The delivery saga
April 14th 2010 06:08
As I walked into the labor room the doctor pointed to a nurse and asked me to follow her. Into a tiny closet we went and the nurse began digging into a pile of maternity hospital wear looking for an appropriate size that would fit me. Being on the large side, finding the proper sized clothes for me wasn’t an easy job for her. Although the top fit perfectly, the pajama’s had a tendency to slip with every step I took. I found myself hanging onto them for dear life every time I got in and out of a bed or a chair or as I hobbled along from one room to another waiting in line for tests that were to be conducted. After being administered the medicine to induce labor, going through a series of examinations and fetal monitoring, I was banished to my room where I was to haunt the floor like an old wandering ghost to assist the contractions come along faster.
My mother sat on the couch making small conversation as I waddled around from one end of the room to the next holding my pajamas. Every time I sat down to rest, a doctor walked in and mused out loud whether I had been walking previously or not. Is it unnatural to see a pregnant woman in labor resting? Or was it simply that size was an indicator of motivation? Since I was big, I had no motivation to walk? How many times have we been told or learnt from our own experiences that one should never judge a book by its cover? And yet, here was a hospital full of doctors that were ready to tag me as a lazy bones kind of person just because I was big.
Anyway, in and out of the labor room we went for the rest of the day. To be honest, I didn’t mind the trips to the labor room at all. Every trip gave me an opportunity to check up on this woman who was certainly in labor in the bed beside mine. I figured, if I saw what she was going through I would be more prepared for what I would have to go through. As the day progressed, I couldn’t help but be amazed. On the one hand, I came to the hospital with a fear of delivery, images of screaming women in my head full with horror stories. On the other hand, was this woman who was simply, sleeping. Yes, that’s all she did. She slept right through the whole thing. They had her on medication to help move the contractions and she did feel some discomfort with each passing contraction but other than that she was... calm, quiet, and at ease.
By the end of the day, she was ready to deliver. They got her on her feet rushed her to the adjacent room and yes, I heard the doctors asking her to push. Within 5 minutes, she was done and without so much as one whimper. No screaming, no howling, no fainting husband. All done in 5 minutes and not a soul had been disturbed. I wondered why women had made such a fuss for... well eternity…
By the end of the day however, I was not ready to deliver. We were still where we were when we had arrived in the morning. 3 centimeters dilated and the baby’s head no where near the birthing position. Three different labor medications had been administered and all three had failed. The contractions were about 15 to 20 minutes apart and felt like nothing more than minor period cramping. Was I doomed to go through this for another day? Or two? God help me, I certainly couldn’t. We’ve of course established that pain wasn’t a big factor any more. So what in the world was making me so uncomfortable?
More than the pain, it was the embarrassment. Someone one said it perfectly, once you have delivered a baby, you are left with absolutely no dignity at all. It begins to wither away with the nurse that strips you the minute you walk in, to the attendant that shaves your private parts, to the next attendant that gives you enemas as many times as the doctor wishes it, to the next one that swabs you with a foul smelling disinfectant before each intrusive examination, to the next attendant that follows you to the bathroom to make sure you don’t fall down somewhere and no you cannot close the doors! Does it stop there? Oh how I wish. Post delivery, it’s the attendant that comes to check on how much you are bleeding, the several different junior doctors that have to come check on you and decide to conduct the same pelvic and breast examinations.. Did I mention they squeeze you as if you were a cow to check for lactation? Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself here.
Back to the delivery saga, so nowhere near delivery and way past the point where the doctors felt comfortable with results, I was informed that I was scheduled for a c-section at 9 am the next morning. Since they were expecting to deliver through induced labor, breakfast that day at the hospital was my last solid meal. Late at night, when informed of the c-section, meant no more food till post op. Over 24 hours and no food!
The next morning, brought on a sense of excitement. No more labor, no more medicines, no more “might’s”. My baby was coming and it was guaranteed. Just a while longer and my body would be my own again. No more thoughts to what I should and shouldn’t eat, no more thoughts about what is and isn’t best for the baby inside me as well, it wont be inside me any more! No more being told don’t bend down to pick up objects, no more being told you cannot sit with your legs crossed, or not stand like that, or not have a reason to not sleep on my tummy! It had been eight months since I had last slept on my tummy and that was the first thing I would do when I got home... or so I thought!
