My Brief Birth Story
So, here it goes.
Bismillah. I remember it was the time of Sahur (pre-dawn meal) in Ramadan. It
was the start of Day 19. And I had woken up at about two-ish in the morning having
a stomach upset. After a visit to the washroom, I had assumed it must have been
a brief episode of an unsettled stomach. And I remember calling AZ in (he was
watching a game of soccer if I remember correctly) and told him my stomach
wasn’t feeling too good. As it was too early to have Sahur yet, he advised I
should spend some time in Tahajjud (night prayer). And I did. We then had the meal, and
that ‘uneasiness’ in the lower stomach kept coming on. I again dismissed it as an upset stomach (as
I was still a week away from my EDD and was pretty confident Baby ZY wasn’t
coming so soon.)
We both prayed Fajr (dawn prayer) and
went back to sleep. Well, I tried. I was waking up very regularly with the
unexplained pain in my stomach. Tossing and turning endlessly, and feeling bad
that AZ deserved his much-needed sleep, at about 7am, I went to have a nap in a
different room in the house. It was an attempt to see if I could get the
frequent pain off my mind and get some sleep. Even at this point, I didn’t even
think that those pains could be early contractions.
At 10am, was when I
decided to move to the living room (and gave up on trying to catch sleep) and
started a casual conversation with Mum. I didn’t exactly tell her about the
pain till it was getting unbearable. I just didn’t want to alarm her if it was
really just Braxton Hicks.
Up to writing to this
point, I recall now that there was also the very ‘painful’ episode of getting scheduled
to be induced for birth while I was at 36 weeks or so. Right to that week, I
would look forward to the Saturday morning visits for our scans and check-ups.
There were so full of bliss. I dreaded that week my gynae had promised to confirm if an inducing process was necessary, as she
cited that Baby ZY was getting too big. AZ and I weren’t excited at that
morning’s check-up and our worries were affirmed when she scheduled a date for me to be induced.
And so, that morning I
have been writing about in the earlier paragraphs was still three days from my
scheduled date. When Mum sensed that my pain was escalating, she quickly called
an Aunt to ask on what she could do to help me ease the pain. She didn’t
suspect that it could be labour pains too. That Aunt had suggested that we boil
ajwain seeds in water and drink the extract. That’s apparently a traditional
way of finding out if the pains were that of labour. If the pain increased
after drinking, that was to be an indication. I very reluctantly broke my fast
and drank a glass of that. And a second serving within an hour, and the pains
only became stronger.
At this moment, I
retreated to a quiet corner and decided to time the intervals that the pains
were coming on. That sort of nailed it – five minutes apart. I half-screamed
for AZ to get ready and had him helping me to get ready. As I was getting
ready, I told myself that if these were actually contractions, I was going to
ask for an epidural administration immediately! This despite, many well-meaning
people who have shared on the side effects of taking one. Deep down within me,
knowing my threshold for pain, I knew I would never get through labour without
this.
At the hospital, the
nurse confirmed that I was in labour (of course) and that my cervix had dilated about 4 cm. But this was not before the ‘trauma’ I had given her while she did the
checks by screaming my head off, while the ‘laughing gas’ did enable both of us
to calm down towards the later part of the check.
From here, after the
epidural was administered, it was a long waiting game for about 9 to 10 hours. I
kept throwing up umpteen times, running a fever and feeling shivers. At least,
I was prepared for this, as some dear friends had already warned of what an
epidural can bring on. While we were reaching the fifth hour mark, my gynae
walked in to say that if Baby’s head wasn't moving down soon, a C-section
will be the best move. My heart really sank at hearing this. I felt like I had
lost the battle, even without fighting it. I was disappointed and upset, while AZ
stayed very positive and I caught on his energy.
After some hours later,
the midwives told me I was fully dilated. 10 cm. And I was all smiles and
upbeat. My hopes were further heightened when the nurses who were checking me every now and then told me they could feel my Baby's hair and even said that he has a lot of hair! I soon found myself surrounded by a team of most caring and encouraging
nurses and midwives, cheering me on, with AZ supporting me at every moment. With the effect of the epidural, I must say I felt zero pain, which means, I
was clueless as to when I should be pushing. In fact, all my pushing was
orchestrated by the nurses and midwives as I didn’t feel a thing. After some
time of pushing, my gynae suggested we try for a vacuum-assisted delivery. We
tried and I still couldn’t push hard enough. I was very exhausted by then, and
when I looked around, the people around me were equally exhausted too. AZ was
visibly affected and then, shortly after, we decided we had to opt for the C-section procedure.
