Bevallen in TerGooi

Bevallen in TerGooi

I want to share the story of my birth at Tergoij so women know what can happen. When I searched for information, all I found were one-line reviews about "good care." This is especially for my non-Dutch sisters, because research indicates that foreign-born women, particularly those from non-Western backgrounds, often experience worse labor and perinatal outcomes in the Netherlands compared to native Dutch women (PMID: 39614200).
I had a perfect pregnancy, a spontaneous labor, and arrived at the hospital when I was already 8 cm dilated. So, everything was perfect.
The ward. There's nothing in the ward for a woman in labor except these uncomfortable beds. There are no exercise balls, no chairs, nothing. All you can do is stand or lie on the bed. You can't even use the shower to ease contraction pain because the light is always on, and you can't maintain warmth-darkness-quiet settings.
Conclusion: find out what the hospital has and demand they bring you everything. They're not cooperative and don't offer or tell you what they have. Or bring an exercise ball and a mat so you can kneel and avoid climbing on that stupid bed every time.
My midwife was Sarphatie-Rommens and the doctor C.H. de Koning.
After several hours of contractions at 8 cm, I requested pain relief. I was denied an epidural, but they offered morphine with the words "you'll get some rest." That's all the midwife said. She explained absolutely nothing about morphine, didn't warn me about the risks, etc. I couldn't wake up on the morphine; it lasted for about an hour and a half after it stopped. I couldn't wake up; between contractions, I'd drift into unconsciousness, unable to speak or stand up for myself. The morphine slowed the contractions, and the midwife used oxytocin. Did anyone mention the risk of slowing contractions with morphine? No
Conclusion: Ladies, avoid morphine; despite what they say, it's quickly cleared from the bloodstream; its effects on the brain linger for quite a while. They might not tell you, as in my case. You won't be able to tell them no if they start doing something you don't want. Looking back, I think they do it on purpose. Under morphine, it's impossible to say, "I don't want to lie on my back," it' was impossible to fight for yourself.
After stopping the morphine, I was already 9 cm dilated, and the midwife told me, "There's no difference between 9 cm and 10 cm, let's push." The baby was still high up and hadn't dropped into the pelvis. I knew what she was saying wasn't appropriate for me, but under the morphine, I was incapable of asserting myself. The midwife didn't explain ANYTHING about pushing; she literally didn't tell me which muscles to use or where to push. I also had to tell you which positions I wanted to use (remember the morphine and the pain from contractions at 9 cm). The midwife only knew one position on the back. She didn't encourage me to try anything else. I felt nothing on my back except pain; it was incredibly difficult.
Conclusion: learn the positions, explain them to your partner so they know too and speak loudly and clearly that you don't want to be on your back. Write in your birth plan that unless there are signs of distress, you don't lie on your back, and that the midwife IS RESPONSIBLE (and she is indeed obligated by professional standards) to tell you how to push and make sure you're doing everything correctly. In my case, she simply expected that a woman in her first labor, on morphine, would know how to push.
Also, write in your birth plan that the midwife is obligated to make sure you hear and understand her. She really is obligated, but she doesn't do it.
The midwife didn't correct my attempts to push in any way. I pushed for two hours, and during those two hours, NO ONE, neither the doctor nor the midwife, even attempted to explain or correct my actions. They simply watched. They gave me morphine without telling me I wouldn't be able to think clearly, they told me to push without telling me how, and they laid me on my back where I felt nothing but pain.
When my attempts to push were deemed "ineffective", they called the doctor. The doctor was useless, offering no explanation whatsoever, making no attempt to explain anything, change my position, or help me in any way. All the doctor did was try to pull my baby with a vacuum, without trying to do anything to prevent it. She didn't explain why the vacuum was needed, not a single word of explanation, just "we'll use a vacuum". Finally, they performed an episiotomy with the words, "We need more space, do you agree?" She didn't even mention the procedure she was going to perform, didn't even try to convey the risk, or that you should just gather all your strength and push like this and that. No, I was just a piece of meat about to give birth, that's all.
After such wonderful care, I developed PTSD, which still hasn't gone away (7 months), and I'm have to undergo therapy. The episiotomy scar bothers me every day.
At the end, the midwife could not even do stitches correctly, and I got some pieces of tissue that are not together, like �V� letter.
My perfect first pregnancy, my first birth, which was going perfectly until I met the midwife and doctor, ended in disaster. I will always remember this experience; my child's birthday will always be associated not with the joy of his arrival, but with horror at the indifference of the medical staff.

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