Category: Letter

Mojo Monday ~ The Letter That Needed To Be Written

Michelle Fairchild
Goddess Leonie with her beautiful daughter.

This morning I read a powerful and honest account regarding pregnancy, birthing and post partum depression. It was written by Goddess Leonie and I applaud her bravery in sharing her personal experience.  I believe that it will touch lives and comfort thousands of women who have felt alone or suffered in shame.  You can find her story by clicking here: http://www.goddessguidebook.com/the-goddess-with-post-natal-depression/

I wrote Leonie a private heartfelt letter.  It isn’t one I will share here.  What I can share is that it struck a chord with me. It seriously had me blubbering early this morning, because I can so relate to her story. The pressure of caring for twins was really hard, but adding to that was marriage challenges, low self-esteem and on top of it all trouble in friendship land. I felt so incredibly depressed and so alone for quite some time. 

As I began to do intensive work on myself and my marriage, finding my voice was a part of the journey.  An important step I took was to write to some medical professionals about my birthing experience.  I wasn’t treated the way I needed to be treated and I wanted to speak up because I didn’t want any other women to experience what I did.  I originally posted this back in January of 2009 on my first blog, which started off mainly to be about raising twins.  That post was called “The Letter That Needed To Be Written.”


Today when I awoke my mind was already in the middle of composing a letter. I lay there in the dark listening as the words weaved their way through my mind and to my fingers. I went straight to a journal and began to write in long hand, the words flowing and pouring forth onto the pages. My letter was in regards to a very personal experience, the birth of my children. I am finally sending a letter I feel could have been sent much sooner. I won’t say “should have” because for whatever reason it must not have been time quite yet for me to write this letter. Perhaps this is the right time because I am feeling so much more open to messages from the greater universe and I find synchronicity glittering along this path I am traveling. I wanted to share my letter as I wrote it not just for myself but for all women. I write it for all women who have or will birth a child. Symbolically this letter can also be for anyone who births a painting, a book, a song, a dance…


I share to empower you to speak up when someone has not shown you or your birthing respect and consideration.

Dear Dr. Skipitis,


This letter has been residing in me for a long time. There was a point in time I thought of not writing one at all. Yet just this morning I awoke with the words flying through my head. I hadn’t even been thinking about this for quite a long time. Yet I suddenly felt compelled to write this letter, not just for myself, but for all women who will seek your care or will inadvertently find you are the physician on duty when they arrive to deliver their baby at Mercy Medical Center.


My intent in writing this letter is to share with you an experience I had almost three years ago. You played a role in the experience. I am hopeful that you will really hear me and give thought to the role you play and the impact you can have on the lives of the women you serve. You see I believe that doctors in your position serve in a beautiful way. You are there to help bring new life into this world. You are a witness to a human being’s arrival.


A little less than three years ago I arrived at the Mercy Medical Center with my husband to deliver, not just one baby, but two. I was expecting identical twin daughters. I was 36 weeks along when my water broke. The girls had been growing and developing beautifully according to the many ultrasounds. The estimates of their weights and sizes were right on track.


Early on in my pregnancy there had been a concern that the girls were monoamniotic. This was troubling when we read about the complications that could arise. Fortunately this was ruled out by an advanced ultrasound. We traveled to Sacramento several more times, as our doctor felt it was necessary, due to concerns about twin-to-twin transfusion. Again, fortunately we had no such problem.


Except for my own discomfort throughout the pregnancy, nausea that lasted for months and months, a persistent cough and the swelling, the girls appeared healthy and perfect in their safe first home. As we grew closer to the estimated delivery date the weekly monitoring of the girls heart rates began. I would lay uncomfortably propped up with pillows on a table, wires and monitors strapped to my belly. I couldn’t lay flat and being on my back, even though propped up, was quite uncomfortable. A few times during the monitoring I even experienced painful contractions. Yet this is what was required of me in order to ensure my daughters were healthy and thriving.


You were not my doctor so I had not shared any of this journey with you. It really is a journey. One that changes the contours and map of your body. It is also a journey that affects your mind, spirit and emotions profoundly. Your body is no longer your own. You are sharing it with another human being, in my case, two new human beings. My body was giving them life, feeding them and sustaining them.


