I had my first ultra-sound when I was 20 weeks along, a technology that was not available to my mother, and certainly not available to my grandmother. According to the scan, I was carrying a healthy baby who was thriving well inside of me. At my fifth month check-up I had gained 13 pounds since my previous appointment, which resulted in my being admitted to the hospital for blood work to be preformed around the clock. After about a week stuck in bed at the hospital, it was determined that I had a pregnancy induced insulin intolerance and a special diet would be needed.
Through out the course of my pregnancy, I had quite a few fetal heart monitored stress tests, more blood work, an amniocentesis and a few more ultra-sounds. Three days after my due date, my Doctor decided to induce, patting me on the back and telling me that I had "endured enough". Instead of appealing to my inner strength as a woman, he zoned in on my weakness and stepped up as my savior. I never felt I had a choice in the matter. To me, the perception of being a good mother came from doing what my Doctor said was best for my baby.
By this point in time, the father of the baby (or one other person of choice) was allowed to attend the birth as my labour coach. My mother wanted to attend as well, or at least alternate with my husband when he needed a break, but she was not allowed. She and my father waited outside in the hall for about 16 hours before they saw me. I chose to have my husband in attendance because I felt it important that he have the opportunity to see his child be born. He had taken childbirth preparation classes with me, and we had learned Lamaze breathing together, but when it came down to the actual labour, he was very little help to me. He had no idea what I was going through, and no idea of how to help.
