This nursing article analyzes women’s reactions and experiences with a second childbirth following a traumatic first birthing experience. Beck and Watson (2010) state that a successive childbirth could either aide in the healing process or have the potential to re-open old wounds and make healing harder. The research method used was Phenomenology, which used information from 35 women from across the globe. “In phenomenology, researchers ‘‘borrow’’ other individuals’ experiences to better understand the deeper meaning of the phenomenon” (Beck & Watson, 2010, p. 243).…
After keeping me in the hospital for a week to keep an eye on the baby, the doctor admitted me into the William's Rehab Center. 27 weeks have passed and I am now 37 weeks with Calum's child. My mom has been there for me in a very estranged way and barely makes any eye contact. I know that she is hurt that I am not following her dreams, but what can I do about it? Nothing, zilch.…
It was Monday, May 30th, 2011. My family was driving home from a hotel we were staying at in Virginia, after going to Kings Dominion for my birthday day the day before. On the way home, we stopped at a Cracker Barrel for breakfast. During our meal, we got a call from my aunt telling us that my uncle, my mother’s brother, was in the hospital. Only a few days before he had moved back to Guatemala without saying goodbye to me. Once we were back on the road, my mother continued to get phone calls updating us about what was happening down there, as each call came through we all became more and more anxious wait for the answer. Then it came it just wasn't the answer we were hoping for, my mother began pushing on the walls of the car as if they were…
On September 8th 1990, it was a hot sunny day in the city of Cali, Colombia. Temperature around 88°F with very low humidity, normal for that time of year, since the summer was about to begin. A sky full of altocumulus clouds cooled the estimated population of about 1.7 million people ("1990 population estimate for Cali, Colombia."). Among that population there was my mother. Already late for her gynecology appointment, inconveniently causes by a car accident, she would shortly find out when I would be entering the world. The accident turned a 20-minute drive in a 45-minute drive. Rushing into the clinic, as the doctor’s assistant was calling her name, she rapidly was taken to the back to speak with the provider. When the doctor came into the room he calmly said, “I have good news, and bad news”. My mom’s heart already racing she decided to go with the bad news first. “The probability of being a complicated birth is pretty high, which means the surgical team will have to perform a cesarean section instead of a vaginal birth”. My mother relived thinking it would be something much worse she asked the doctor to go ahead with the good news. “The baby will probably be arriving today”. My mom became frantic, “that’s the good news? They might as well both have been bad! My mother panicked, she had nothing ready for the birth, since her first child was not due for another 10 days. Her hormone levels raging at an all time sky high, she shortly began to cry. The doctor and his staff hugged her and reassured her that everything was going to be ok. They quickly rushed her to the hospital where they would have all the equipment in the event that there were any major complications. Once she was all settled in, the operating room staff started to prepare for the birth around 3:15 P.M. The staff thought I was ready to come out, however I took another three hours to make my grand appearance. At 6:23 PM I arrived spreading my arms and legs with a…
At 12:30 at night on June 1, 2015, my life would soon change forever. I was pregnant with my first child and my water had just broken. My mom rushed me to the hospital where I was immediately put in a private room, in the hospital bed where I was about to deliver my first child, a son. He came so quickly (5 & 1/2 hours in total) and I had requested no pain medications and turned it down on several occasions as the medical staff pleaded with me to use it. The pain began to become more and more unbearable, so much so that I honestly felt paralyzed from my waist down. My body was taking over to my surprise and I was just there with my legs in stirrups. They seemed immovable and with the pains coming faster, it is as if they stopped receiving any of the signals my brain was sending to them.…
I was the first baby born on January 4th, 1997 in Lima, Ohio. Then the story began. Growing up I’ve hit a lot of misfortunes and missed out on a lot of opportunities most people had. I’m from a broken home, but a giant ass family. I have four brothers and one older sister, which makes me the baby of the family.…
My mom has always been my biggest inspiration and throughout the years, I’ve learned a lot about what her life was like before and after I came into the picture. However, I’ve never thought to ask her about what her actual experience of bringing me into this world was like. Consequently, I decided to conduct an interview with my mom, Jennifer Lantz, about her experience giving birth to me and then to my sister.…