While you were not my doctor and did not know me, you were the doctor on duty that night I arrived at the hospital. I learned later that my own doctor, Dr. Mooney, was attempting to celebrate an anniversary that same evening. He would eventually be disturbed with a phone call about me, his patient. He tried to assist from a distance the best he could that night.


When I arrived at the hospital that evening with my husband, bags in tow, I was beginning to feel the first tugs of the contractions. I had been feeling so completely calm ever since my water broke at home on the bathroom floor. I felt prepared. My bags were packed. I had drafted an email to family and friends already. All I had to do was hit send and load up the car.


The nursing staff was incredibly welcoming upon our arrival. I was quickly admitted and we were shown to our room. I changed into a hospital gown, leaving all sense of modesty at the door. The staff efficiently helped me into bed and began placing heart monitors on my belly and wheeled in a portable ultrasound machine.


The ultrasound showed that Baby A – our Maya – was head down and in position for delivery. Baby B – our Aubrey – had been head down for months, but just a few weeks back turned into a transverse position. This being a fairly recent change in positioning my doctor had not talked about what this might mean in regards to delivering.


It is about this point in the story, babies’ heart beats being monitored, me trying to find a more comfortable position, and the contractions beginning to intensify, that I received a phone call from you there in the room. You introduced yourself as the physician on duty and explained you would be delivering my children. The conversation we shared was rather brief so the next part of your message came out rather quickly. You said that you would be performing a c-section. I responded that we had wanted to deliver vaginally. You stated that a c-section was necessary. I asked why we couldn’t still consider a regular delivery. Instead of explaining or speaking to me as if I was an intelligent person you responded that this was the only way you’d deliver the babies. I said I needed to speak with my husband. You added at the end that if we didn’t agree then you’d have to have me removed from the hospital and flown by helicopter to a distant hospital.


I was holding the phone, lying in a bed in a hospital, in a hospital gown, contractions pulling at me more strongly, baby heart monitor beeping and I was calmly registering your statement that if I didn’t agree to a c-section with you that you would have me removed from the hospital.


There was some final statement from you about calling me back in a few minutes to find out our decision. The phone was hung up and I relayed your message to my husband. My husband felt a twinge of fear as he wondered if you really had the power to make such a decision. The idea of his wife being removed from the hospital while in labor with his children was rather terrifying. The staff in the room was listening and hearing what you had said too.


At that point in time the saving grace in this situation was the supportive and caring, truly caring, responses from the medical staff in my room and my husband. I could feel the women in that room circling around me protectively, offering me their strength and support. I was comforted with statements like “You aren’t going anywhere,” “This is your delivery,” and “You have choices.” Their statements were true and I knew it.


The mere idea that a doctor would threaten a patient in labor with twins that she could be removed from the hospital seemed ridiculous. It felt like a scare tactic to get me to do what you wanted, with no discussion or questioning of your opinion. It made me think of the old cliché “My way or the highway.” If I didn’t acquiesce immediately to your orders I needed to hit the road.


I am an intelligent and reasonable person. I needed you to explain to me and I needed you to converse with me. I didn’t need to be ordered around or spoken at.In light of what you had told me the staff made phone calls to other doctors. We awaited another doctor’s call or arrival. In the meantime the babies were still being monitored and my contractions were growing more intense and painful.


When you called back I was focused on what was happening with my body and the babies so my husband took your call. You asked what we had decided. My husband responded that we were waiting to hear from another doctor. You sounded angry on the other end of the phone and asked who was this other doctor that was being called. My husband replied that he didn’t need to tell you that. You again sounded quite angry over the phone and stated that you wouldn’t be our doctor and would not be delivering our babies. My husband told you that he thought that had already been decided.


