What was your experience like at the Novokuznetsk Maternity Hospital?

I went in for a scheduled bed rest, but ended up having an emergency C-section at just 33 weeks. The babies were tiny, and I was in shock. It's a miracle they're alive today.

Were you happy with the hospital's communication?

No, I was left in the dark for hours, unsure of my babies' condition. The communication between staff was poor, which made things even more stressful.

How was the hospital's attitude towards patients?

The hospital's attitude towards patients is completely unsympathetic. I felt like just a number, not a person, during my stay.

Did you experience any issues with the hospital's staff?

Yes, I found the staff to be unhelpful and unsympathetic at times. They seemed more interested in following protocol than in helping me as a patient.

What were your thoughts on the hospital's amenities?

I did appreciate the postpartum ward's amenities, like the food and facilities. However, the hospital's overall cleanliness and organization left a lot to be desired.

Did you feel like you were in good hands at the hospital?

I did feel like the hospital's ICU was well-equipped and had skilled staff, which is a plus. However, the hospital's attitude towards patients is what really gets my blood boiling.

How did you feel about the hospital's location?

The hospital's location is convenient, with plenty of parking and easy access. However, the surrounding area is not particularly safe or welcoming.

Would you recommend the Novokuznetsk Maternity Hospital to others?

No, I would not recommend this hospital to anyone. The experience was traumatic, and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.

What would you change about the hospital's policies or procedures?

I would change the hospital's attitude towards patients. They need to prioritize empathy and communication. I would also change the way they handle emergencies. It felt like they were more concerned with following protocol than with saving my babies' lives.

My Horrific Experience at the Novokuznetsk Maternity Hospital

Hello.

This review is probably the toughest I've ever written - it's a raw, honest account.

I've had to wait a long time and go through a lot to become a mom.

My pregnancy was tough. I was carrying twins after IVF, and my belly grew by the hour, not by the day. By five months, I was already walking around with a belly that my friends who were giving birth were only getting at nine months. I had frequent bleeding, and I was on bed rest for most of the pregnancy.

I went to the Novokuznetsk maternity hospital for a scheduled bed rest, but after arriving, I had an emergency C-section because my son had poor blood flow in the umbilical cord according to the ultrasound.

The surgery went smoothly, but to be honest, I don't remember much of it because I was in shock. I wasn't prepared to give birth at 33 weeks. The babies were still too small. It was terrifying thinking about them!

The kids were taken away immediately, and I didn't know anything about their condition for several hours while I was in the ICU after the surgery.

Later that evening, I was moved to the postpartum ward, and finally, I was allowed to see the kids. They were in the neonatal intensive care unit.

When I finally saw the kids, I burst into tears. I didn't scream, I didn't have a breakdown; I just couldn't hold back my tears. I was mentally asking for forgiveness from the kids for not being able to carry them to full term. The twins weighed around 1600 grams. For those who've held newborns, they usually weigh around 3500 grams, and it's intimidating enough. Here, I had tiny skeletons wrapped in skin, with tubes and wires attached to them, with a tube coming out of their mouth, and a strange head shape. Premature babies all have this elongated head shape, like they're from another planet. It's scary. It was very scary.

Let's just say the nurses there were a bit rough around the edges. And to make matters worse, they weren't exactly enthusiastic about their job. When I asked them to teach me how to hold the baby without damaging the tubes and wires, I got a pretty dismissive response. I had to distract them to get their attention. I mean, come on. That's the kind of equipment we're dealing with. It needs to be set up correctly.

When I struggled to feed the baby from the bottle with a teat, they just shrugged and said 'so what?' Like, what's the difference if we feed the baby here or you can't do it at home? It's all the same, apparently.

They only let me see the babies once a day for 15 minutes. I couldn't understand why they didn't let me see them more often, especially when other moms were allowed to feed their babies every three hours. I ended up sitting on those metal chairs near the entrance, trying to be close to the babies without them thinking I'd abandoned them. It was tough, especially when other moms would come in and I wasn't allowed to join them. That week was a real psychological blow.

