Delivering Hope through Medical Negligence…
You know, I really don’t want to go there…but I will. I will if it will help even one other woman, child, family. It brings forth unspeakable emotions even before I can see the words in black and white on my screen. It brings forth a pain hidden, now once more exposed…raw.
A question was asked of Still Standing’s readers on the Facebook page recently. It was along the lines of what articles and topics one would like to see addressed. My heart paused. And then it broke as it has broken many times before. Medical negligence. Forcep trauma. Premature Rupture of Membranes. Words that cut through me like a knife.
Hannah was born in an Emergency Room. In a closet. In a corner. Horrendously. But in the truest truths of my heart, “birthing” her is a difficult term to describe what happened. It was not my body naturally contracting and balancing with hers, working together to bring this beautiful piece of Heaven onto Earth. No. It was not that way at all.
An infection. A placental abruption. My water breaking just shy of 19 weeks. An ER doctor’s first words. “Why did you come here? Don’t you know we have no Labor & Delivery?”
The ambulance. The medications. The disregard. The emptiness, stillness, silence.
No ultrasound. When did she die? I saw her alive hours before. Was she still alive?
Hours of nothing. Of waiting. Of building scenarios and fears. Of staring at the ceiling. Of looking for hope.
And then they were ready. THEY were ready to bring my daughter into this world.
She is not coming out. Is it really her time? Should they be transferring me? Is this REALLY the help we need?
I watch her cold, gloved hands move towards the top of my abdomen. She does the pushing. The doctor. She pushes and pushes and all I can do is cry. It hurts.
I hear her ask for the forceps as SHE continues to “birth” MY daughter.
She’s pushing on me. She’s pulling on Hannah.
A tear left from the gruesome device they dragged her out of me with.
I can’t go much further with this. The nightmares and questions are somewhat safely packed away, I suppose. What I can tell you is it will never happen there again.
I made sure of that. I HAD to.
First Correspondence from Hospital
Second Correspondence from Hospital
Delivering Hope for Hannah was a memory box and bereavement care binder program I created shortly after losing Hannah. All hospitals in my state of New Jersey without Labor and Delivery were each provided with a care package and Hannah’s story.