Not too long after that phone call from you Dr. Pena arrived to speak with us. He was kind, gentle and reasonable. He performed another ultrasound himself to check the babies’positions. I asked him why we couldn’t try for a regular delivery since Maya was head down. I suggested maybe Aubrey would then have room to turn around. Dr. Pena explained he had not heard of that happening in all his years of delivering. He calmly explained the risks. He said that if Maya was the smaller baby and she came out first we ran a risk of trying to deliver Aubrey breech and the vaginal opening not being big enough for her head to come through last. The danger was lack of oxygen and rushing to perform an emergency c-section to save her. He explained all this and shared that he was not comfortable with such a delivery, but there was no ultimatum or orders. He simply said he would give us time to ourselves to talk about it and make our decision.


Upon his departure we had our discussion. While I had hoped for an old fashioned delivery I knew that I had not carried these two beautiful and healthy girls all these months to risk something happening to one of them. We did not want to risk their safety and so we had a nurse let Dr. Pena know we would go forward with the c-section.


The exchange we shared with Dr. Pena is how I felt it should have been from the very beginning. Speak to me reasonably. Don’t just toss out orders. Especially when it comes to something so amazingly intense and personal as the birthing of ones’ children.


The story of course continues without you. Dr. Pena delivered our girls and they were healthy and beautiful. There was a complication with my recovery as I hemorrhaged and a code blue was called. There was a bit of excitement as the hospital staff worked on me to stop the bleeding and save my life. In the end I was okay and I began my recovery. In a few days we went home with our daughters and began the journey of being parents and caretakers.


Family and friends asked us about the delivery. Some of our contacts were with people in the local medical community. When they heard the story of what had been told to us about being removed from the hospital they asked who it was that said such a thing. We told them.


I am insightful and I am willing to consider that anyone can have a bad day or an off night. At one point I wondered if you were having a bad day. I was willing to make an excuse for your treatment of us. I was willing to consider that maybe this was very out of the ordinary for you. Yet, there were several people who heard the story and who either knew you or knew of you, and they gave a knowing smile and a nod of the head. This story did not appear to surprise them.


I trust that you are a good doctor. Perhaps you are even exceptional. I am sure that you have had patients who have liked you and found you to care for them in all the right ways. I have seen you on television in support of public television. In fact that was the first time I ever “saw” you. Seeing that made me think that you must be a thoughtful and caring man. I noticed at the local Kids Kingdom playground your name on a plaque as a donor. It made me think that you must also be a generous person who gives to the community and cares for children and families. I don’t think you are a horrible person from my one experience with you.


What I do still wonder though is how many patients have you treated and spoken to the way you did me that night. How many women have been scared by the threat of being removed from the hospital by you? Perhaps I am the only one. It seems doubtful, but maybe that is the case. Yet if that is the case, what made my particular situation the one where you would say such a thing?


I don’t expect or even want a response from you. You may choose to crumple up this letter and throw it away. Yet I write with the hope that you will stop, listen and really be able to see through a woman’s eyes what it was like to interact with you on a momentous occasion in her life, a night like no other. I write with the hope that you will never speak to another patient the way you spoke to me that night. The women you serve as a doctor deserve more respect and consideration than I was shown that night. I hope that will always be the case for the women you serve in the future.


Sincerely,


Michelle


P.S. I am sharing this letter with my previous physician Dr. Richard Mooney, my delivering physician Dr. Pena and with President/CEO Rick Barnett with Mercy Hospital. I believe it is also important for them to hear this story in hopes that they too will be reminded of the very important role you all play in caring for a patient and providing him or her with respect and understanding, in addition to the best medical care you know how to provide.


Cc: Dr. Richard Mooney
Dr. Jorge Pena
President/CEO Rick Barnett

Mojo Monday ~ Happy 1st Birthday AND Happy Mother’s Day

Michelle Fairchild

Happy Birthday to you!
Happy Birthday to you!
Happy Birthday dear Mojo Monday!
Happy Birthday to you!

Mojo Monday was born in May 2010, so we are celebrating her 1st Birthday today.  She has taught me a number of things during her first year of life.  (Children tend to do that!)  

She taught me that when you have a dream or goal that you need to set aside the time to do the work to reach those dreams and goals.  For example if you want to be a writer you have to write.  Thinking about being a writer or talking about being a writer some day will not move you very far towards your goal.  You have to actually write.

She taught me more about getting my joy from the creating and the journey, not from the responses I get (or don’t get) to what I created or wrote.   There are important lessons to be learned about the importance of internal approval rather than external approval.

