Well, I heard the story last night of how my friend found out that her baby might have Downs. And I am spitting mad.
The baby had the cord wrapped around its neck, causing its heart rate to drop with every contraction. However, they never told my friend this, they just suddenly grabbed the forceps and reached in there like they were trying to get the last olive out of a jar. So that’s issue number one. One second, you’re in labor, the next second, you’re a claw machine someone’s trying to get a prize out of, and you don’t know why. I understand the need for swift action, but couldn’t somebody have said, “we’re doing this because the cord is wrapped around the neck?” What, a nurse couldn’t have spoke up?
That didn’t work, so she had an emergency C-section. While she’s still laid open on the operating table, immediately upon seeing the baby, one doctor says, “Oh, this baby has Downs.” Another doctor looks over and says, “Yep, I’m confirming that. It’s a Downs baby.”
Meanwhile, my poor friend is laying there, confused, groggy, doped up, split open, and hearing that something is irrevocably wrong with her child. Of course, she was crying. She didn’t get to hold her baby until the next day, and naturally she had some bonding issues as to whether she even WANTED to hold the baby at first. What an awful trauma to go through.
Now for the potentially good news. Those doctors had said that the baby had seven out of ten visual markers for Downs. Well, their geneticist came in yesterday and looked at the baby, and he says he disputes four of those markers. So now the baby only has three out of ten visual markers for Downs. So now, nobody knows WHAT to think. They’ll be waiting for the blood test, which they hope to have on Monday. Let’s all keep our fingers crossed.
I cannot imagine a greater insensitivity on the part of the two delivering doctors than to immediately break that news to my friend in that cavalier a manner when she was so traumatized. And they were apparently way off in their assessment anyway, so Jeez Louise! They had just been pulling the baby’s head with forceps so hard that my friend’s husband said he could see muscles straining in the doctor’s arms. Her head is still bruised. You think that might have had something to do with the face looking a little odd? And if not, couldn’t they have waited until they were out of the room to say, “let’s call a geneticist, and I’ll talk with the father about our suspicions?”
My friend is not an object to have a procedure performed on. She is a wonderful woman, and a new mother with all the uncertainy and confusion that moving into that role brings. I swear, if one of those doctors was in front of me, first I’d scold him into submission, then when he was on his knees I’d give him a boot to the head.
My daughter developed a cold last night, so I’ll be watching myself to see if I develop any symptoms. If I don’t, I’ll go see my friend again today. If I run into the doctor in the hall, I’ll smack him, and no jury in the land will convict me.
