a doctor. Otherwise you might just assume that I am another pansy, pampered American like my nurses automatically assumed. Welllll...the short of the matter is that I have never spontaneously gotten pregnant before. There is always a bunch of poking and prodding and worrying associated with procreation with me, and then there are hormones I have to take to keep the hard work inside of me. In addition, I had an emergency c-section last time and Vaginal Birth After Cesareans pose some real threats that should be monitored closely by doctors during the birth process. I could rupture and die and leave my children motherless. VBAC's are doable...but they have the potential to be lifethreatening so a doctor should be there right at the end in case of something bad happening. And I was promised that there would be one there. I also ended up with high blood pressure during this pregnancy. Originally, they insisted on the VBAC, but with the high blood pressure and the size of my baby (he was getting big inside of me!) they offered me a c-section and it was scheduled for July 20th. The day after my birthday. I would simply turn 33 and deliver my baby the next day. The c-section itself would cause me to be in the hospital for 4 days hopped up on a morphine drip. BUT this is the way it actually happened:
My mom arrived on the afternoon of the 18th. We got her settled and went to bed. I was tired and had been having contractions. I had contractions my entire pregnancy and was on semi bed rest. That meant that if I got up and had contractions then I should lay back down. Just moving caused contractions pretty much the entire pregnancy. Oh well. To be fair, the dr's did give me plenty of ultrasounds and were attentive when I needed them to be...but the dr who saw me throughout the pregnancy didn't deliver babies. Crazy, right? The delivery would be handled by an entirely new team that I had never met before. I ended up in the emergency room with false labor 2 or 3 times so I was hoping that at least one of those dr's would end up being mine because at least they had seen my vagina before and my vagina wouldn't need to meet someone entirely new. Anyway, my C-section was scheduled for the 20th. At around 4 am, on the 19th, I suddenly woke up, sat up startled and my water broke. I have never had my water break before, least of all in my own bed. I was quite alarmed. I said "David, wake up, I think my water just broke" and then the craziness started. He let my mom know, I stood on the floor, he got a towel, I tried wiping it all up with my feet. The water was still gushing. We called the hospital, because you have to call before coming in...it's a rule. If you don't call they won't see you and if you do call and they don't have room, they will tell you to stay home. Not even kidding. I had to answer questions about my contractions and pain level and I was then given permission to come in to the hospital. (But not before the nurse told me I must not be in real labor because I wasn't breathing heavily and then demonstrated how I should be breathing...to which I replied that I didn't deal with pain that way!) I took a shower to ease the pain and wash off the icky sticky. I put on underwear and 4 hospital pads and my favorite yoga pants to labor in or leave in. Then I got in the car. We arrived at the hospital and walked into the back doors since it was so early in the morning. By the time we got there I was leaving a trail of liquid behind me. Nobody told me there would be so much fluid coming out of me! It was crazy! I had to wait awhile before I was ushered into a room where I was informed by the nurse that "this wasn't like america. it is more natural. we don't give you new, clean towels" to which I replied "right, you are not sanitary" and she said "touche!" She was very nice though. They hooked me up to the monitors. I labored for several hours but the contractions were not coming consistently so they decided to put me on a pitocin drip and rev them up. At this time the nursing staff changed. I still had not seen a doctor of any kind but was promised that one would be there as soon as it was time to deliver. They increased the pitocin every 10 minutes. My contractions became more intense. I had new nurses who I once again had to explain that just because everyone in this maternity ward seemed to think that they had to howl like maniacs because they were in pain, didn't mean that I had to do the same. They decided that because of my previous c-section they would do internal monitors. WORST PAIN EVER! It took forever for them to insert the first one. Then it came off because it wasn't put on right, at which point I was informed that the person putting it on me was a STUDENT! and the actual midwife would apply it the second time. It took her a split second. Why did they torture me? I understand students need experience, but not on me...ok? Then I was confined to the bed in a certain way...I couldn't even sit up straight through my contractions...please, tell me how this is different than America? More natural? Pffft. Anyway, I wasn't sure I could endure the pain anymore so I asked for an epidural. I was denied that. Not because I was dilated or not dilated, but because there was no doctor available to give it to me. Warning bells started sounding. The contractions were getting unbearable and riding the pain wasn't as easy as in the past because of the pitocin they had pumped into me. And I was tired. They offered to give me some other drug that could be administered through IV, but I would have to time it along with the contractions and it would only last for 30 seconds. Well, we never got the timing right, it didn't seem to help at all, so we gave up on that. It was too tricky and pretty worthless. I had to ride out the pain. Darn! No epidural again! David was very caring and gentle. Oh, and I forgot to mention! They let me eat food! That was kind of awesome. In the states it is forbidden. I assume because it is best not to have anything in case of an emergency surgery...but heh...that wouldn't be a problem at this hospital since there didn't seem to ever be any doctors! So, I ate some crackers. And had some ice. And drank some juice.