So, off we went with the doctors to the OT. Once in it, all I wanted to do was run right out. Everything was this off white color. The OT was empty to look at, except for this narrow bed on which I had to lie down (I honestly though I’d fall of it at some point!) It was cold – exceptionally and bitterly cold. Dressed in maternity wear, I was shivering. Once on the operating bed, the preparations began. The anesthesiologist informed me that he would rub my back with a disinfectant that would be a bit on the cold side. (How much colder could it get, considering I was already shivering?) It was bloody cold. Worse than ice laden water. My teeth were chattering, I was shivering uncontrollably, my head was feeling dizzy, and we had barely started. When the disinfectant was applied for a second time, I felt absolutely nothing but bone chilling cold. Then a slight bit of pressure as the local anesthetic was applied, before the spinal epidural was administered. The only thing I could feel here on was a tingling in my feet.
Quickly quickly I was made to lie down, a sheet put up so that I couldn’t see what the doctors were doing. My top was rolled up to my breasts and the rest of me was open for inspection.. the onlookers were some 15 odd people in the OT ranging from my ob-gyn and her understudies to the anesthesiologist and his understudy to the several peons, the nurses and of course the pediatrician and his understudy! Did we really need so many people in the OT for a simple delivery? Dreading the first cut, I heard the ob-gyn mumble something and then I felt my stomach being pushed to the left and then to the right and then back left. Then to my absolute horror, I heard someone snoring. I looked around with half sleepy eyes wondering who in the OT was sleeping only to quickly realize it was me! I was snoring as loud as a pig with my eyes open.
Somewhere between the cold, the snoring, the ob-gyn’s chatting and the pulling and pushing feeling an attendant came and stood near my head. He put his hands on my chest and pushed really hard. Seconds later, I heard my baby’s first cry. It was out! I was free! After months of wondering whether I was having a boy or girl, I would now finally know. I could not have been happier! I looked to my right where the infant examination table had been set up and saw my baby’s face... all pink, wrinkled, and crying with the annoyance of being rudely pushed out of mommy’s belly, his warm residence for 40 weeks, and a day.
And then I noticed the tears rolling down my cheeks. I could not have been filled with more pride and joy then that moment. I never thought I could do it, but there I was looking at my baby. I had done it, my baby had done it. We were both alive and well and healthy. I heard the pediatrician yell out loud, 3 kilos 800 grams to which my ob-gyn commented, I knew it was a pehalwan (wrestler)! Objecting to the typification, my baby let out a stream of pee that both pediatricians failed to dodge and I thought to myself “sigh... I have a boy!”
Yes, for 9 months and a day, I had hoped and prayed for a girl only to have had a boy. But then, that's a story for another day!
My mother sat on the couch making small conversation as I waddled around from one end of the room to the next holding my pajamas. Every time I sat down to rest, a doctor walked in and mused out loud whether I had been walking previously or not. Is it unnatural to see a pregnant woman in labor resting? Or was it simply that size was an indicator of motivation? Since I was big, I had no motivation to walk? How many times have we been told or learnt from our own experiences that one should never judge a book by its cover? And yet, here was a hospital full of doctors that were ready to tag me as a lazy bones kind of person just because I was big.
Anyway, in and out of the labor room we went for the rest of the day. To be honest, I didn’t mind the trips to the labor room at all. Every trip gave me an opportunity to check up on this woman who was certainly in labor in the bed beside mine. I figured, if I saw what she was going through I would be more prepared for what I would have to go through. As the day progressed, I couldn’t help but be amazed. On the one hand, I came to the hospital with a fear of delivery, images of screaming women in my head full with horror stories. On the other hand, was this woman who was simply, sleeping. Yes, that’s all she did. She slept right through the whole thing. They had her on medication to help move the contractions and she did feel some discomfort with each passing contraction but other than that she was... calm, quiet, and at ease.
By the end of the day, she was ready to deliver. They got her on her feet rushed her to the adjacent room and yes, I heard the doctors asking her to push. Within 5 minutes, she was done and without so much as one whimper. No screaming, no howling, no fainting husband. All done in 5 minutes and not a soul had been disturbed. I wondered why women had made such a fuss for... well eternity…
By the end of the day however, I was not ready to deliver. We were still where we were when we had arrived in the morning. 3 centimeters dilated and the baby’s head no where near the birthing position. Three different labor medications had been administered and all three had failed. The contractions were about 15 to 20 minutes apart and felt like nothing more than minor period cramping. Was I doomed to go through this for another day? Or two? God help me, I certainly couldn’t. We’ve of course established that pain wasn’t a big factor any more. So what in the world was making me so uncomfortable?
