05/26/2025
This happens too commonly.
**Kind, Compassionate Bu****it**
Let me explain—and give you a real example.
A first-time mom, 36 weeks pregnant, heads to her regular appointment. The nurse tells her the doctor wants to do an ultrasound. She wasn’t expecting it, but she’s excited to get another peek at her baby.
During the scan, the doctor says, “Wow, this baby is getting big! We might need to induce you at 39 weeks to avoid injury.”
She’s surprised. She’s heard some not-so-great things about induction but trusts her doctor—surely they know what’s best.
At 37 and 38 weeks, it’s the same story: “Baby’s big.”
At her 39-week appointment, the doctor walks in cheerfully and asks, “Want to meet your baby today?” She says the baby is measuring large and she’s worried about the mom’s “small pelvis.” Still trusting, the mom heads home to pack her bag and returns to the hospital a couple of hours later.
No one has explained any risks. She’s told they’ll begin by ripening her cervix for 12 hours, followed by Pitocin the next day.
She and her partner are excited. They can’t sleep—partly from nerves, partly from the nurse coming in every couple of hours.
The next morning she’s 2–3 cm dilated. They start Pitocin. At first, nothing happens. Then the contractions kick in—hard. The dose has been increased every 15 minutes. She’s now got one IV line, two monitors strapped to her belly, and she’s stuck in bed—no one told her that continuous monitoring is required with induction.
She adjusts her expectations.
The contractions become relentless—no break between them—so the nurse turns the dose down. They slow, but not enough. The dose goes up again. This cycle repeats until a "good pattern" is achieved.
She’s working hard. Hours pass. Finally, the nurse checks her cervix—no change. She’s crushed.
Still, she continues. What choice does she have now?
It’s been 24 hours. She’s only seen her doctor briefly. She’s exhausted. She’s hungry. No one mentioned that eating isn’t allowed during an induction.
Twelve more hours go by. Multiple nurse and doctor shift changes later, she’s finally 5 cm.
The nurse checks the monitor—concern. They want a better reading on the baby and suggest placing a scalp electrode. That means breaking her water.
Now there’s a wire attached to her baby’s head and strapped to her leg.
Eventually, she asks for an epidural. The Pitocin contractions are too much. Her blood pressure drops. So does the baby’s heart rate. Panic. An oxygen mask goes on. Eventually, things stabilize, but she and her partner are shaken.
The nurse is kind. The new doctor is too. She comes in, full of compassion, explaining that the baby must be stuck in her “small pelvis.” She says, “This isn’t what you wanted, I know. But sometimes we have to do what’s safest for baby.”
Twenty minutes later, an 8 lb 6 oz baby is delivered via C-section. The mom is stunned—he doesn’t even look that big.
What she never knew:
* Induction increases the risk of C-section by 25-45% in first time mothers
* “Big baby” is not a medically supported reason for induction
* It takes nearly 3,700 unnecessary C-sections to prevent **one** case of permanent shoulder dystocia injury
* Induced babies are more likely to experience fetal distress
Her care team was kind, compassionate, and even empathetic. But they fed her **bu****it** every step of the way.
This mom knew something felt off. She went home angry—with **herself**. For not knowing. For trusting.
But **too many** go home believing their provider saved them. They believe their body failed. They never consider that the **interventions themselves** were the problem.
Those of us who *do* know better need to speak up. Loudly. Because this standard of care is not okay.
Induction *can* be a lifesaving tool—**when medically necessary**. But this wasn’t that.
**Edit**: This same mama went on to have three more babies—each one bigger than the first—and all were born vaginally.