It was wonderful to be able to do that. At some point the contractions were getting really intense and I told the nurses that it was close to time and that the baby was coming and that I needed a doctor. They blew me off and said it wasn't time without even really checking me. They went away.
I tried to remain calm and ride the waves of the contractions.
At this point time slowed down just enough for me to spend a few minutes thinking about my grandmother and how she must be with me. I could feel her presence. This was her birthday, this was my birthday and now this would be my son's birthday. How special this day has always been, but not after her death. I didn't think it would be special ever again...and now she had orchestrated a wonderful gift for me. I could just imagine her moving heaven and earth and lining them up so precisely to give me this one gift of love. She did it. I knew that she had...and I knew she was there with me.
The pain and contractions increased and I called the nurses back in and told them it was time. They again said it wasn't and that they would be back. Just as they were walking out the door something inside my body felt like it was bursting. I said "either I have ruptured and am dying or that is the baby's head!" And they still left me. My mom walked around and sure enough...it was the baby's head. She went out and demanded the nurses come back...but they waved her off. Finally they came back...no doctor. And they very calmly informed me that the babies head had crowned and to not push. Not push! My body was just pushing. But they did something down there and told me I could push. I did. There was no ripping or tearing as in the past. Then they did something else and the baby was out. One push. That is all it took and my beautiful baby boy was being lain on my skin. Because they are really big on skin to skin in the Netherlands. The cord was cut. The after birth delivered and held up for me to see. Then they left. No shots. No inspections. Just time with my baby. Food was brought to me and I was told to eat and then someone would come to give me a shower. In the interim, we cleaned up the baby a little bit, even though they told us not to. Poor thing couldn't open his eyes there was so much gunk! We took some pictures.
Inspected his beauty and decided on a name. A nurse came in (different than before) and informed me that she didn't want to speak english and did she have to? I told her if she wanted me to understand her then she would...I simply didn't have the brain power at the moment. She then stood me up and walked me down the hallway. She was gruff and rude to me. I was in a public shower with no curtain and open access to the viewing of the visitors who were walking the halls to see their loved ones. She tried roughly helping me...I decided to maintain my own dignity and told her that I would not use her help but would rather wash on my own. This shocked her. I wasn't one of those screamers that I could hear echoing through the halls. I wasn't going to allow her to bathe me after she had been so rude. If I was going to shower with people watching, I was going to at least maintain my dignity by doing it all on my own. And I did. When I was finished, she very humbly stated "You are so strong" and was nicer to me from that moment on. Apparently, I had earned her respect. From there I was put in a crowded room with 3 other mothers and their newborns and their families. It was hectic and we were soon released...I was begging at that point to be sent home, I wanted some privacy. In less than 4 hours after giving birth I was home with my little family.
The fact of the matter was that something terrible could have easily happened...I could have lost my life. But that didn't happen. Instead I delivered a beautiful baby boy and recovered from the birth quite easily...easy enough to shower myself almost immediately. It was a strange way to give birth. I'm leaving out a ton of details...but what matters is that the best thing that the Netherlands ever gave me was put in my arms that day...Holland Thomas.
Here is a list of the weird stuff:
You aren't seen regularly for prenatal.
If you get sick during pregnancy, no matter how severe, expect for nothing to be done about it...you are expected to suffer through. Drink tea, they will say!
Even if you deliver in a hospital, it doesn't mean that you will be delivered by a doctor.
If you do get delivered by a doctor, it won't be the same one who saw you throughout your pregnancy or even one that you are allowed to meet ahead of time.
As 'natural' as they claim to be, you will still be hooked up to monitors and strapped to things.
Bring your own hospital clothes. Or you can deliver in the nude like the lady across the hallway...who made sure everyone know she was delivering nude by her screaming and insisting the door was open.
