Call me who I am

All patients deserve to be treated with respect and dignity and referred to by their correct pronouns

In late May 2021, I gave birth to my son. I remember being beyond excited. I couldn’t wait for the day I would finally get to hold my first child. Now, six months later, I wish it had happened differently. If I had known how I would be treated as a transgender person by the staff at Cape Breton Regional Hospital in Sydney, I would have had my child at home.

After having introduced myself to the staff who would be caring for me, I trusted I would be treated with the same respect given to any other patient. That was not the case. I spent the first few hours after being induced waiting to start labour, getting to know the staff and constantly correcting and reminding them of my correct pronouns and terms. I thought, “They’re doing their best, when this gets hard they will get it right.”

They didn’t.

After a successful induction, it was time to have my baby. I was terrified, but motivated. I was ready to give it all I had. I was ready to put all of my trust into the team in front of me to support and care to the best of their ability. Yet, when I started pushing, all I could hear was “Push Mama, push!” and

“She” and “Her” going around the room.

All of my trust disappeared. My doctor, who had followed me through almost my entire pregnancy and knew very well my gender identity, was the loudest of them all, and I had trusted her the most.

My boyfriend, Austin Campbell, was present, but I had told him I needed him to focus on me. I’ve asked him recently for his input on what happened and here’s what he wanted to say:

“Being a bystander to everything was difficult. It’s rough seeing someone you care about under a ton of stress and pain and knowing there is nothing you can do to relieve it. Constantly hearing my partner being misgendered was icing on the cake. I know the impact it has on them, and every time I heard it, I couldn’t help but cringe or duck my head back. I didn’t want to cause a scene during an already rough time, so I kept my frustrations to myself and just continued to try supporting Rinn to the best of my ability during the birth.”

When my baby was finally born, the nurses took him to the side of the room to check on him. All I wanted was to see my baby and I begged the staff to allow me to. Just before they left the room with him, someone held him up and said, “Here he is! Look baby, there’s Mama!” and the moment was ruined. I had not even held my son yet and the first thing he knew of me was wrong.

The next few days were all the same. Nobody listened and I was constantly misgendered. Anytime I tried to stand up for myself it was blown off, like it didn’t matter. I wanted nothing more than to leave with my child and be done with it.

Unfortunately, that just isn’t the way it works. When I finally returned home, I struggled more than I ever have. Sure, I have been attacked before, spit at, screamed at on the street, etc., for being a transgender person, but this was personal. It was never done by so many people who I had trusted so deeply to care for me.

I am not the first and I won’t be the last to experience this kind of treatment from medical professionals. LGBTQ2+ people are not new, we are not a passing phase. We are human beings and we have been here for centuries. It’s time to stop using excuses and start making progress.

What happened to me was completely avoidable with proper education and thoughtfulness. Those staff lacked both. Cape Breton Regional Hospital, do better for your patients.

I had not even held my son yet and the first thing he knew of me was wrong.

Rinn Carriere is the proud parent of John-Kingston. They live in Cape Breton.