Mrs Lincoln thought the play was fine, thanks

[ailbhe]

I have recovered considerably since today's earlier entry.

I am beginning to wonder why I don't want to dismember the midwife and/or the obstetrician. I have heard a lot of people who've had traumatic births get very angry with and at their medical staff (um, not their staff specifically, but I'm sure you can figure it out) but I'm not.

While I was pushing without pain relief, I desperately wanted to say to the on-shift midwife "I hope yours is worse," but didn't. I knew she was 28 weeks pregnant. Now I'm really glad I didn't, because, you know, I don't hope that at all. I wish she's been a bit more... motherly, but it's probably hard to be motherly when you're not. I don't know; I have no objective motherliness rating system.

I really do not want to meet the obstetrician again; neither Rob nor I can remember his face or his name, and apart from the fact that I'm going to request not to have him involved in my next birth, which will be a c-section, I never want to know anything else about him. I don't want an apology, I don't want to tell him how angry I am about the situation, and I don't want to hurt him.

Midwives who have babies are far too brave. And I wouldn't gain anything by getting angry at these people. I'm angry at the situation. Which is, in some ways, harder to deal with - I have no target.

While I was in Tescos today I had a moment of sadness, as I do several times an hour, and I looked up to look at Linnea, which is how I usually treat moments of sadness, and she wasn't there. She was at home with her daddy, and I couldn't look at her to make myself happy again.

That was very sad.