I was four months pregnant when I arrived in Nova Scotia, Canada, to my husband and the father of my child. Coming from Romania, I wasn’t worried, as I thought things must go better in the “Western world” than in an ex-communist country.
Still, my main concern was the elective caesarean section. The doctor that supervised my pregnancy in my home country, and whom I trusted, recommended it to me, and for different well-researched reasons, the surgery became my choice, as well. But I worried the Canadians would oppose to my beliefs.
First things first, I needed a family doctor without whom I couldn’t have access to the hospital in Halifax, for the medical appointments I needed, supervision of pregnancy and birth of my child.
The big news came when I was told by the province of Nova Scotia that it will take at least one year to receive a family doctor. I started panicking! I was going to give birth in few months and there were ZERO chances for that to happen at the hospital, let alone having an elective planned surgery!
I started literally begging everywhere on social media, until a hearty person that happened to work at a medical clinic out of the city, took pity on me and accepted me as a patient. I was in!
Later, the specialists considered my baby belly as being too big, so they asked me to come for medical check-ups twice a month and do further investigations. It was perfectly fine with me, considering that in this country, mothers-to-be only do two ultra-sounds for the entire pregnancy. But even though the doctors suspected me of diabetes and noticed I was going to deliver a heavy baby, my elective c-section was yet to be approved. Canada is a country where women have the right to choose but trust me -it wasn’t simple to have it scheduled. At the contrary, I had to give long explanations why I wanted the surgery, was told it’s normal to naturally deliver babies that weigh 11lb (5 kg) and was even mocked for my decision. Once, a nurse said to me that she had never heard of a “more stupid thing to do”. There were hard times for me; it felt like an endless fight for my rights.
Also, I was told that I MAY have gestational diabetes, which made me wonder about these “potential” diagnosis that, whenever I had a medical appointment, were never confirmed to me in writing, signed and stamped by any doctor or nurse. I was surprised to find that, apparently, at this pediatric hospital in Nova Scotia, the assumption of the responsibility for medical diagnosis was almost nonexistent.
Then, following the last ultrasound scan performed to me, the apathetic Dr Melissa B. suddenly informed me, having no emotion or remorse, that my son “was going to have short legs”. I was in shock and asked her “Pardon me??”, and she said “Yes, you heard it right”.
Finally, the day came to be scheduled for the c-section: the doctor was available for the 38th week of my pregnancy. For who doesn’t know, the babies born earlier than 39 weeks, are more likely to need help with their breathing. I respectfully declined the given date, which made the employee of the hospital that called me almost furious, her attitude being as if I should have shown more gratitude for being accepted to have an elective surgery, and told me there may not be other dates available.
My answer was a categorical no -I rather accepted the risks of a natural birth going wrong for me, than my child to be born with health problems.
Luckily, when I was forty weeks pregnant, at nine in the morning, my husband and I were at the hospital waiting to get into the surgery room. But even though I was “scheduled” for the c-section in the morning, our baby boy was born twelve hours later, after the longest and hardest wait of my life.
During the day, I was told few times that, as it was an elective procedure, “I wasn’t a priority”. Also, while waiting, being hungry and dehydrated, I was administrated an IV, which made my body need an urinary catheter that, unfortunately, was removed only eight days later.
After birth, my first question was: “How are his legs?”.
I thank God, my son was all perfect, not only his legs. And because of this reason, since the moment he was born, he was never taken away from me, as he didn't need any medical attention. No resting or break for mommy after the long day, even though I was having excruciating pains.
At the contrary, less than forty hours after the delivery, my family and I were literally kicked out of the hospital, being told that “the maternity unit is in need of available beds”.
But we didn’t fight it - we were happy to go home and start our new life.
Now leaving the past behind, I am grateful I recovered well and my baby is healthy, but I am certain that if I were in Romania, my experience would have gone a lot easier than in Nova Scotia, Canada.
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