Romanian Birth

While I was pregnant, the question I heard most often was "where will you give birth?" Then, after answering that I'd be having the baby here in Romania, the next question was always "WHY?"

The short answer: Because I was here. Giving birth in America would mean flying there in probably my 8th month of pregnancy. Sound like fun?

We flew to America and back when I was 2-3 months pregnant, and the return trip was the most miserable 30 hours of my life. First, our 10:30 pm flight from Atlanta was delayed by a winter storm (yes, a winter storm in Georgia) AFTER we boarded, so we spent three hours waiting to be de-iced in the middle of the night. That meant we missed our connection in Amsterdam and had a 6-hour layover until the next (actually last) flight to Budapest. So the already long trip was made 9 hours longer. My clothes were already too tight, so I couldn't get comfortable, and I had to use the tiny airplane bathroom at least once every hour. While I was up out of my seat, I tried to walk around and do some inconspicuous stretching to deflate my balloon feet, which would reflate themselves as soon as I sat back down. I was constantly starving, and you know airplane food is delicious and satisfying... Thankfully I didn't have morning sickness, but I was SO TIRED and couldn't sleep, except for one glorious hour in a lounge area in the Amsterdam airport. We ended up getting to Budapest in the late evening, which meant driving home in the icy dark. Overall, it was my worst travel experience ever. Did I really want to risk repeating that with the added joy of an enormous belly and non-stop heartburn? And then have to fly back here with a newborn? NO WAY!

We will meet our baby on this continent, the one we live on, thank you very much.

My doctor works with both the public and private hospital in Timisoara, so when the time came to give birth, I had another choice: be less comfortable in an old building for “free,” or pay a hefty sum for more comfortable conditions and supposedly better treatment. After talking to plenty of women about their experiences, and knowing that it's actually the best public maternity hospital in western Romania, I decided to take my chances with the public hospital.

My doctor’s husband also works in the same clinic/hospital, and he was on call that weekend, so he ended up being the one to deliver baby. He had seen me a couple of times during pregnancy, so I was fine with that.

Now here's the honest truth about my public hospital birth: There were some weird things, but just as many good things.

First, the weird things:

• My husband wasn't in the room when the baby was born. Maybe he could've been, but I didn't ask. He and my sister didn’t even have a comfortable place to wait. At one point the doctor suggested they go to McDonald’s down the road (no hospital cafeterias here).

• The labor and delivery area was not private or intimate at all. There were four beds for women who were in labor, then two delivery rooms that were connected to that room. I had to walk through one of the delivery rooms to get to the operating room. There was a girl having contractions on one of the other beds, but thankfully nobody gave birth for me to witness while I was there! This whole area was obviously old, but clean.

• I got stuck in the bathroom while waiting my turn for surgery. I finally managed to force the door, which had a sign on it reading “DON’T FORCE THE DOOR.” True story.

• After surgery, two strong men lifted me off the operating table onto a gurney, rolled me down the hall, then carried me from the hallway to my bed in the hospital room. Being carried through the hospital by strangers while I couldn't feel my body was a pretty strange sensation. I kept thinking, is this what levetation feels like?

• I shared a hospital room with three other women (weird for me at first, but not a bad thing at all).

• I had to bring some basic hygiene supplies from home. I brought my own bowl and coffee cup, but at least I knew they were clean, so that was fine. I brought my own towel, sanitary pads, disposable bed liners, baby diapers/wipes, and even toilet paper. I also wore my own gowns from home, even during surgery, and had to give the nurses a clean baby outfit every night. Again, that was fine with me because I’m kind of weird about “used” stuff, so I liked knowing everything was clean and new.

• I needed some medical supplies. I hadn't planned for a C-Section, so on the second day the doctor asked for a waterproof bandage from one of the other patients and then sent my husband to the pharmacy for more. I brought an epidural kit for labor pain, which I didn’t end up needing because the anesthesiologist ended up using a different, thinner needle for a spinal block instead. I know the hospital had epidural kits there, so maybe they told me to bring one just to be safe. I mean no woman wants to risk the hospital running out of pain management supplies while she’s giving birth, right?

• Dani needed my ID to get baby’s discharge papers, so we spent an hour frantically searching for my “lost” ID. I had a tiny postpartum hormonal meltdown (one of several during my hospital stay). He finally asked at the front desk if I’d forgotten it there and found out that they apparently kept it in my file when I checked in, which I was aware of at the time. Oops.

• The neonatal doctor was super rude. She was the only person I really felt like was expecting a little extra “attention,” which she did not get from me. Maybe she was just having a bad day. I was, too, so no excuses there. Rude is rude, period.

Not in labor in the labor room. That's my bag of supplies on the bed with me.

The good things:

• I didn't have to bribe anyone for anything. Maybe it would’ve helped that one night nurse give shots a little more gently, and made the neonatal doctor nicer, but whatever. We still got taken care of.

• The operating room was clean and modern. Nothing weird happened there, and that’s really where it mattered most, right?

• My doctor and every other doctor/nurse who assisted him were top notch. I went in pretty nervous, but was completely reassured after I saw how well they treated me.

• The nurses brought me pain medication. They helped me get out of bed. They gave me breastfeeding advice. They let me keep flowers by my bed, even though it was against the rules. Everybody was nice to me (well, almost everybody, but no hard feelings).

• The food was decent, although I don’t think I would’ve cared because I was starving and excited to finally eat without heartburn.

• The hospital room got cleaned and disinfected every day.

• The neonatal nurses were so helpful with breastfeeding, and even showed us how to give baby a bath the night before we went home.

• Baby stayed with me as much as I wanted during the day.

• I had really nice roommates. Obviously nobody wants three strangers in the room 5 minutes after having major surgery/giving birth, but once the inital shock was over, it ended up being a good thing. When you can barely walk, having other people in the room with you is always helpful.

My hospital room. See my pretty flowers from my baby daddy?

There were no official costs, although Dani did pay the guard to let him in before/after visiting hours a few times. The supplies we brought from home added up to less than $100. I’m not sure whether or not I’m allowed to say that we “thanked” the doctor nicely with $300. I wouldn’t want to get him in any trouble, but he really was great, and this is the amount I heard from most people, so that’s what we gave him. But if I’d truly not had any money, I don’t think it would’ve made a difference.

So, overall, I think I would say the good outweighed or at least cancelled out the weird. Someone had told me before that the hospital itself wasn’t as important as the doctor, and I would agree with that. I got in one of the nicer hospital rooms, which I think my doctor may have influenced a little. I was blessed to have good roommates who didn't stink, snore, or steal my chap stick. The Lord was with us and everything was fine.

Was it luxury? No. Was it perfect? No. Would I do it again? Maybe, maybe not.

I just keep thinking, what if I’d gotten in one of those two rooms with SEVEN women instead of four? What if my baby had been underweight and I had to stay with him on the third floor in one of the shabbier rooms? Honestly, it would’ve been uncomfortable, but we would’ve survived. I think the whole thing was worse for Dani than it was for me, which would be the main reason I might consider going private next time. I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Bottom line: I gave birth in a Romanian public hospital, and everything was just fine.

The hospital looks better inside than outside, I promise.