Expect to leave and go home within a few hours.
Find a good Kraamzorg. This is your at home nurse...you probably won't be released right away unless you have one lined up. (although I did have a friend deliver in a different part of the Netherlands who insisted she was American, therefore not a national, who couldn't afford a Kraamzorg, which is provided by the government, and they let her go home, so you can play that angle, but you will have to throw some fits.)
You may be treated poorly by nurses simply because you are American.
You may be given special treatment because they assume if you are American that you are weak.
You may be treated like royalty just because you are a woman.
Expect to be constantly surprised by the treatment...some will be horrid and some will be incredible!
Expect to be treated as if you know nothing about babies even though you have 3 other children.
The Kraamzorg will try and teach you basics like how to bathe a baby or change a diaper and they will have weird rules about it. If you don't follow these rules, then you will be found an unfit parent and they CAN take your kids away. Kraamzorgs are required by the government to be there so that there are less infant deaths due to ignorant parents. They don't understand how you know how to change a diaper if you have never had a Kraamzorg before...ummm...your mother taught you? Unbelievable.
You will have people in and out of your house...Kraamzorgs, midwives, blood technicians, baby doctors...and they don't always make appointments, they just show up.
You will not be allowed out of the house for the first 2 weeks...not even really out of your bedroom.
You will feel like a prisoner.
The doctors have the right to terminate an infants life if it is deemed unfit...if anything were obviously wrong with the baby that is the doctor's right...I told my husband that his sole job after the baby was born was to protect it no matter what! And I meant it. That baby wasn't leaving my side.
The baby won't leave your side. As long as it looks semi normal, that baby is your responsibility from the moment it enters the world. Your husband isn't really expected to do much of anything for you.
Breastfeeding is expected. On day 5 when nothing was coming out, THEN I was allowed to finally supplement.
Be vocal...stand up for what you want. Hindsight and speaking to others taught me that my birth experience could have been much different had I pitched a few fits. The dutch are not known for their softness and gentility. They are a blunt and forward people...you have to be as well. Assert your will. You have to or things will definitely go their way and not yours.
Expect to be served little licorice candies on top of toast in pink or blue depending on the gender of your child. It is a cute tradition...too bad I don't like licorice.
Overall, the experience was good for us. It could have been far, far worse under the circumstances...but it wasn't. For that I am grateful. As a result I have a beautiful baby boy who adores me and is squatting on my dining room table trying to eat some cereal and making a giant mess while watching some cartoon. It is totally cute...and he brings me an incredible amount of joy.
So, thank you, Netherlands. There is no gift on earth better than this gift and it makes up for all of the other bad experiences you gave me while I lived there. I came out on top afterall.
My mom arrived on the afternoon of the 18th. We got her settled and went to bed. I was tired and had been having contractions. I had contractions my entire pregnancy and was on semi bed rest. That meant that if I got up and had contractions then I should lay back down. Just moving caused contractions pretty much the entire pregnancy. Oh well. To be fair, the dr's did give me plenty of ultrasounds and were attentive when I needed them to be...but the dr who saw me throughout the pregnancy didn't deliver babies. Crazy, right? The delivery would be handled by an entirely new team that I had never met before. I ended up in the emergency room with false labor 2 or 3 times so I was hoping that at least one of those dr's would end up being mine because at least they had seen my vagina before and my vagina wouldn't need to meet someone entirely new. Anyway, my C-section was scheduled for the 20th. At around 4 am, on the 19th, I suddenly woke up, sat up startled and my water broke. I have never had my water break before, least of all in my own bed. I was quite alarmed. I said "David, wake up, I think my water just broke" and then the craziness started. He let my mom know, I stood on the floor, he got a towel, I tried wiping it all up with my feet. The water was still gushing. We called the hospital, because you have to call before coming in...it's a rule. If you don't call they won't see you and if you do call and they don't have room, they will tell you to stay home. Not even kidding. I had to answer questions about my contractions and pain level and I was then given permission to come in to the hospital. (But not before the nurse told me I must not be in real labor because I wasn't breathing heavily and then demonstrated how I should be breathing...to which I replied that I didn't deal with pain that way!) I took a shower to ease the pain and wash off the icky sticky. I put