The End of Modesty
When I was in the beginning stage of labor with my first baby I still had the remnants of modesty. My mother-in-law, who I asked to leave the room whenever the doctor came in to examine me, laughed and called to me over her shoulder on the way out of the room that I was going to have to lose my modesty if I wanted to birth that baby. I wasn’t quite sure what she meant at that point.
Fast-forward to when I was far into labor and the contractions were coming fast and furious. At one point I had about three different tubes coming out of my once-private area: a catheter, a fetal monitor, and another tube that I can’t for the life of me remember what it was for. This was in addition to the IV in my arm and the blood pressure cuff on my other arm. It was terribly bizarre, but at that point I didn’t even care. There were doctors and nurses who wouldn’t even introduce themselves to me before checking my cervix.
In the beginning I was really freaked out by this, but by the time I was far into labor all I cared about was getting the baby out of me. This doesn’t mean that you will feel the same way, and by all means you have every right to demand to at least know someone’s name before they help themselves to your cervix. Don’t be surprised, however, if you soon realize that you couldn’t care less what someone’s names or credentials are as long as they’re able to help you get that baby born.