It was almost 5am on July 17, 1996, when I was rushed to the hospital. I was balled up in the back seat of my mother in laws car, biting down on a towel because the pain was so unbearable. I heard him say “it’s ok baby… ” just as another jolt of pain came. As his voice faded I could feel him rubbing my back, and I tried my best to listen to his voice and forget the pain. It was impossible though, the baby was coming and there was no turning back now.…
My mother and sisters tried to tell me that parenthood would change my life and that it would be hard, but I didn’t know how hard or how my life was about to change. When everybody at the grocery store was staring at me because my son was throwing one of temper tantrums or I had been taking care of a feverish, vomiting baby all night long it was hard to remember that being a parent was a gift. But then I’d see a sleeping, beautiful baby or my son would draw a picture of a giant, smiling, stick-figure mom with a red crayon heart, and then I would remember. I have a…
My Pop-pop was under the deep spell of anesthesia for three days, once he woke up, he was confused and distant. He was delusional, and would say things he later could not remember. I reminisce occasionally, about how my own, loving and gracious Pop-pop couldn’t tell me apart from my cousins and sisters. My Pop-pop would ask my older sisters to bust him out of the hospital, and to take him home. This was a normal occurrence, due to the fact he couldn’t understand that he wasn’t strong enough to leave; if he was strong enough, he’d be out of there within the second. He now states that there was a curtain of blackness all around him, but every once in awhile, my dad face would come into view and he would say, “Dad, I love you” to which my Pop-pop would replied, “ I love you too, Peter”. This was a three month time span of a shared depression for my family and I. Our hearts had a great burden, we were all unsure of the very near…
I was born on February 24, 1995 during the morning as day broke, coming into this world two month before I was expected. An undeveloped baby born 4 pounds 9 ounces, falling out of the normal range for the weight of a newborn. Moreover, I would be born without the sucking sensation, something crucial to a newborn in early development. When I was born my mother would not hold me because of these factors in her fear of losing another child. My brother whom I get part of my name from was diagnosed as stillbirth only after a few hours of having breath inside his body. At any point I should have not survived from mother who would not hold her child, being born premature, being underweight, and having no sucking sensation. It was perseverance that…
On a quiet Sunday morning at Kings Daughters Hospital in Madison, Indiana, I was welcomed into this world via c-section. With my mother completely unconscious, my father was first to hold my whopping nine-pound six-ounce body. I was bald and twenty and a half inches in length. I arrived at 7:57 on January 8, 1999, and the weather was below freezing and snowy. For my mother, giving birth was an occurrence that she never intended to endure. Before my mother had me at the age of thirty nine, she went through multiple abortions. She had never wanted kids, but my father convinced her to…
I was about eleven or twelve at the time. My mother called me into her bedroom. “Khalil, I have breast cancer,” she said. Bewildered, confused and emotionally wounded when she proclaimed that she might not be a part of my life anymore. The announcement of her terminal illness shocked and awed me to a point in which I could not wipe the tears from my face fast enough to see properly. However, this experience not only made me appreciate and value my mother’s existence more, but, it also made me look back at my grandmother’s value, whom was diagnosed with this plague as well. After my mother bared this horrible news, I could not look her in face without breaking down in tears. Without thinking, I quickly dashed towards my room to let my pillows absorb my unrelenting screams. As I calmed the raging storm spiraling in my mind, I soon returned to my mother’s room. When I returned I noticed her expression had not changed at all. As she continued to smile as if nothing went wrong in the world, I could not comprehend how she continued to stay calm and collected in this situation. In addition to being at fault, I…
On the evening of January 14, 2010, I was at a basketball game with my friends. Because my parents were divorced, I planned on my dad picking me up from the game and bringing me home to my moms. After trying for a few minutes to get ahold of my mom before leaving the school, my dad finally arrived. He told me that my mom was at the hospital and that she was in labor. Since we had planned ahead, I knew that he would bring…
After my leg is finally bandaged, of course, everyone had to go to bed. I think my mother would have killed me if she could have gotten away with it. The hate displayed as she looked at me lying in bed with my other three siblings. I told her, “I can’t cover up”. On her way to retire for the evening, standing still staring at me, as I spoke, pure evil pierced that moment. There was no sign she cared, and never articulated a word to me, just a death gaze before she moved on. My mother held a tight relationship with Pam and Cynthia, she talked with them more than me, treating them a great deal better. They sit up at night at the kitchen table or watching Television sharing tales and secrets with each other. This kinship between them and my mother…