on underwear and 4 hospital pads and my favorite yoga pants to labor in or leave in. Then I got in the car. We arrived at the hospital and walked into the back doors since it was so early in the morning. By the time we got there I was leaving a trail of liquid behind me. Nobody told me there would be so much fluid coming out of me! It was crazy! I had to wait awhile before I was ushered into a room where I was informed by the nurse that "this wasn't like america. it is more natural. we don't give you new, clean towels" to which I replied "right, you are not sanitary" and she said "touche!" She was very nice though. They hooked me up to the monitors. I labored for several hours but the contractions were not coming consistently so they decided to put me on a pitocin drip and rev them up. At this time the nursing staff changed. I still had not seen a doctor of any kind but was promised that one would be there as soon as it was time to deliver. They increased the pitocin every 10 minutes. My contractions became more intense. I had new nurses who I once again had to explain that just because everyone in this maternity ward seemed to think that they had to howl like maniacs because they were in pain, didn't mean that I had to do the same. They decided that because of my previous c-section they would do internal monitors. WORST PAIN EVER! It took forever for them to insert the first one. Then it came off because it wasn't put on right, at which point I was informed that the person putting it on me was a STUDENT! and the actual midwife would apply it the second time. It took her a split second. Why did they torture me? I understand students need experience, but not on me...ok? Then I was confined to the bed in a certain way...I couldn't even sit up straight through my contractions...please, tell me how this is different than America? More natural? Pffft. Anyway, I wasn't sure I could endure the pain anymore so I asked for an epidural. I was denied that. Not because I was dilated or not dilated, but because there was no doctor available to give it to me. Warning bells started sounding. The contractions were getting unbearable and riding the pain wasn't as easy as in the past because of the pitocin they had pumped into me. And I was tired. They offered to give me some other drug that could be administered through IV, but I would have to time it along with the contractions and it would only last for 30 seconds. Well, we never got the timing right, it didn't seem to help at all, so we gave up on that. It was too tricky and pretty worthless. I had to ride out the pain. Darn! No epidural again! David was very caring and gentle. Oh, and I forgot to mention! They let me eat food! That was kind of awesome. In the states it is forbidden. I assume because it is best not to have anything in case of an emergency surgery...but heh...that wouldn't be a problem at this hospital since there didn't seem to ever be any doctors! So, I ate some crackers. And had some ice. And drank some juice.
It was wonderful to be able to do that. At some point the contractions were getting really intense and I told the nurses that it was close to time and that the baby was coming and that I needed a doctor. They blew me off and said it wasn't time without even really checking me. They went away.I tried to remain calm and ride the waves of the contractions.
At this point time slowed down just enough for me to spend a few minutes thinking about my grandmother and how she must be with me. I could feel her presence. This was her birthday, this was my birthday and now this would be my son's birthday. How special this day has always been, but not after her death. I didn't think it would be special ever again...and now she had orchestrated a wonderful gift for me. I could just imagine her moving heaven and earth and lining them up so precisely to give me this one gift of love. She did it. I knew that she had...and I knew she was there with me.
The pain and contractions increased and I called the nurses back in and told them it was time. They again said it wasn't and that they would be back. Just as they were walking out the door something inside my body felt like it was bursting. I said "either I have ruptured and am dying or that is the baby's head!" And they still left me. My mom walked around and sure enough...it was the baby's head. She went out and demanded the nurses come back...but they waved her off. Finally they came back...no doctor. And they very calmly informed me that the babies head had crowned and to not push. Not push! My body was just pushing. But they did something down there and told me I could push. I did. There was no ripping or tearing as in the past. Then they did something else and the baby was out. One push. That is all it took and my beautiful baby boy was being lain on my skin. Because they are really big on skin to skin in the Netherlands. The cord was cut. The after birth delivered and held up for me to see. Then they left. No shots. No inspections. Just time with my baby. Food was brought to me and I was told to eat and then someone would come to give me a shower. In the interim, we cleaned up the baby a little bit, even though they told us not to. Poor thing couldn't open his eyes there was so much gunk! We took some pictures.
