I saw this picture randomly on my Instagram feed.
I saw me in this. At this point of my life. This is me. And that big airplane? Those are my dreams that I so badly want to make true and really badly want them.
I can. I know. But I just need to heal.
The rain is like the constant barrage of issues pouring down on me.
So this is what happened. 24 May 2019, 9:15 am, my little one came into this world. Finally. I really awaited his arrival and here he is. Thank God. All healthy and fine. And just as I wished he looked like. The long lashes, the deep irises, the big eyes, the thick black hair, the cute nose and chin, the petite lips. Almost just like his dad.
On the other hand, my birth story is another chapter of horror and trauma of my life. I went through a full episode of everything I was fearing.
Maybe it would help me heal my soul if I poured it out. Maybe now the emotions may not be as strong as then when that was happening. I so wanted to pen down then and there but my body failed me.
That Thursday night, I did not sleep well. I slept late. I was so thirsty. I wasn’t supposed to drink water after midnight. I have never been so thirsty ever. Not ever when I have fasted in any Ramadan. I somehow put my jittery self to rest.
Came morning, I woke up by the alarm. The strange nauseated morning feeling overtook me that comes before any big event. I kissed my kids goodbye, grabbed my hospital bag and left for the hospital 6 am in the morning. It was a beautiful drive to the hospital. Sun at the horizon. Red and yellow clouds pasted across the sky. The spring trees in bloom. The slightly cool fresh morning breeze.
We waited outside the Triage room for about 30 minutes. After which I got changed into a gown. Then it began. The poking that takes the life out of me. The giggly nurse juggled to find a vein and poked me in a wrong place. It just left a huge hole on the side of my wrist oozing blood and paining like the middle of hell. Then she found another vein and poked me in there. Excruciating pain is a joke to the feeling I felt. I endured the IV drip. Breathing in and out. Waiting. For an hour till my surgeon appeared. Hubby sat by me. Comforting me, trying to distract my mind.
Then they made me walk to the OR. The OR looked a little comforting. Like a real room. Unlike the butcher shop feeling I got in the Indian ORs. They made me sit on the table and wait. It was so cold, I was shivering like having Parkinson’s. Then the Anesthesia doctor came in. He tried to be as humane and gentle as he could. Piercing 5 cold long needles in my bent back, I screamed my lungs out, calling out for mom. Is death more painful than that? I cried so much it took a whole ten minutes to calm down. My surgeon came in, comforted me with the kindest words ever, the other doctors and nurses cheered me. They then brought hubby into the OR too. It felt wierd for him. But I felt good in his presence. He kept comforting me and talked on various topics to keep my mind busy. He held my hand throughout. Everything from here was painless. All it just felt like they were tugging at my belly. Painless.
And then suddenly I heard the tiny crying voice and instantly my tears of joy began to flow. Hubby got puzzled as to why I stopped speaking mid sentence and begin to cry. Then he heard the cries too. He just got so overjoyed. It was a real treat watching him so extremely happy. He took a picture of our son right out of my belly in my surgeons arms. Then they made him hold our baby for skin to skin comfort. And they finished patching me up.
I was then wheeled into the recovery room. I felt numbness. Nothing more. Nothing less. It was all fine. I spoke to my Mil and then my mom. My nurse was Hoa Zhing. In the recovery room, she took good care of me and the baby, constantly checking on us.
I was supposed to be moved to my ward by 12:30 pm. Hubby wanted to go home for the kids. They would have been awake and hungry by now and maybe a bit sad not finding us home upon waking. They knew we wouldnt be there in the morning. I had explained it to them for weeks prior. But still.
I had this gut feeling that if they take me to the ward I wont get such constant attention by the nurses. So I din’t push the nurse to hurry. I sent hubby home. There wasn’t anything for him to do. The baby was asleep. I was semi drowsy. Then hunger pangs began at 1 pm. I asked her what about lunch? She goes like, Oh I forgot to order it for you! I found that strange but I let it slide. Lunch came around 3 pm. I was as hungry as a horse by then. I had fed the baby and my stomach was dry like the Sahara. After lunch she told me we had to move to our room. I called hubby and we moved.
Hubby and her together moved me onto the room bed. She then checked the baby’s temperature and left. I told her she is a nice nurse and wished she could continue my care in this room too. Hubby sat with me and we chatted for a while. The anesthesia wore off and the true horror pain began to emerge one pinch at a time. Hubby stayed with me for two hours. My aunt then came to see me too. Gifted the baby. Spoke to me for an hour then left. Then it was time for hubby’s lunch and the kids too. I made him hurry back home. The baby fed off me for a good while and then fell asleep on my arm with the IV. I felt my hand would break. The crib was far from me. I couldn’t get up. I kept buzzing for the nurse. But she never came. I really thought my arm would fall off. The syringe was beginning to fill with my blood. The IV got over too. She came after what felt like centuries. That too when the supervisor answered the nurse call, I informed her that I needed a nurse and nobody has come since more than 3 hours.
When Hoa finally turned up, she was in a mad hurry. She told me there were too many patients today and she can’t keep coming each time I buzzed. She grabbed the baby from me, did the check up, gave one injection to him, put him in the crib, checked up on me and left in a hurry. My baby went to sleep. I fell asleep too. In the evening, hubby came back to me again. He kissed the baby and we spoke for a while until Hoa came in again. She checked baby’s temperature and complained he was cold. And that I should feed him every 2 hours. She got mad thay he was wrapped looselyin just 1 blanket. She spoke so rapidly I din’t know what to say. On hindsight, she was the one who wrapped him so loosely and left in that hurry. She had also dropped a syringe case, a bloody gauze and some tissues on my blanket which hubby threw away. I was so numb I couldn’t say anything in my defense. She gave him to me and asked me to go skin to skin to warm him up. Then she left in a hurry.
I fed the baby and kept him on me as long as I could. Then it was my meal time. So hubby placed the baby back in the crib and layered him with blankets.
The night nurse came. She checked the baby’s temperature and got really angry. She said the baby was cold! His glucose level had gone down! He was so sleepy he wasn’t even responding. I had big wad tears in my eyes. She said my baby wasn’t okay. It tore me to hear that. My other two kids were creating a ruckus. Hubby was trying to comfort me and make strong by encouraging words. But nothing was registering in my brain except that something had gone wrong and my baby wasn’t okay.
The nurse, Muskaan, really worked hard in warming my baby. In the meantime hubby had to leave with the kids. It was almost getting close to midnight. My baby wasn’t okay. I was in so much pain. I needed my hubby. I needed my mom. As my hubby hugged me, I broke into uncontrollable sobs and tears. That hurt me on my belly even more, but I din’t care. Then my daughter saw me crying and she began crying too. Seeing that my son started and then hubby. For the sake of everyone I shooed them home. I told hubby go home with the kids. My whole self wanted him with me, but my brain told me the kids need him tonight as it is going to be their first sleep without me in the house.
…… to be continued….