Continuation from Part I
3 PM – 3.30 PM
My doctor came in with a smile and said to me “now, are you ready to give birth?” with her gloves on. I was put in the position to give birth; my back upright, my legs on top of the leg lifter thingy, my youknowwhat widely exposed to my doctor, the midwife and two nurses.
And then the pushing started.
I thought dealing with contraction was the hard part. Boy, was I wrong…
PUSHING WAS THE MOST DIFFICULT THING I HAVE HAD TO DO MY ENTIRE LIFE. (Even harder than that time I had to chuck all the clothes in my basket at ZARA because I promised myself not to shop for the entire month.)
Like, there’s a right technique to do it, and believe me, I’ve stocked up on the knowledge on how to perform it. I’ve done a lot of breathing exercise. I even have my own curated breathing pattern all ready! (that goes hee hee, huu huu, haaaaaaa kind of like the ‘uuu eee u a a bing bang walla walla ding dong’ song)
But when you are in that moment, nothing I learned worked! It’s like trying to push an invisible gigantic poo out – it’s neither here nor there. I keep pushing and pushing until I swelled into a huge purple balloon (OK this is an exaggeration, Nazeef said only my face turned purple).
In the midst of it all I decided I had enough and asked everyone meekly, “Can I stop now? Pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. I am so tired. I can’t do it anymore…”
… which was answered by a defiant NO and JANGAN CAKAP TAK BOLEH, NANTI TUHAN MARAH.
Geez, so mean. Was just thinking of taking a quick break obviously…
Anyway I pushed and pushed until Aidan was crowning. Nazeef was shifting positions, looking at the baby crowning and standing right next to me a few times, stammering with delight. “Yes I can see his head! So much of hair! … or is that hair?”
I felt a jolt of alarm, and asked what do you mean is that hair????? What else can it be?
Nazeef squinted apprehensively for a few seconds and continued to hold my hand. “Yes, yes, that’s definitely his hair. Come on sayang, you can do this! Just a little bit more! And then you can sleep all you want!”
But by then I was already so exhausted. I was in such a state – my hair plastered all over my damp forehead, my breath short but heavy as I slump against my pillow, my face as purple as an eggplant… so insanely attractive.
My doctor looked up at me and said, “Do you need my help? I think the baby’s position is a little bit crooked, that’s why you can’t push him out. I’ll help to adjust his position using a vacuum. It will just be very quick.”
My mind obviously cannot process anything. I just wanted it to be over. I looked at Nazeef and nodded limply and silently prayed for Allah to ease everything for me and my son.
I braced myself to push again. When the doctor gave the cue to push, I pushed and not even 0.30 seconds later… shloooooooooooop! (I mean that’s not exactly how it sounded like obviously, but in my brain that’s how it sounded like.)
Out came Aidan, all pink and scrunched up with his tiny fingers and toes, letting out a cry that is not too loud nor too soft. Aidan did not cry a lot, but as long as he was fine, I was okay with it.
I was too dazed to do anything at that moment and I was honestly about to slip into a deep slumber from all those pushing. When the nurse placed Aidan in my hands, I cuddled him for a minute and felt strangely elevated. His eyes were open, peering at me as though trying to say hello. He was so beautiful, so perfect. And so pink. Like Patrick the starfish. (Not the best comparison, but better than Majin Buu right?) The nurse then placed Aidan in the incubator (I think that’s what that thing is called) and Nazeef recited Adhan in his ears.
Meanwhile my doctor told me to inhale the gas (I call it the laughing gas) because she wanted to stitch up my wounds. I inhaled aplenty because I didn’t feel the difference and was afraid it would not be enough to numb me from the pain. Only a few minutes later did I know I inhaled a little bit too much of gas because the room literally swayed in slow motion and even my listening deteriorated. Every word that came out from everyone’s mouth sounded sluggish – basically slurs of nonsense. The next thing I know, I was already in my own private room waking up to this:
So, that was my labour story. The doctor calls it a “straightforward delivery” or at that moment when I was high with gas it came out as “suturaaaaat dwiiiiberiii”. I was happy and grateful to Allah for being able to deliver without any complications and according to my birth plan. My mom gave birth to six children – all normal AND without epidural, (seriously such a supermom) so I have her as my benchmark (NOT that I’m planning to have six children).
It’s definitely an exhilarating journey – both the pregnancy and delivery process. But not all women go through the same experience. Everyone has their own preferences in ways to give birth and I think it should be respected, regardless. End of the day, it’s you and your baby that matters. No matter what method you choose – ceasar, normal, w/o epidural – remember that we are all supermoms!
All I got to say is, being a mom is the best job in the world ever – definitely worth all of those pushing. Even when you lose the ability to control your bladder after giving birth… Yep, definitely worth it.