At the risk of frightening the life out of young women, it was a nightmare. If nothing else, it shows the power of prayer because without it I doubt I would have survived. Every bit of this is true. I gave birth in 1961 in an NHS maternity home which was previously private. There was no theatre or resident doctor. If you needed surgery you prayed because the nearest hospital was too far away (WGC to ST Albans) apart from a small cottage hospital. I went into labour on a Thursday. Son was born on the Sunday. Most of the time I was unconscious. I remember waking up sometimes and seeing the ward sister sitting by my bed. On another occasion the doctor was examining me and I heard him ask if the waters had broken and they did then! I do not know what day it was because from the Friday to birth Sunday night I had no idea of the time. I just drifted in and out of consciousness throughout the labour. I remember the midwife cutting - and cutting, like a scratch everywhere. She apologised after for cutting me so much but said it was necessary. When he was born he was covered in meconium, yet no special examination was ever performed, They just washed him. I heard no comments as I went off again. I remember them saying he was a long baby.
I stayed in the stirrups for hours - literally and absolutely - because they had to get hold of a doctor to stitch me up. Eventually the doctor came and the stitching took forever or so it seemed. I asked him how many stitches and he said 40 but he did not count the inside ones. I was 20 years old and my first baby and in those days we did not have sex before marriage. I was kept in the hospital 10 days more and the doctor wanted me to stay longer, but I wanted to go home and show my baby off, so home I went.
I was still bleeding of course, that to be expected, but I just went on bleeding for weeks. The GP kept dishing out ergot pills which had absolutely no effect. After six weeks I went back to the maternity home for the post natal appointment. For all I was feeling it might have been a post mortem. They sent me to St Albans General for a D&C to see why I was bleeding so much. I had a room to myself because they let me take the baby with me for feeding. I went to theatre and the result was that half the placenta was left inside. With all the birth problems, they did not check the placenta. After three days I went home. A relative came down to help my husband. I took my baby out in the pram for a walk, not long, and came back to the house, not feeling well. When I got up from the sofa the blood just poured from me. It was so shocking and I was so afraid I would have to go back to the hospital. The GP came immediately and removed blood clots filling the washing up bowl and told me I must stay on the settee and not walk around until it stopped. He sent in the District Midwife who came twice a day, She did not know the history because she remarked on how quickly my stitches were healing and was shocked when I told her the baby was more than 7 weeks old. She came for a week, every day to check and clean me and eventually I was able to go upstairs at night.
I know it was only 12 years since the NHS but it seemed to me that things should have been better. When I watch the 'Call the Midwife' series it brings it all back to me. They certainly knew more then. I think if we had had District Nurses attached to the nursing home in WGC and not just for home births I would have been better served. My next baby was born at home and although it was better, I had a postpartum hemorrhage and my friend dealt with that because the thought of going into hospital was so appalling I would not let her send for the midwife. Luckily that bleeding did not continue more than usual. There was not a hospital in WGC until after son was born. In 1968 when I had my last she was born in hospital where I was for weeks before with pre-eclampsia and toxaemia. I was not even allowed to wash my hands and face,
Horrifying to think now, but they treated the pre-eclampsia with phenobarbitone three times a day. After the birth it stopped abruptly and it was so bad I kept waking up shaking all over. The nurses at that hospital were lovely, and the consultant's wife met my boys from school every day. I just think of the prayers each time.