But then, just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, I got some good news. I was being transferred to this department, and I'd get to be with the babies 24/7. I could learn how to care for them, feed them, and be with them all the time.

A little about the reality on the ground. They put me in a box with a girl who'd had a C-section around the same time as me. We'd met in the recovery room after the surgery, and we'd become friends. We both had premature twins, weighing the same amount as mine. The box was a tiny 8-9 square meters. It had two beds, a changing table, an ancient broken dresser, two machines for the babies, and that was it. The space was incredibly cramped.

There were five boxes in total, separated by a glass partition. Can you imagine the noise level?

One thing that really stood out to me was the sheer number of things we needed to have. I'm talking about everything from bedding to diapers. And let's talk about the diapers – they were actually really interesting. In the hospital, the nurses would give us a bunch of them and then take them back to sterilize. We'd get them back, and it was like they were brand new. We didn't get to keep them, though. The argument was that we had too many kids, so we couldn't possibly use them all up. I mean, I guess that's a fair point. But still, it was weird that we had to get them from our relatives who lived in another city.

Very often, the kids would be lying in this temperature-controlled device.

After they got the hang of regulating their own body temperature, we got moved to these tiny little rooms.

We'd eat in this communal hallway. There was a fridge, and one microwave for the whole floor. We'd bring our own tea kettle, and the food was...well, let's just say it wasn't great. I'm not picky, but I couldn't stomach the cabbage. One time, I accidentally grabbed the mac and cheese thinking it was the mashed potatoes. Can you imagine what that was like? I asked for mashed potatoes, and the lady bringing the food said, 'Oh, those are mac and cheese.' Nice lady, by the way.

And then there was the shower situation...let's just say it was a real challenge. The shower in our department was broken, so we had to make do with this one working faucet. We'd take turns sticking our feet, butts, and...other bits under the water. Not exactly the most pleasant experience, especially with a sliced-up stomach. And to make matters worse, we only got one hour of shower time per day.

I have to admit, I could've dealt with the nurse's blatant rudeness, but not when she was talking about it out loud in front of me, other nurses, and other moms. What's the point of even having a baby if you can't even take care of it?

The nurses themselves were great, I'll give them that. They'd go smoke, and then the whole ward would reek of it. They weren't allowed to eat or sleep together because the kids in the ward without their moms needed constant supervision. But who cares? If they're eating, you can't even approach them, even if the kid needs their nose or eyes cleaned or a diaper change when they're screaming their lungs out. Let them scream some more. Let the world wait while we eat together, because one of us is supposed to be alone, but it's just so boring. At night, they'd sleep like hibernating bears. One would be in the recovery room, and the other would be on a cot in the hallway between the rooms with the kids lying there without their moms. Why take this job if you hate it?

I'm still trying to figure out how the hospital's website can say they're all about humanizing medical care for newborns.

They're supposed to be following this principle of humanizing medical care for newborns

But I'm seriously wondering, do the people working in this department even know about this?

It just got worse. My kids started projectile vomiting, and milk would end up in their mouths and noses, and they'd start choking and couldn't breathe. And it would happen silently, without any noise. They couldn't even cry. I saw it, and so did my neighbor. We told the nurses and doctors about it, and what do you think they did? They just rolled their eyes and told me I was imagining things. They said everything was fine, what was I thinking.

I've been lying awake at night, wondering if my kids are going to suffocate at any moment. The medical staff was completely unhelpful – zero assistance for an entire month. No sleep, unbearable stress, and my mental health was on the brink of collapse. It wasn't until a paid pediatrician told me what was going on after my kids were four months old that I finally understood the issue.

It turned out the 'doctors' had miscalculated the feeding dose based on my kids' weight. The dose was too high, and milk was spilling out everywhere.

I was discharged from the hospital a month after giving birth, when my kids reached 2kg each. Throughout this time, I closely monitored their weight.

I'm only now realizing how lucky I was that both my kids survived this hospital stay!

It's been five years, and I still can't shake off the horror of that experience. It's left a lasting impact on my mental health.