More than the pain, it was the embarrassment. Someone one said it perfectly, once you have delivered a baby, you are left with absolutely no dignity at all. It begins to wither away with the nurse that strips you the minute you walk in, to the attendant that shaves your private parts, to the next attendant that gives you enemas as many times as the doctor wishes it, to the next one that swabs you with a foul smelling disinfectant before each intrusive examination, to the next attendant that follows you to the bathroom to make sure you don’t fall down somewhere and no you cannot close the doors! Does it stop there? Oh how I wish. Post delivery, it’s the attendant that comes to check on how much you are bleeding, the several different junior doctors that have to come check on you and decide to conduct the same pelvic and breast examinations.. Did I mention they squeeze you as if you were a cow to check for lactation? Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself here.
Back to the delivery saga, so nowhere near delivery and way past the point where the doctors felt comfortable with results, I was informed that I was scheduled for a c-section at 9 am the next morning. Since they were expecting to deliver through induced labor, breakfast that day at the hospital was my last solid meal. Late at night, when informed of the c-section, meant no more food till post op. Over 24 hours and no food!
The next morning, brought on a sense of excitement. No more labor, no more medicines, no more “might’s”. My baby was coming and it was guaranteed. Just a while longer and my body would be my own again. No more thoughts to what I should and shouldn’t eat, no more thoughts about what is and isn’t best for the baby inside me as well, it wont be inside me any more! No more being told don’t bend down to pick up objects, no more being told you cannot sit with your legs crossed, or not stand like that, or not have a reason to not sleep on my tummy! It had been eight months since I had last slept on my tummy and that was the first thing I would do when I got home... or so I thought!
So, off we went with the doctors to the OT. Once in it, all I wanted to do was run right out. Everything was this off white color. The OT was empty to look at, except for this narrow bed on which I had to lie down (I honestly though I’d fall of it at some point!) It was cold – exceptionally and bitterly cold. Dressed in maternity wear, I was shivering. Once on the operating bed, the preparations began. The anesthesiologist informed me that he would rub my back with a disinfectant that would be a bit on the cold side. (How much colder could it get, considering I was already shivering?) It was bloody cold. Worse than ice laden water. My teeth were chattering, I was shivering uncontrollably, my head was feeling dizzy, and we had barely started. When the disinfectant was applied for a second time, I felt absolutely nothing but bone chilling cold. Then a slight bit of pressure as the local anesthetic was applied, before the spinal epidural was administered. The only thing I could feel here on was a tingling in my feet.
Quickly quickly I was made to lie down, a sheet put up so that I couldn’t see what the doctors were doing. My top was rolled up to my breasts and the rest of me was open for inspection.. the onlookers were some 15 odd people in the OT ranging from my ob-gyn and her understudies to the anesthesiologist and his understudy to the several peons, the nurses and of course the pediatrician and his understudy! Did we really need so many people in the OT for a simple delivery? Dreading the first cut, I heard the ob-gyn mumble something and then I felt my stomach being pushed to the left and then to the right and then back left. Then to my absolute horror, I heard someone snoring. I looked around with half sleepy eyes wondering who in the OT was sleeping only to quickly realize it was me! I was snoring as loud as a pig with my eyes open.
Somewhere between the cold, the snoring, the ob-gyn’s chatting and the pulling and pushing feeling an attendant came and stood near my head. He put his hands on my chest and pushed really hard. Seconds later, I heard my baby’s first cry. It was out! I was free! After months of wondering whether I was having a boy or girl, I would now finally know. I could not have been happier! I looked to my right where the infant examination table had been set up and saw my baby’s face... all pink, wrinkled, and crying with the annoyance of being rudely pushed out of mommy’s belly, his warm residence for 40 weeks, and a day.
And then I noticed the tears rolling down my cheeks. I could not have been filled with more pride and joy then that moment. I never thought I could do it, but there I was looking at my baby. I had done it, my baby had done it. We were both alive and well and healthy. I heard the pediatrician yell out loud, 3 kilos 800 grams to which my ob-gyn commented, I knew it was a pehalwan (wrestler)! Objecting to the typification, my baby let out a stream of pee that both pediatricians failed to dodge and I thought to myself “sigh... I have a boy!”
Yes, for 9 months and a day, I had hoped and prayed for a girl only to have had a boy. But then, that's a story for another day!
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