Inspected his beauty and decided on a name. A nurse came in (different than before) and informed me that she didn't want to speak english and did she have to? I told her if she wanted me to understand her then she would...I simply didn't have the brain power at the moment. She then stood me up and walked me down the hallway. She was gruff and rude to me. I was in a public shower with no curtain and open access to the viewing of the visitors who were walking the halls to see their loved ones. She tried roughly helping me...I decided to maintain my own dignity and told her that I would not use her help but would rather wash on my own. This shocked her. I wasn't one of those screamers that I could hear echoing through the halls. I wasn't going to allow her to bathe me after she had been so rude. If I was going to shower with people watching, I was going to at least maintain my dignity by doing it all on my own. And I did. When I was finished, she very humbly stated "You are so strong" and was nicer to me from that moment on. Apparently, I had earned her respect. From there I was put in a crowded room with 3 other mothers and their newborns and their families. It was hectic and we were soon released...I was begging at that point to be sent home, I wanted some privacy. In less than 4 hours after giving birth I was home with my little family.
The fact of the matter was that something terrible could have easily happened...I could have lost my life. But that didn't happen. Instead I delivered a beautiful baby boy and recovered from the birth quite easily...easy enough to shower myself almost immediately. It was a strange way to give birth. I'm leaving out a ton of details...but what matters is that the best thing that the Netherlands ever gave me was put in my arms that day...Holland Thomas.
Here is a list of the weird stuff:
You aren't seen regularly for prenatal.
If you get sick during pregnancy, no matter how severe, expect for nothing to be done about it...you are expected to suffer through. Drink tea, they will say!
Even if you deliver in a hospital, it doesn't mean that you will be delivered by a doctor.
If you do get delivered by a doctor, it won't be the same one who saw you throughout your pregnancy or even one that you are allowed to meet ahead of time.
As 'natural' as they claim to be, you will still be hooked up to monitors and strapped to things.
Bring your own hospital clothes. Or you can deliver in the nude like the lady across the hallway...who made sure everyone know she was delivering nude by her screaming and insisting the door was open.
Expect to leave and go home within a few hours.
Find a good Kraamzorg. This is your at home nurse...you probably won't be released right away unless you have one lined up. (although I did have a friend deliver in a different part of the Netherlands who insisted she was American, therefore not a national, who couldn't afford a Kraamzorg, which is provided by the government, and they let her go home, so you can play that angle, but you will have to throw some fits.)
You may be treated poorly by nurses simply because you are American.
You may be given special treatment because they assume if you are American that you are weak.
You may be treated like royalty just because you are a woman.
Expect to be constantly surprised by the treatment...some will be horrid and some will be incredible!
Expect to be treated as if you know nothing about babies even though you have 3 other children.
The Kraamzorg will try and teach you basics like how to bathe a baby or change a diaper and they will have weird rules about it. If you don't follow these rules, then you will be found an unfit parent and they CAN take your kids away. Kraamzorgs are required by the government to be there so that there are less infant deaths due to ignorant parents. They don't understand how you know how to change a diaper if you have never had a Kraamzorg before...ummm...your mother taught you? Unbelievable.
You will have people in and out of your house...Kraamzorgs, midwives, blood technicians, baby doctors...and they don't always make appointments, they just show up.
You will not be allowed out of the house for the first 2 weeks...not even really out of your bedroom.
You will feel like a prisoner.
The doctors have the right to terminate an infants life if it is deemed unfit...if anything were obviously wrong with the baby that is the doctor's right...I told my husband that his sole job after the baby was born was to protect it no matter what! And I meant it. That baby wasn't leaving my side.
The baby won't leave your side. As long as it looks semi normal, that baby is your responsibility from the moment it enters the world. Your husband isn't really expected to do much of anything for you.
Breastfeeding is expected. On day 5 when nothing was coming out, THEN I was allowed to finally supplement.
Be vocal...stand up for what you want. Hindsight and speaking to others taught me that my birth experience could have been much different had I pitched a few fits. The dutch are not known for their softness and gentility. They are a blunt and forward people...you have to be as well. Assert your will. You have to or things will definitely go their way and not yours.
Overall, the experience was good for us. It could have been far, far worse under the circumstances...but it wasn't. For that I am grateful. As a result I have a beautiful baby boy who adores me and is squatting on my dining room table trying to eat some cereal and making a giant mess while watching some cartoon. It is totally cute...and he brings me an incredible amount of joy.
So, thank you, Netherlands. There is no gift on earth better than this gift and it makes up for all of the other bad experiences you gave me while I lived there. I came out on top afterall.
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