She provided wonderful opportunities to meet, interact and get to know better more of the brilliant and creative Cosmic Cowgirls on the Rodeo, where I also post my Mojo Monday discussions.

She showed me that commitment and applied discipline to a regular practice feels good and can build one’s confidence to say “YES” to other opportunities.

Here’s to you Mojo Monday!
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Mojo Monday also has another VERY EXCITING announcement to make.  Starting this month there will a new writer joining me.  I am thrilled that Cosmic Cowgirl Steph Cowling who currently lives in Brooklyn, New York will be bringing her brilliance, wit and wisdom to the weekly campfires.  She and I will be greeting you on alternating weeks.  Steph has been a Sparking leader and also hosts the Wild Women Story Gathering site with fabulous Jenafer Joy.  They are currently leading the group through the book Women Who Run With the Wolves.  If you are interested in joining the reading group check it out here.  She will certainly be bringing us a great deal of thoughtful and inspirational posts in the coming months.

In a book called Naikan: Gratitude, Grace, and the Japanese Art of Self-Reflection by Gregg Krech I came across a phenomenal section on Mother’s Day.  Seeing as how Mother’s Day is on this upcoming Sunday, May 8th I wanted to share with you his wisdom and touching suggestion to write your mom a heartfelt letter of gratitude.  

Before the author gets to his own touching letter he does start at a different end of the spectrum regarding the parental relationship:  “Mother, you never bothered to tell me you loved me. You never loved me for myself.  You just wanted me to fulfill your own unfulfilled dreams.  You weren’t there for me when I needed you.  You only paid attention to me when I got good grades in school.” 

The author continues “These comments are characteristic of those of us who have searched the depths of our souls to get in touch with our anger at our mothers, encouraged by an army of talk-show hosts, authors, recovery programs, and therapists, all helping us take an honest look at our childhoods and then take aim at our moms.  Of course, we’ll take time out on Mother’s Day to send a card, make a phone call, or offer a small gift to the woman, who among other things, brought us into the world.  But this small detail, and many others, are lost or forgotten amidst an array of people and programs who see mom as just another casualty on the road to self-realization and self-esteem.  Of course, mothers aren’t perfect.  They make mistakes.  They make foolish choices.  They act selfishly and lose their temper.  Some of them abandon and abuse their children.  But before we abandon them, it might be wise to review the record. 

My first serious attempt to do that came in 1989 when I spent two weeks at a a Naikan center near Kuwana, Japan, reflecting on my entire life. For more than a day I did nothing but reflect on my relationship with my mother, year by year.  What had she given me during my childhood?  Memories came slowly at first, and were somewhat vague.  But from time to time a vivid image would surface of her making me a bologna and cheese sandwich for my lunch box, or washing my muddy Little League baseball uniform, or sitting down and playing the piano with me.  Some of my reflections on my mom involved calculations: How many times did she change my dirty diapers? How many meals did she cook for me?  How many loads of laundry did she wash?…Much of what is required of mothers is not exciting: laundry, dishes, diapers, sitting on a playground bench and watching your son climb up and own monkey bars.  It is precisely because of the undramatic nature of these services that they are overlooked, forgotten, or taken for granted.  They don’t get discussed in therapy.  They aren’t a common subject of self-help books.  They don’t appear as a central theme in the TV sitcom.  But when we reflect on our lives and our relationships to our moms, it’s essential to remember these acts of service for one very important reason: they happened.

By the time I completed my two-week stay at the Naikan center my relationship with my mom was forever changed.  It’s not that I became a model son or built her a home on the Riviera.  It’s just that my memory was a bit more complete and my image of her was different.  I could rarely talk with her on the phone without remembering some of the excavated memories from Japan.  And those memories included my own mistreatment of her as a child and adolescent.  They included my own ingratitude toward her for what she had done for me.”

“…there was one woman who got me started as a seedling and made sure I was firmly rooted until I could transplant myself.  She deserves to be remembered for all the tedious, unexciting things she did for me.  As my way of honoring your service, Mom, I plan to fold some laundry today.”

What might you do today to honor your mom?

