Sunday, May 14, 2017

Dear Midwife Joann Falcon



Dear Midwife Joann Falcon,

I don't know if you remember me but I chose you as my midwife and you failed me. I chose you as a midwife and you mislead me. I chose you as a midwife and I paid you, even bought all the supplies that you suggested. I trusted you and you failed me. Mislead and ignored me. I chose to talk about my Home Birth disaster even after I knew that I would be ridiculed. I took that risk. I just want the world to know I will never stop showing your face. Yes, your face. The face of the midwife that stood me up at my birth and ran after my baby died. Never made a visit, never sent any flowers, and never sent your condolences. I guess you felt like you didn't owe me that. I guess you felt you didn't owe my daughter that but because of that I will never stop talking about you. I will never stop mentioning your name as the midwife from hell. That's exactly what you are. I hope that one day you will consider what you did and how messy you were and still are for still not reaching out to my family. 

Teaming up with  your midwife friends trying to change the blame game. However, you and I know the real story. You took ,my money and ran. You took my daughter's life because you were not there. Your advice was all wrong that night and you never admitted that it was wrong. I will never forget your silence that day. You really knew you fucked up! I remember calling you the next day and you ignored all my phone calls. I remember feeling abandoned, alone , and furious. You failed us and for that I will never stop talking about you. I will never say that you are a good midwife because your character after my babies death was pure disgusting for that I will never stop talking about you.

Your definitely The Midwife From Hell

Sincerely, Dreah Louis

A woman who hired the Midwife From Hell

Friday, May 12, 2017

The Death Photographer

The Death Photographer









Standing in Aminah’s room the door slowly opened and a head peeked through. There
was a Blondie lady standing in between the door smiling asking permission to come in. As
I gave her permission to move forward, she stepped in and shut the large door behind her.
She introduced herself as the nurse photographer. She walked over to me with a camera
around her neck and a bright red folder. She pulled a chair for me to sit down and she sat
loosely on the edge of Aminah’s bed. She began to open the bright red folder and out fell
two pieces of paper in front of me. I had seemed to catch them in thin air before they hit
the floor. Looking up at the nurse while arranging the papers she apologized and moved
on to why she was there.
The nurse photographer standing in front of me stated that she
worked for the hospital and she was there to offer me moments with my daughter
completely free of charge a courtesy of the hospital. I was confused looking at her as if
she was in the wrong room. “Photographer?” I asked, she shook her head and walked
over to the dry erase board in the corner next to the window and wrote her name and
contact information on it. “If you would like to have photos taken please contact me I
would love to capture your moments,” said the photographer. She walked over to the
table on her way out of the door and arranged the papers back in the bright red folder, she
brought the folder over to me and placed them in my hands, turned around and walked
out the door. I stood up and tossed the folder on top of my other belongings in the corner
of the room on the single couch. I found myself taking a deep breath to clear my
thoughts. I eased up out of my seat and walked over to Twin Aminah.
As I stood in front of her, I could not help but notice that her resemblance was not the same of her twin
sister even though they were identical I just did not see the resemblance. It was the
oxygen deprivation and all the medicines the hospital had her doped up on during her
stay. I knew those factors determined her rather sickly appearance. I hated seeing her like
that, so little and helpless. I did not want to leave her alone. My husband was not strong
enough for the visits. I found myself fighting for time with her, for he thought it was a
waste of time because in his mind she was already gone. I was still fighting though. I had
to.Everything in me wanted her to recover. I kept thinking about that photographer.
What was her purpose? What moments was she trying to capture? My baby was sick why
would anyone want to capture a sick baby. My mind began to wonder. I felt as though
she was some type of messenger, a messenger that I did not want to communicate with.
She made me feel uncomfortable when she was around. I did not like or understand her
acquaintance with me. The next time I seen her she was capturing moments before my
baby died. I knew there was something about her.



To be continued……..

Wednesday, May 10, 2017

The Night Nurse

The Night Nurse 


Old, Pale, and Fragile, The Night Nurse introduced herself by writing her name on the white board in Aminah’s room.  She walked right over to Aminah and began her routine vitals check.  She looked up at me and smiled. “How is she doing today?” The night nurse asked. “She is the same as the day before”, I replied. I immediately walked over to twin Akilah crying for milk in her car seat.  I carefully picked Akilah up and out of her car seat and began to playfully bounce her around while pacing the floor of Aminah’s room.  The walking around Aminah’s room was not pleasing twin Akilah’s cries.  Walking over to the single couch sitting in the corner of the room I began to prop Akilah for a feeding.  As I began to pull my breast out to feed, I noticed the nurse pulling the curtain surrounding me, allowing me privacy while breast-feeding.  Apart of me felt helpless, unable to feed both of my babies at the same time as I planned to before the birth of them both.  I was feeling disconnected from Aminah.  Our bond was breaking right before my eyes.  I tried to relieve my thoughts my stress.  I noticed the more I worried the less milk my body was able to produce.  Although Aminah was in a bad situation I still breastfed her.  I pumped milk heavily the same milk as Akilah and better yet she deserved what all my children had and that was breast milk. The night nurse would always try to peruse me to just formula feed her.  I refused. The night nurse would constantly commend me for my strength however I considered it my role as a mother.  As I finished feeding twin Akilah I walked over to twin Aminah I noticed she had been sponge cleaned, new onesie, bandages, and her curly hair slicked down.  I thanked the nurse for doing the one job I could not do, give my daughter her first bath.  My heart broke into pieces while holding Twin Akilah.  The night nurse excused herself and told me if I needed anything to give her a buzz.  I smiled; she walked out and shut the door behind her.  Still holding Akilah I walked over to Aminah’s side and ran my fingers through her curly hair, purposely messing up the slick, pressed look the nurse gave her.  I laughed and told Aminah, Does she not know your hair is naturally curly not straight?”  My hands grazed her little arms and fingers.  All the tubes scared me.  All I wanted to do was hold her but that task had to be approved and much help was going to be needed, so, I just stood there and looked at her perfect body wishing she could come home with me. 


The Midwife From Hell

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