ailbhe | And so to sleep (Reply)

Linnea had a mad, wild, exciting day with a whole new fan club, and has only just wound down and gone to sleep.

And I'm thinking about letter-writing. I need to write to the GP practice, about the GP who said that breastfeeding too much is bad for a stomach bug, and about the GP who made me take my bra off for a chest complaint only when I visited him alone, but not when Rob came too, and who didn't offer me a chaperone, and possibly to request that Rob, Linnea and I all be given the same damn' GP, and not the one who makes me cry, either...

And I need to write to the hospital, to find out why I was induced using the drip and not the gel, because I'd heard of people who had inductions and could WALK, and to find out why they don't just introduce a policy that the phrase "I have to examine you" shall henceforth cause uttering ob/gyns and midwives to implode, and to ask why it's apparently ok for medical personnel to walk into a room containing a female patient naked apart from a hospital gown, arms and legs akimbo, stirrupped and strapped, and not even introduce themselves, let alone ask her permission to be there, with a prime view of her public privates.

I need to write a long letter to the hospital - the timeline, and a detailed birth story, and a sheet of questions, and a cover letter, I think. It will need appendices at this rate.

And I need to make my "If I was a stay-at-home-mother you couldn't read this tshirt" tshirt, and see if I can find out how many women I know personally who had traumatic births with healthy babies and were told "Well, the baby's alright, and that's what matters." And who told them - I have a feeling, from half-remembered conversations and from my own family (including in-laws) that it's close family who say it, not distant but well-meaning acquaintances.

And I need to write to Arriva and the people through whom I booked my tickets, about not being allowed onto that train. I'm annoyed about that.