An American Having a Baby in Paris
(part 2 of 3) © by Priscilla Lalisse
The Good, The Bad, and The Hurry
I was only five weeks pregnant and already completely stressed out. The first reason was because my
gynecologist, whom I had become attached to, informed me that she did not
deliver babies. "Well why not?" I asked her. "Aren't you a gynecologist?" She
laughed her affable laugh and said, "Oui, mais c'est comme ça."
(Another French phrase that you have to get used to.) Hmm. So it's like that?
Okay. But she was helpful as usual, and gave me a recommendation to a "great"
clinic. After that, I was still stressed out because she, along with all of my
friends, colleagues, and French family, were urging me of the dire importance
of registering to have my baby immediately. Register? To have a baby? In
Alabama you just head to the nearest hospital whenever it's time. You call the
doctor and he meets you there. That's it. In Paris, everything is
more...well...shall we say, organized?
First of all, you have a choice between hospitals and clinics. I decided to go with a clinic in order to have a more a
personalized service, since this would be my first child. Also, I had heard a
few horror stories about how quickly one can become a mere number in some
hospitals here. I'm aware that that could happen anywhere, in any country, but
still, for me, a clinic was definitely the best choice.
The clinic that I went with is called MaternitéSainte-Félicité, and is located at 37 Rue St.
Lambert in the 15th district of Paris. This maternité is run
by les Petites Soeurs des Maternité Catholiques-in other words, Catholic nuns.
The clinic has been in place since 1990 and is quite reputable in Paris. As
one friend put it, if you were summing it up it in hotel measures, it would be
a four-star.
When I first went there to register, having already been to the Sécurite Sociale to declare my pregnancy,
and having my first ecography as proof that I was indeed pregnant, I was
afraid they wouldn't take me, that I'd be left out in the cold to have my baby
at home. After all, I'm not Catholic either, so I didn't know if that would be
a problem or not. It wasn't. They never even asked the question and the clinic
is open to people of all faiths. The next fear was would they have enough
space for me? Was I already too late? As it turns out, I was even early. I had
to leave the clinic and come back two weeks later. In the end, they accepted
me, and I was officially registered.
The next step was choosing a doctor. If you have your baby at this clinic,
you must choose a doctor from their list. Of course, not knowing any of these
doctors, I called my gynecologist and she recommended a doctor from the list.
Another panic set in. Would he be as nice and as good as my gynecologist?
Well, only time would tell. There was really nothing else that I could do.
Being pregnant is one thing, but I learned that being pregnant in another
country is something altogether different.
It All Happened So Fast
My pregnancy seemed to be over before I knew it. I had stopped working, having the usual six weeks
maternity leave that women receive in France before the baby is born. (In
addition, you receive ten weeks of maternity leave after.) I had walked all
over the Versailles Garden on the weekends for exercise, and in my own
neighborhood's Parc Monceau. I had read all the well-known books that are
available in English-"What to Expect When You're Expecting", "Your Pregnancy
Week By Week". Those books are excellent references, but if you are having a
baby in France, I strongly suggest that you buy at least one French book. That
way, you will have the French system and the vocabulary under your nose.
The book that I found to be the most useful is "Guide Practique de la femme enceinte", by Marie-Claude Delahaye. I
found this book one day while browsing in a FNAC store. The price? Only 7.90
euros and it is worth every centime. In this book you have the usual advice
and evolution of your pregnancy, but it's also filled with social security
information, legal issues and other administrative information that you really
need to have. And as I mentioned, the French medical vocabulary could be an
issue for some, so it's good to know very important words like: péridurale. In
English, it's epidural. Yes, they almost sound the same, but do you really
want to take a chance at not being understood? Not with this word!
Having read all my books and seen the doctor for my last regular visit, in which he chided me a
little bit about my weight, I was totally ready (mentally) to have the baby.
As for the weight thing, in France the doctors advise you to gain between nine
and 12 kilos, that's 19-26 pounds. In America, the doctors are more liberal,
shall we say, and you have the "right" to gain between 30-35 pounds. As I told
my doctor, I'll certainly adopt everything that's great about the French
system, such as the maternity leave, for example. But as for the weight gain,
I have to remain totally American on that one. For me, it seemed and seems
totally reasonable to put on 30 pounds. I mean, with the baby's weight, all
the water retention, the placenta...okay, and also because of the mere fact that
trying to resist delicious French pastries, pregnant or not, is like trying to
convince George Hamilton to stop tanning: It's impossible!
Friday morning, July 12, I called my husband who had just arrived at work and told him to make a
u-turn. It was time to get over to Sainte Félecité, right away. I had called
the clinic and they were expecting me. When we arrived, I saw my doctor for
fifteen minutes, because as it turns out, he was on his way to the south of
France for a holiday, so he called in a replacement, one of his colleagues.
The "new" doctor came in to see me, and was extremely nice. Everyone at the
clinic was. The nuns, nurses, administrative people were all very professional
and smiley. I even had my own private monotrice; a nurse specialized in
deliveries who worked exclusively with me before, during and after the
delivery. The sécurité sociale does not cover the full fee, but again,
her services were well worth it. She got me my périduralemost
speedily, and from that point, all went extremely well with the delivery.
Afterwards, the stay at the clinic was six days, something totally different than the hospitals in
America, in which the average stay is two to three days. The service at the
clinic continued to be good, the staff very friendly and helpful, and they
even had good food. Now when have you ever had good hospital food? I'm here to
tell you that it does indeed exist. The baby and I were surrounded by great
people who really went out of their way to provide us with the best service
possible. While lying there watching Le Tour de France on the television
posted over my bed with the baby sleeping in his little crib beside me, I even
felt good enough to continue rooting for my compatriot, Lance Armstrong.
go to part 3...
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