By now, I wasn’t
feeling defeated anymore. Because I felt a sense of satisfaction that I had
tried my best and the people in that critical moment had all tried their best
along with me (my gynae who had given birth to her second child just two months
ago, included).
Nevertheless, there was some unexplained sadness in me. Seeing
this, the chief mid-wife told me that it was really alright to have a C-section
and that she added, “I asked for one too, you know!” And then, I was wheeled
in, where support staff also only had words of encouragement along the way for
me, and AZ.
Moments later,
beautiful ZY was placed from AZ’s hands onto my chest. And that made every bit
worth it. C-Section or not, I was now a Mother, with a Baby in our lives.
The Recovery
From the day of the
procedure to this day, I am very glad to share that I don’t recall any feelings
of pain in my body. My gynae has taken great care during my
healing process and the staff at the hospital rendered excellent service in caring for
us over our three-days' stay.
What was painful was my
mind’s recovery from the C-section. I don’t know what I should term it. Should
it be post-natal blues or was it post-natal depression I fell into? Whatever it
was, I am very sure that these blues were aggravated with the challenges that
came with an UNPLANNED C-section surgery.
It all began on the day
I was discharged from the hospital. It was an instant reality that I was
suddenly immobile, and not very ‘able’ to some extent. There were the constant reminders
from the nurses and Mum that I shouldn’t bend forward, stretch too much, walk
too much, all because my wounds may tear.
The blows were hard
when I needed assistance for everything – from getting up from the sofa,
walking from one point to another and the worst meltdown happened when I
couldn’t care for Baby ZY as much as I had wanted to. There I was, getting to
know this sweet little human in our lives, and with the strain of dealing with
a post C-Section body at the back of my mind. On one of those days, I recall walking
by the clothes line we had bought for ZY, and one of his newly-washed mittens
was blown to the floor by the wind. I stood there staring at it for a long
time, not being able to bend forward and pick it up, and just feeling very
‘disabled’, with so much frustration. Crying over this new ‘disability’, albeit a temporary one, for many
days and nights, became quite common during those first two months after
delivery.
And then, there were
other issues that a C-section surgery brought. The top in my list was
constipation. I battled with it for weeks before I found solutions. This was
the most uncomfortable situation I had. And because I had a C-Section, my poor
Mum, whose childbirth experiences were 30 odd years ago, had to scramble for
advice and information from other aunts and friends. And it didn’t help that
all of them gave very different tips. So, that left her and me to figure out
when and what we wanted to heed. Like when I should begin taking the
traditional medicine for childbirth recovery, as I was also on a whole stack of
medication from my gynae. Like when I should start on my traditional body massage sessions.
Like what foods were appropriate for a speedier recovery.
To top these all up,
I came home with overflowing milk. This was a happy challenge, just that I didn't perceive it that way at that time. There I was, grappling with a not very
‘mobile’ body, a delicate newborn and milk that had to be expressed out very
frequently. Mum and AZ did their best to support me in everything I could. My
Father and Brother supported in spirit, as they had no idea what was going on.
All they knew was that a little Baby was now a part of our family.
There was another blow
of sorts, when I was told that my stitches weren’t healing as they should. And
that meant additional trips to the gynae’s clinic. While I was always upset in
having to leave Baby in Mum’s or AZ’s care when attending the re-dressing sessions,
AZ always reminded that things could have been worse if my gynae was not able
to prescribe medication and rectify the infection. I could have been
hopsitalised for more care, away from Baby ZY, and that would have been very
difficult. Again, Alhamdhulilah, for everything.
