Before going into detail about my and my son's medical problems after childbirth, I'd like to first write about what happened in the hospital the week following delivery. There isn't a lot to add, so it will be brief.
I couldn't go to urinate on my own. Scans showed the bladder was overfull but I couldn't get the message from my brain to make it work. So I was on a cathedar. It was like every single thing bad that happened was minimized. I had to fight for a specialist to come in to see what was wrong with the bladder thing. A urologist came to see me and said it was from childbirth and that the bladder was temporarily "stunned". He forgot to mention "prolapsed" on top of "stunned", which has been noted by other OBYGYNs ever since. At my last check-up, the woman said I should be referred, now, to someone who specialized in this field because I still have problems and they're symptomatic.
Other than that, I was trying to nurse my son but he could only nurse for 5 minutes at a time, I believe, because his head hurt so badly. As a result, because he was always hungry and only able to take in a little bit at a time, he nursed more often than even is even typical. At first though, I think because he was so hurt, he lost a lot of weight and they almost had to put him in a critical care ward if he'd lost one ounce more. He went from 8 lbs, 11 ounces, to losing down to 7 lbs or something. He was also under bilirubin lights for awhile but I felt so sad for him when he was and kept physical contact with him whenever he was lying down there. It was at this time that I first decided to sleep with my baby next to me. I was worried at first that I might roll over on him, but there is something different about being a mother. I was always aware and I realized my sleep was light. He slept far better and seemed happier and content, to be next to me and hear my heartbeat. The nurses kept wanting to roll him away into another room but I refused. They also wanted to give him a bottle and I refused. I was giving him good nutrition.
The other thing they did there, against my wishes, is right after he was born, someone "cleaned" and scrubbed him up. I had done research which showed most eczema and other baby rashes were completely avoidable by leaving the residue on the baby after it came from the womb. Not the blood, but the other stuff. It sounds gross, but the waxy stuff. I didn't care how he looked if it protected his skin better, and I read several medical journals which confirmed it did, as did the WHO people (world health organization). So I put a statement into the record and my backup research so it wouldn't sound weird, into the record, but they ignored it.
They also took my son's photo without my permission, and this upset me greatly. Not only did they take his photo without permission, they downloaded it ONLINE for all to see, along with other babies photos. What is sad too, is that my son looks very unhappy and peaked like he'd been crying. This time, right after delivery, that they first took him from me, out of my presence, was the last time.
After that, I went with my son if he needed to be weighed or checked on. And he felt better about it, I could tell. I was not going to be apart from my baby for any reason and I looked out for him and he held my finger when he was on the scale.
I was happy with my son, until someone, anyone, asked me how the delivery went and then I burst into tears. I wasn't depressed overall, at all, but thinking about what had happened to me and my son was traumatic and made me cry. Stacey was trying to pass off her huge problems, as was Dr. Butler, with the suggestion that I had postpardum depression. If I did, I certaintly never cried when I was out of the hospital and people weren't asking me about the delivery all the time.
After the delivery, I was so exhausted and drawn and needed quiet time with me and my baby. The nurses and everyone kept asking if there was anyone I wanted to call and I said no. I had people to call, but I didn't want to take visitors right away. I needed time with my baby. I think Stacey thought this meant no one would stand by me or defend me. The impression was that I was completely alone. They also acted weird about the fact I didn't name my son immediately. I didn't name him right away because I'd been told he was going to be a girl and I only had girls names picked out. So I needed time to find the right name for my boy. I was extremely happy about him and had zero disappointment that he wasn't a girl. I just loved my baby.
So then a nurse comes to me and tells me there is going to be a social worker to come see me. I knew this wasn't good. I said I didn't ask for a social worker and didn't wish to speak to one--that it was unnecessary. I was told Stacey had "concerns" about my ability to care for my son and then I was threatened, by TWO different nurses, that if I had to see the social worker. One of the nurses, the head nurse, said to me, "The STATE DOES have an interest in your son." She also mentioned "CPS".
I could not believe it. I knew I was being set up for having my son taken from me. So I got out my address book and called a bunch of people from Serve Wenatchee and all of my relatives and told them what was going on. I started getting gifts and flowers and people started signing in to visit. With every new person in, the nurse seemed displeased. It would be more difficult to do something to me and my son if I had support from other people, who could vouch for my state of mind and were there in encouragement.
Then, because they still wanted the social worker to come by, I asked one of the women from Serve Wenatchee, or two of them, to sit in because I knew I was going to need witnesses. In the past, without witnesses, doctors had written all kinds of crazy things into my charts and claimed I said things I never said. So I was going to make sure other people heard what was said and what my responses were.
I believe ONLY because one of the women happened to know the social worker, and because she stood by me and stood up for me, was I spared the removal of my son from me right then and there.
I found out from other nurses, who whispered to me in confidence, that they believed what had happened to me was "not right" and a few pointed out and let me know what my midwife and doctor Butler were saying behind my back. They were saying such bad things that without other support, it would have been inevitable my son would have been taken from me.
I was able to hold onto him until they knew I was actively looking for an attorney in Seattle, for medical malpractice, and obtaining documentation that proved our case, and it was at this time, along with my discovery Christa was bad news for sure, and my attempts to press charges against the FBI guys with the Portland police, that my son and I first began having all of the bizarre things happen to us, and computer problems.
Christa had asked me before, and I've mentioned this, but I'll mention it yet again when it comes to the exact part in the timeline she asked me this, how I would least like to die. She wanted to know what I would fear the most and what I thought would be worst. Drowing? she said, Car accident? Fire? I told her I wasn't afraid of death, but that torture would be bad. And then she asked, What about having your son taken from you? and I told her that despite everyone's attempts to make me sound crazy or drive me crazy, the only thing that I KNEW would land me in a psych ward, would be having my son taken from me or something happening to him. I told her, if anything happened to him, I WOULD finally go nuts.
She got a lot more information about me than that, but I remembered thinking it was strange she was SO interested in this topic. She would confirm things and try to get specific details.
She didn't ask this question, though, until after my son was already born. She did, however, believe I was having a girl and sent me a box of some girl clothing. My parents tried to say she couldn't be against me if she did this. I knew it was just a cover. If my child had been taken from me, the clothes would have gone with, or were meaningless to begin with. It was a small price to pay, a little box of clothing, to appear, outwardly, to be supportive. I already knew things about her, but I just needed more evidence. I didn't want to be wrong.
She had wanted me to name my daughter "Piper" or "Lennox". She really pressed for "Lennox" and I've no idea why. I wasn't going to name my daughter with either of those names.
After I was interviewed by the social worker, everyone left me alone. They were shocked that all of a sudden I had people come out of the woodwork.
My son and I were spared, at that time, and had a very happy year together until our health problems and his removal. There is nothing that will ever break our bond, not even the refusal of Wenatchee CPS to discontinue our phone conversations. Nothing.
I slept with my son and laid down with him until he was asleep for naps, and I always held him nursing or while using a bottle for expressed milk. I sang to him, played with him, and read stories out loud, even when he was very small. I took him out, which he LOVED, and noted he is an extrovert. He is happy and energerized while being outdoors or doing activities and meeting new people. He absolutely loves people and animals and is affectionate and kind. He would also stare at art for a really long time--his concentration powers were extraordinary, and his attention span, for his age. I began keeping records of everything about him, from the day he was born and I proudly passed on his accomplishments, by email, to my mother and to Christa and a few other people.
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