39 hours of labour and it was all worth it. If I had to describe it, I would say I feel like I won the jackpot in the lottery, found a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, sniffed some unicorn dust, and won The Voice Australia (mind you, I don’t sing) – all at the same time.
I probably have inhaled a full tank of gas, tried every birthing position possible (some were too embarrassing to even think of), and availed almost all of the labour methods (vacuum, forceps, normal delivery) at the Fiona Stanley Hospital, but this little boy just wouldn’t budge. After an agonising 39 hours at 3am, the midwife finally took a pity on me, gave up her hopes for a normal delivery, and called the doctor who decided that an emergency caesar was necessary and immediately wheeled me into a theatre room.
Upon entering the room, my first thought was – shucks, I just disturbed a staff meeting. There were about 20 people in that room, and that’s excluding me and my partner! My foggy mind – mind you, I haven’t had sleep or a decent meal in two days – justified that there might be other women to use the theatre room at the same time. Anyway, I was already in a pain so intense, all the constipated days I had in my entire lifetime combined was nothing compared to what I was experiencing.
Amidst the pain, cursing, and throwing dirty looks at my partner for having the time to feel sleepy even with all the drama, I found a bestfriend in the in the room – the anaesthesiologist. I tell you, I was so happy and relieved from the pain that I started cracking jokes at the doctors when she injected me with epidural!
All along I thought I was going to have a normal delivery – my mom had five kids all normal, my mom-in-law had four kids all normal, and all my check-ups and consultations were normal. Nothing has prepared me for a long labour and most definitely not a caesar. We didn’t expect those things. But the most that I didn’t expect, is that I love this little bundle more than I thought I would. It is astounding and such a revelation. I then thought, I should take good care of myself and my partner, because only then will we be able to give the world to this little miracle, and offer the best of what life has to give. I think that parents should always think and prioritise what is best for their babies, but if they are not in a good capacity to do so – who is going to teach my baby what love and life is about? Who will teach him how to handle and make good from bad things? Who is going to beat the crap from bullies or anyone who hurt him? (Lol, the last one is my overprotective side speaking.)
Ah, this here is a living poetry.
Max Benedict. 13 July 2016. 4:20am, the coldest morning in Perth after four years at 0.6C. 3060grams, 48cm length.