And then, breastfeeding. Something I wished I could have done a bit better in. The
additional medication that I was prescribed to clear the infection was not
breastfeeding-friendly. Hence, my gynae had advised that I pump out and discard
the milk for a week that I was on it. This was very, very painful to do. Yet
again, she did her best to prescribe fenugreek supplements to boost milk
supply. Somewhere, along this process, I lost that momentum, and as though
feeling my emotions, my body reacted, producing lesser milk by the days. I cried
over this, spoke at length with AZ, cried over it again and we both decided to
completely switch to formula if that was going to make me a notch saner.
Getting to the most
important thing I wanted to convey to anyone reading this post, these are some
things we can do to make life a little bit easier for these Mothers recovering
from that C-Section surgery.
1) Don’t tear us
further.
It has been painful
enough for most of us. Whether it was an emergency decision, or a planned
decision in view of our child’s safety. So, it helps if you don’t add salt to
the wounds by passing some uncalled for remarks when you actually visit. I had relatives who went from smiling to frowning when they heard that I
dilated to 10 cm and still couldn’t deliver my baby naturally. And well, added on, “So wasted for you, wasn’t it?” Trust me, this is a personal journey and
not a single piece of this was ‘wasted’!
2) Don’t do surprise visits.
Oh, please, please do
check with the new Mother and family before popping by. That’s the least we all
ask for. Imagine having clogged, painful milk ducts, very swollen feet and a constipated system
and having to walk out to the living room to make small talk with guests.
3) Show concern. Supportive
words make a lot of difference.
This really does make a
difference, as I’ve mentioned about my dear sisters below. I remember looking
around for help to bend down and get a diaper changing mat at the hospital’s
pharmacy's lower- level shelf, after one of my follow-up checks. And a woman at a distance
came running and bent over and picked it up for me, without me having to
explain that I just had a C-Section done a week ago (and so couldn’t bend down
to take the item). I was close to tears and couldn’t thank her enough.
4) Respect personal
choices.
Breastfeeding included,
please. We all know the facts that breastfeeding is the best for a child. At
the same time, a Mother knows best and her instincts will always be genuine. So,
save your breath the next time you want to cite examples of your fully-breastfed child not
having caught a cold for two whole years when you know the new Mum has started
formula for her own reasons.
5) Remember Dulcolax
and Lactulose.
These were the two ‘life-saving’
medication that granted me the much-needed relief after weeks of discomfort –
something that added on to my post-natal blues. While Dulcolax tablets were
already prescribed by my gynae, I purchased Lactulose through the hospital
pharmacist’s advice, and consuming the two items at the same time was the best
solution for me.
Throughout this journey,
I am so blessed to have had many sisters (dearest girlfriends) whom I have
poured out my emotions too, and have supported me with only words that I needed
to hear. Some of them had natural births, while others had C-Section births
like I did. There are single sisters who also provided a listening ear and by just
being there. There was no judging. No negativity. Only the purest form of
heartfelt support.
There’s this Sister, Masha-Allah,we so miraculously shared a similar pregnancy journey. Both of us were at 21 weeks
when we shared the happy news with each other. And we also share a very similar
birth story and times of post-natal blues too. Not surprisingly, our Baby Boys
were born just one day apart. I am really glad that we both have overcome that
and embraced motherhood the way we had so yearned to. Alhamdhulilah.
There’s also this dear
Sister who has always made duas for me and my Boy. And who pops up messages in
my phone at my slightest thoughts of her. The only one of two who told me about
the ‘not-so-cushy’ sides of post pregnancy, and send me things to help keep my
mind sane even before I delivered. Then again, we are never always prepared,
not for childbirth at least, I’ve learnt.
This Sister who kept
encouraging that I would eventually come out of this momentary bubble. And
reminding me of the times that I have been confident and overcome challenges.
And has always been there all the time to just listen. And that, we all know,
does wonders on a woman’s soul.
There is another
Sister, who also pre-empted about the post-natal waves that may show up. And has
always been supportive with words of care in her own ways. With her too, I
share a very similar emergency C-section birth story, with our deliveries
destined exactly I year apart.
There are yet Sisters
who have given me the rawest feedback, frank, bold and heartfelt guidance and
advice on breastfeeding, and many other aspects on so many occasions and
given me the inspiration to pick myself up and live it all up.
Thank you, from my
bottom of my heart, ladies. You know who you are. To many years of sisterhood and friendship.
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