I am the oldest of four girls. Alley is 18, Shelby is 14, and Gianna is 5. When my first two sisters were born I was only 2 1/2 and 6 years of age; therefore, memories of their births, if any, are few. Due to a blood type difference between my mother and her girls, Shelby and Gianna were both high-risk pregnancies. As a 6 year old, I remember sitting on a rolling hospital bed with my mother as the doctors squeezed blue Ultra Sound goo all over her tummy. Additionally, she underwent many tests which required a lot of long needles. Nevertheless, besides the goo and the shots, I do not remember very much of Shelby being born.
When my mom was pregnant with Gianna, it was the first time I got to experience and remember each phase of the pregnancy from beginning to end. I was 14 years old, turning 15, and was a freshman in high school. I can accurately depict the exact moment and place we were in when my mom first told me that she was going to have a baby. Ever since that wondrous moment, I accompanied my mother to the hospital for checkups and tests.
Throughout the 40-week period, I became very familiar with the inside of a hospital. Even though every visit was an exciting benchmark that distinguished her due date to be closer and closer, I did not look forward to these appointments. Our visits did not have a negative connotation by any means. We were not seeing a dieing patient or even someone to was severely sick. Contrarily, they symbolized new life to come, a feeling that should have evoked happiness. Nevertheless, I was overwhelmed with negative feelings due to the sad atmosphere of the hospital. The combination of smells, sounds, and visual images made me despise each checkup.
On January 2, 2004, Gianna was born. I can illustrate exactly every object in the birthing room, as well as the room's dimensions. My feelings of excitement and overwhelming joy were momentarily blanketed by a swarm of claustrophobia and disgust. I felt as though my mom was about to give birth in a closet or hallway. The room was extremely narrow and long. There was barely any standing room, especially with my the doctor, nurse, my dad, two sisters, and I. I remember finding a seat at the far back of the room by a small window. I was uneasy, nervous, and experienced much anxiety. Of course, my feelings changed when I saw my baby sister for the first time; however, the moments leading up to her birth were all but pleasant.
I had never experienced a birth before, nor do I care to experience one again. My mom was exhausted; however, after a night's rest in a stuffy room, they pushed her out and said, "So long!" The entire process of the birth was beneath my expectations. I pictured a much larger room with couches, blankets, and rocking chairs. Furthermore, the way in which the doctor worked was extremely impersonal and strictly to business. As soon as my mother was rushed in, she was rushed out. There was not any special treatment or "after-birthing room" in which she could rest and recuperate.
My goal in this project is to enlarge the hospital rooms, even if it means less total rooms in the building. Cosmetic changes are only my first stride in this project. I want to improve the bed-side manner of doctors and nurses. Hospitals should not look or be run like a business. They should not be treated like hatcheries or quarantines. Contrarily, they should look and feel like small, personable communities. Not to make the generalization that all doctors are not personable; however, there needs to be less importance placed on the paycheck and turn-around time, and more emphasis on patient comfort. If we can achieve this, we will see vast improvement in attitudes and satisfaction.
When my mom was pregnant with Gianna, it was the first time I got to experience and remember each phase of the pregnancy from beginning to end. I was 14 years old, turning 15, and was a freshman in high school. I can accurately depict the exact moment and place we were in when my mom first told me that she was going to have a baby. Ever since that wondrous moment, I accompanied my mother to the hospital for checkups and tests.
Throughout the 40-week period, I became very familiar with the inside of a hospital. Even though every visit was an exciting benchmark that distinguished her due date to be closer and closer, I did not look forward to these appointments. Our visits did not have a negative connotation by any means. We were not seeing a dieing patient or even someone to was severely sick. Contrarily, they symbolized new life to come, a feeling that should have evoked happiness. Nevertheless, I was overwhelmed with negative feelings due to the sad atmosphere of the hospital. The combination of smells, sounds, and visual images made me despise each checkup.
On January 2, 2004, Gianna was born. I can illustrate exactly every object in the birthing room, as well as the room's dimensions. My feelings of excitement and overwhelming joy were momentarily blanketed by a swarm of claustrophobia and disgust. I felt as though my mom was about to give birth in a closet or hallway. The room was extremely narrow and long. There was barely any standing room, especially with my the doctor, nurse, my dad, two sisters, and I. I remember finding a seat at the far back of the room by a small window. I was uneasy, nervous, and experienced much anxiety. Of course, my feelings changed when I saw my baby sister for the first time; however, the moments leading up to her birth were all but pleasant.
I had never experienced a birth before, nor do I care to experience one again. My mom was exhausted; however, after a night's rest in a stuffy room, they pushed her out and said, "So long!" The entire process of the birth was beneath my expectations. I pictured a much larger room with couches, blankets, and rocking chairs. Furthermore, the way in which the doctor worked was extremely impersonal and strictly to business. As soon as my mother was rushed in, she was rushed out. There was not any special treatment or "after-birthing room" in which she could rest and recuperate.
My goal in this project is to enlarge the hospital rooms, even if it means less total rooms in the building. Cosmetic changes are only my first stride in this project. I want to improve the bed-side manner of doctors and nurses. Hospitals should not look or be run like a business. They should not be treated like hatcheries or quarantines. Contrarily, they should look and feel like small, personable communities. Not to make the generalization that all doctors are not personable; however, there needs to be less importance placed on the paycheck and turn-around time, and more emphasis on patient comfort. If we can achieve this, we will see vast improvement in attitudes and satisfaction.
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