Are you feeling inspired to write her a heartfelt letter for Mother’s Day?  Please share it if you feel inclined to do so.

You could also write her a poem or paint her something. If you create something come back and share a photo.

Here is a scrapbook page that includes a letter to my mom and a sassy photo of the two of us back in the summer of 1996.  It also includes words that I feel describe her.  This particular photo was taken on a day that we had gone to a fair and had our faces painted.  We later went out dancing that night, with our face paint still on I might add. 

A Letter From the Future

Michelle Fairchild

Dear Me,

How ironic that I am writing to you just a couple days away from your 40th birthday. Just imagine – in 40 years you’ll be my age – a whopping 80 years-old.

I am writing to share some thoughts with you. This isn’t advice – because really advice isn’t always worth much. You really just need to trust yourself and your inner intuition. Follow your heart and listen to your gut.

What I want to share first is to take care of your self, so that you can experience the joy of good health for as long as possible. Trust me, you want to be able to still be active and doing things forty years from now. So if you want to be active in your future you need to be active NOW.

I am also going to tell you something you already know, which is that you are in touch with something greater, that something that connects us all. It is a web of magic that permeates the universe. Stay open to new experiences, to magic and special connections. Synchronicity happens because you draw those experiences to you. You are indeed powerful.

Don’t be afraid. Don’t let fear control you. Just stare it down, hop over it, walk by it or smack it out of your way. And failure. Ha! Laugh at that one. It is an illusion. There really is no such thing as failing. In fact what people often discover is the old cliche that when one door closes another does indeed open and what is through that next door is so much better than what you left behind.

What about all your creativity? So what if someone doesn’t like what you write or paint. Ask yourself what it does for you and your spirit. If it brings you joy, a sense of fulfillment or completion, then keep on doing it. Odds are someone else will probably like it too anyways.

Dance more. Don’t be so serious. Laugh, laugh, laugh and then laugh some more. Be happy. Enjoy the ride of life. Always stay in touch with your inner child because she is still in there. Play!!!!!

Trust in this great big amazing swirling spiraling universe and always be open to loving and being loved in return.

If you were to write a letter from your future self at the age of 80 to your current self, what would you write?

Dear Women of the World

Michelle Fairchild

In honor of International Women’s Day which is today ~ March 8th ~ I have written a letter to the women of the world.

Dear Women of the World,

I have only set foot in a small handful of countries on planet earth, yet I am extremely grateful for these opportunities and experiences, as some people never travel beyond their own country’s borders. I have lived in the south of France and studied there and I have been to Paris. I have traveled through Great Britain, Scotland, Ireland, Spain and the Netherlands. My travels have also included Morocco, as well as Mexico and Canada. What I know for certain is that the best experiences weren’t about the museums, monuments or amazing cathedrals. The most memorable moments are about people. My favorite experiences involved interactions with living and breathing people who lived in these countries.

The most important thing I learned from meeting people in other countries is how much alike we all are. There are differences of course and I celebrate these differences. Diversity enriches this world we live in. Yet, while there may be differences in language, religion, customs, clothing, architecture, food, skin color, or the environment, it is so readily apparent that we have much in common. We are made of flesh and bone. We all must eat to survive. We all seek shelter and comforts to make our life more pleasurable. We all seek companionship in one form or another. We all have traditions. We all have some form of art in our culture that enriches our lives. We all appreciate beauty, though our opinions on what is beautiful may vary, for it is true what they say “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

When one realizes and values just how similar we all are it changes the way one looks at the world and feels about what is happening around the world on a global scale. Spending time with families in Morocco, which is a predominantly Muslim country, doesn’t just influence how I view Morocco or Moroccans. It makes me realize that the people I met there could just as easily be just like the people I might meet in Afghanistan, Palestine or Iraq.

The book Three Cups of Tea, about American Greg Mortenson’s experiences building schools for girls and boys in Pakistan and Afghanistan, is an inspirational story and provides a more intimate glimpse into the lives of the people who inhabit these countries. You get to see through the written word how much these people care and how hard they are willing to work to build schools for their children. You see them encouraging and wanting their daughters to get an education for they know the difference it can make to a village.

