It's been awhile since I have pondered life in England. I feel like this is my home and have pretty much accepted the way things are with a general positive attitude. I laughed when the manager of the grocery had never heard of cilantro and asked me how to spell it and what it was used for and then told me, "If we don't carry it, no one does." I laughed when I bought "desiccated coconut" that made me miss my sweet, shredded coconut. I am enjoying the lack of stop signs and minimal stop lights and can cruise around the round-a-bouts with the best of them. I love the girls' school, I'm not as aware of my accent when I talk and so on.
All general positive feelings came to a halt last week when Jon and I visited the ever-coveted Portland Hospital (coveted by the people who use the National Health Service). I'm trying to blame it all on exhaustion and hormones, but my first reaction was, "When can I start crying, and why didn't I go back to America to deliver???" The funny thing is that all the British people I have spoken with were not surprised we had gone private. They knew enough about the American health care system to know that if we had gone with the NHS we would have been very disappointed--it's just a different standard of care. There's a sense of pride that everyone has health care coverage, but there's not anything outstanding about the coverage or the facilities. So, we went private thinking that we would at least be equal with what we had experienced in America. That was my first mistake. But I was willing to go with the flow. Let's just start with my doctor's appointments--and keep in mind that we went up a level of care by going private. At the appointments my blood pressure is taken by the doctor and then he listens to the heartbeat and feels around to make sure there's still a baby and then the rest of the appointment is just talk (sometimes about the baby, but usually not). No internal exam, no weight taken, no urine test, just very simple and casual. For me that was fine--I have a good history of being pregnant, good genes and have felt very healthy throughout the pregnancy. Because UK doctors don't have the fear of being sued by every patient, only the absolutely necessary things are done as opposed to the American doctors who have to administer more tests to cover themselves. Jon thinks that because the doctor's fees are very, very high that there should be more done during the appointments.
For some reason, though, in my head the hospital had higher expectations. You'd think that a hospital that delivers ambassadors' and celebrities' babies would be a beautiful hospital with spa-like rooms. Disappointingly, the hospital is very basic and old looking. The rooms had rust- colored carpets and nothing fancy. There was a private bathroom (thankfully!), a fan on the countertop (maybe that's the "air-conditioning" advertised) and the window was open to the very loud city traffic below (maybe that's the "home from home environment" advertised). All the moms I have spoken with who have delivered in the NHS hospitals think I am spoiled--which admittlingly, I am. I cringe to think of what the non-private hospitals are like. I know that the moms are all in one big room together with their babies, so it's loud with no privacy. They go home within 24 hours just so they can rest. I have always felt like the hospital is my moment of rest before I go home to normal life.
We went to the hospital to meet with a midwife so she could take down our history that we have given who knows how many times (no health professional who I have seen has anything electronic or even forms--it's all just written down on scratch paper!!!). She was a very nice Irish lady, but we left feeling overwhelmed by how much we realized we didn't know. I felt like we had talked to many people and had asked a lot of questions, but a week away from delievering and I was still learning how different the experience was going to be. This may all seem inconsequential, but it felt like a lot to learn all at once. The baby is bathed after I bond with her for at least 6 hours. (My thinking is I can bond with her much better once she is washed clean!) The hospital pediatrician will check her out while we stay there, but all tests and shots are given 5 days after delivery by a midwife who comes to our house. (Pediatricians are seen if a child needs a specialist, but the baby is seen by a midwife at our house for the first week and then I take her to well baby clinics in a small room with all the other moms and the midwife just goes around giving shots.) Seeing that Rachel's congenital hypothyroidism was discovered in the hospital I guess I feel a sense of urgency for the new baby to have her blood tested as soon as possible and on medication quickly if needed. The epidural is a walking epidural (I might like that), the pain medicines are administered a little differently and some other things we discovered which led me to several phone calls the next day with my doctor's office.
Luckily, we found a good little restaurant down the block from the hospital and Jon and I were able to have a nice dinner and try and eat our disappointments away. It's all about expectations, isn't it? I'm calmer now that I have altered my expectations and am once again focusing more on what's the same as opposed to what's different. I do much better when I have low or no expectations. I'll look back on this and have a good laugh, right? because it's not about me being spoiled in luxury and having everything I want and am accustomed to, but is my baby taken care of and healthy? Don't you just want to tell me to get my priorities straight?! :)