Whenever I hear the drums of war being beaten by one country or another I want to shout – “Enough! Who will suffer? Who will die? Who will experience loss and pain? We will! Women just like you and I! So will our children, our husbands, our brothers, our sisters, our mothers and our fathers.”

When more of us women recognize that we are more alike than different, that we women are all made of the same flesh and bone, that we all are seeking enough to eat, safe shelter and some comforts, as well as companionship, then we will also see more clearly that we are one. We will understand that what hurts one, hurts another. We will also hopefully see that the successes of one woman is yet another reason for all women to celebrate.

When we recognize that we are one, this is when I believe we, as women, can make an amazing impact in the world. For example when we stand up together and say “Enough of violence and war!” I believe the world will have no choice but to listen. When we stand together against abuse and violence of any kind against women and children, and men too, we will be heard and change will happen. When we stand up against inequality and refuse to accept that women and children be treated as second class citizens we will be heard and change will happen. When we no longer remain quiet and stand by as our children and our husbands head off to war we will be heard and change will happen.

The same will be true when we stand up together and shout out loud about our joys and celebrate together those things that fill our spirits with happiness and our hearts with love. When we stand up together and in unison pronounce, “Hallelujah, Praise Jesus, Praise Mary, Praise Allah, Praise Buddah, Praise the Dalia Lama, Praise the Goddess, Praise Planet Earth, Praise the Universe” or whatever else makes you want to sing and rejoice and makes you feel connected to something greater than yourself, our voices will join together to create beautiful melodies and choruses and we will be heard by the world.

We will be heard and beautiful changes will happen.

Blessings ~ Michelle

International Women’s Day is a global day celebrating the economic, political and social achievements of women past, present and future. In some countries like China, Russia, Vietnam and Bulgaria, IWD is a national holiday. The first IWD was run in 1911. The IWD Global Centenary is in 2011. There are currently 815 IWD events in 54 countries. Visit the official web site for IWD here.

The Letter That Needed To Be Written

Michelle Fairchild

Today when I awoke my mind was already in the middle of composing a letter. I lay there in the dark listening as the words weaved their way through my mind and to my fingers. I went straight to a journal and began to write in long hand, the words flowing and pouring forth onto the pages. My letter was in regards to a very personal experience, the birth of my children. I am finally sending a letter I feel could have been sent much sooner. I won’t say “should have” because for whatever reason it must not have been time quite yet for me to write this letter. Perhaps this is the right time because I am feeling so much more open to messages from the greater universe and I find synchronicity glittering along this path I am traveling. I wanted to share my letter as I wrote it not just for myself but for all women. I write it for all women who have or will birth a child. Symbolically this letter can also be for anyone who births a painting, a book, a song, a dance…

I share to empower you to speak up when someone has not shown you or your birthing respect and consideration.

Dear Dr. Skipitis,

This letter has been residing in me for a long time. There was a point in time I thought of not writing one at all. Yet just this morning I awoke with the words flying through my head. I hadn’t even been thinking about this for quite a long time. Yet I suddenly felt compelled to write this letter, not just for myself, but for all women who will seek your care or will inadvertently find you are the physician on duty when they arrive to deliver their baby at Mercy Medical Center.

My intent in writing this letter is to share with you an experience I had almost three years ago. You played a role in the experience. I am hopeful that you will really hear me and give thought to the role you play and the impact you can have on the lives of the women you serve. You see I believe that doctors in your position serve in a beautiful way. You are there to help bring new life into this world. You are a witness to a human being’s arrival.

A little less than three years ago I arrived at the Mercy Medical Center with my husband to deliver, not just one baby, but two. I was expecting identical twin daughters. I was 36 weeks along when my water broke. The girls had been growing and developing beautifully according to the many ultrasounds. The estimates of their weights and sizes were right on track.

Early on in my pregnancy there had been a concern that the girls were monoamniotic. This was troubling when we read about the complications that could arise. Fortunately this was ruled out by an advanced ultrasound. We traveled to Sacramento several more times, as our doctor felt it was necessary, due to concerns about twin-to-twin transfusion. Again, fortunately we had no such problem.

Except for my own discomfort throughout the pregnancy, nausea that lasted for months and months, a persistent cough and the swelling, the girls appeared healthy and perfect in their safe first home. As we grew closer to the estimated delivery date the weekly monitoring of the girls heart rates began. I would lay uncomfortably propped up with pillows on a table, wires and monitors strapped to my belly. I couldn’t lay flat and being on my back, even though propped up, was quite uncomfortable. A few times during the monitoring I even experienced painful contractions. Yet this is what was required of me in order to ensure my daughters were healthy and thriving.

You were not my doctor so I had not shared any of this journey with you. It really is a journey. One that changes the contours and map of your body. It is also a journey that affects your mind, spirit and emotions profoundly. Your body is no longer your own. You are sharing it with another human being, in my case, two new human beings. My body was giving them life, feeding them and sustaining them.

While you were not my doctor and did not know me, you were the doctor on duty that night I arrived at the hospital. I learned later that my own doctor, Dr. Mooney, was attempting to celebrate an anniversary that same evening. He would eventually be disturbed with a phone call about me, his patient. He tried to assist from a distance the best he could that night.

When I arrived at the hospital that evening with my husband, bags in tow, I was beginning to feel the first tugs of the contractions. I had been feeling so completely calm ever since my water broke at home on the bathroom floor. I felt prepared. My bags were packed. I had drafted an email to family and friends already. All I had to do was hit send and load up the car.

The nursing staff was incredibly welcoming upon our arrival. I was quickly admitted and we were shown to our room. I changed into a hospital gown, leaving all sense of modesty at the door. The staff efficiently helped me into bed and began placing heart monitors on my belly and wheeled in a portable ultrasound machine.

The ultrasound showed that Baby A – our Maya – was head down and in position for delivery. Baby B – our Aubrey – had been head down for months, but just a few weeks back turned into a transverse position. This being a fairly recent change in positioning my doctor had not talked about what this might mean in regards to delivering.

It is about this point in the story, babies’ heart beats being monitored, me trying to find a more comfortable position, and the contractions beginning to intensify, that I received a phone call from you there in the room. You introduced yourself as the physician on duty and explained you would be delivering my children. The conversation we shared was rather brief so the next part of your message came out rather quickly. You said that you would be performing a c-section. I responded that we had wanted to deliver vaginally. You stated that a c-section was necessary. I asked why we couldn’t still consider a regular delivery. Instead of explaining or speaking to me as if I was an intelligent person you responded that this was the only way you’d deliver the babies. I said I needed to speak with my husband. You added at the end that if we didn’t agree then you’d have to have me removed from the hospital and flown by helicopter to a distant hospital.

I was holding the phone, lying in a bed in a hospital, in a hospital gown, contractions pulling at me more strongly, baby heart monitor beeping and I was calmly registering your statement that if I didn’t agree to a c-section with you that you would have me removed from the hospital.

There was some final statement from you about calling me back in a few minutes to find out our decision. The phone was hung up and I relayed your message to my husband. My husband felt a twinge of fear as he wondered if you really had the power to make such a decision. The idea of his wife being removed from the hospital while in labor with his children was rather terrifying. The staff in the room was listening and hearing what you had said too.

At that point in time the saving grace in this situation was the supportive and caring, truly caring, responses from the medical staff in my room and my husband. I could feel the women in that room circling around me protectively, offering me their strength and support. I was comforted with statements like “You aren’t going anywhere,” “This is your delivery,” and “You have choices.” Their statements were true and I knew it.

The mere idea that a doctor would threaten a patient in labor with twins that she could be removed from the hospital seemed ridiculous. It felt like a scare tactic to get me to do what you wanted, with no discussion or questioning of your opinion. It made me think of the old cliché “My way or the highway.” If I didn’t acquiesce immediately to your orders I needed to hit the road.

I am an intelligent and reasonable person. I needed you to explain to me and I needed you to converse with me. I didn’t need to be ordered around or spoken at.

In light of what you had told me the staff made phone calls to other doctors. We awaited another doctor’s call or arrival. In the meantime the babies were still being monitored and my contractions were growing more intense and painful.

When you called back I was focused on what was happening with my body and the babies so my husband took your call. You asked what we had decided. My husband responded that we were waiting to hear from another doctor. You sounded angry on the other end of the phone and asked who was this other doctor that was being called. My husband replied that he didn’t need to tell you that. You again sounded quite angry over the phone and stated that you wouldn’t be our doctor and would not be delivering our babies. My husband told you that he thought that had already been decided.

Not too long after that phone call from you Dr. Pena arrived to speak with us. He was kind, gentle and reasonable. He performed another ultrasound himself to check the babies’positions. I asked him why we couldn’t try for a regular delivery since Maya was head down. I suggested maybe Aubrey would then have room to turn around. Dr. Pena explained he had not heard of that happening in all his years of delivering. He calmly explained the risks. He said that if Maya was the smaller baby and she came out first we ran a risk of trying to deliver Aubrey breech and the vaginal opening not being big enough for her head to come through last. The danger was lack of oxygen and rushing to perform an emergency c-section to save her. He explained all this and shared that he was not comfortable with such a delivery, but there was no ultimatum or orders. He simply said he would give us time to ourselves to talk about it and make our decision.

Upon his departure we had our discussion. While I had hoped for an old fashioned delivery I knew that I had not carried these two beautiful and healthy girls all these months to risk something happening to one of them. We did not want to risk their safety and so we had a nurse let Dr. Pena know we would go forward with the c-section.

The exchange we shared with Dr. Pena is how I felt it should have been from the very beginning. Speak to me reasonably. Don’t just toss out orders. Especially when it comes to something so amazingly intense and personal as the birthing of ones’ children.

The story of course continues without you. Dr. Pena delivered our girls and they were healthy and beautiful. There was a complication with my recovery as I hemorrhaged and a code blue was called. There was a bit of excitement as the hospital staff worked on me to stop the bleeding and save my life. In the end I was okay and I began my recovery. In a few days we went home with our daughters and began the journey of being parents and caretakers.

Family and friends asked us about the delivery. Some of our contacts were with people in the local medical community. When they heard the story of what had been told to us about being removed from the hospital they asked who it was that said such a thing. We told them.

I am insightful and I am willing to consider that anyone can have a bad day or an off night. At one point I wondered if you were having a bad day. I was willing to make an excuse for your treatment of us. I was willing to consider that maybe this was very out of the ordinary for you. Yet, there were several people who heard the story and who either knew you or knew of you, and they gave a knowing smile and a nod of the head. This story did not appear to surprise them.

I trust that you are a good doctor. Perhaps you are even exceptional. I am sure that you have had patients who have liked you and found you to care for them in all the right ways. I have seen you on television in support of public television. In fact that was the first time I ever “saw” you. Seeing that made me think that you must be a thoughtful and caring man. I noticed at the local Kids Kingdom playground your name on a plaque as a donor. It made me think that you must also be a generous person who gives to the community and cares for children and families. I don’t think you are a horrible person from my one experience with you.

What I do still wonder though is how many patients have you treated and spoken to the way you did me that night. How many women have been scared by the threat of being removed from the hospital by you? Perhaps I am the only one. It seems doubtful, but maybe that is the case. Yet if that is the case, what made my particular situation the one where you would say such a thing?

I don’t expect or even want a response from you. You may choose to crumple up this letter and throw it away. Yet I write with the hope that you will stop, listen and really be able to see through a woman’s eyes what it was like to interact with you on a momentous occasion in her life, a night like no other. I write with the hope that you will never speak to another patient the way you spoke to me that night. The women you serve as a doctor deserve more respect and consideration than I was shown that night. I hope that will always be the case for the women you serve in the future.

Sincerely,
Michelle

P.S. I am sharing this letter with my previous physician Dr. Richard Mooney, my delivering physician Dr. Pena and with President/CEO Rick Barnett with Mercy Hospital. I believe it is also important for them to hear this story in hopes that they too will be reminded of the very important role you all play in caring for a patient and providing him or her with respect and understanding, in addition to the best medical care you know how to provide.

Cc: Dr. Richard Mooney
Dr. Jorge Pena
President/CEO Rick Barnett