Looking Back -2 (Labour Day)

Dr. S, nonchalant, serious, accusing-me-of-being-over-anxious, my doc was confident that I would have an easy peasy natural delivery. I think he secretly hoped for a quick baby to avoid my usual question bombardment during routine check ups (First Time Mom Syndrome!).

Every mother will remember her delivery. Or at least these days when women have 0-3 kids at an average. We all love talking about our deliveries; often discussing the similarities, the bravado we showed, the staff that handled us, the recovery and the ugly shriveled tummy we endowed later. Frankly, there should be a statute of limitations on how many times (to one person- I have friends who can tell my delivery story better than me.. sorry guys) and for how many years after delivery should one be allowed to talk about it.

Here is my turn. To make it easy for a new prey to avoid my story I can just direct them here and save the effort of having to politely hear about my journey. 

I was admitted at the MH on Friday the 13th, June 2014 (the irony of the date just dawned on me). I often, proudly tell people that I was so active during my pregnancy that I was shooting hoops with my Dad on a day before getting admitted. A fact which is absolutely useless considering that all the activeness in the world didn't matter in front of destiny. 

Dr. S was happy with my progress and he thought I would deliver by morning... er.. Nope.
My sister, who was accompanying me, and I both barely got any sleep all night. By morning, I was induced and put on a glucose drip. Saturday was Operation day at the M.H. so we knew that one way or another, we will meet the baby today.

I was kept in the labour room throughout the day and I experienced some pains which I was told was contractions. In my head I was laughing at them, smugly. This? Pain? HA! I could do this in my sleep. I must be having ninja powers because this feels so mild. They glorify the pains in the movies. Wow, I have some kick-ass pain threshold. Bring it on. I'll sneeze and the baby will slip out. 

Sneaking out of the labour room

My sister and I would take turns to sneak in and out to chit chat and emotionally blackmail her to giving me some 5 star chocolates. Once I evaded the nurse; drips on both hands, under the pretext of going to the loo and ran and met The Husband. Felt like school! 

The beep of the NST machine, the blank walls and the slowwww moving clock got really dull especially when the REAL pains didn't kick in to keep me busy. Outside the room, everything was bustling! Dada Dadi on their way from Delhi, The Husband (already) buying sweets, Didi nervously devising plans on surpassing the nurse and Mom Dad managing the scene at home.

By 6 P.M. Dr. S looked concerned. Induction of labour didn't work. Long story short. The Husband and the doc took the decision of going in for a operation against my pre-labour-pain bravado on insisting that I will wait for natural delivery. I didn't even get time to process what this entails and before I knew it, the staff was prepping me for the operation while I was simultaneously experiencing labour pains which suddenly decided to make an appearance at the party. 

Lets just say I now know how and why the phrase 'Mother of all...' came into being. Till now I was calling out for my husband when I'd experience any pain. And now all I could shout was 'MOM!!!' THIS is labour pain? No shit. No body was kidding. These are sent from hell. How does one expect a normal human to handle this? Why would one willingly go through this? How is it that we are facing population explosion? This was the mother of all pains. Apparently my cries were so loud that my naive, First Time Dad, husband thought that I have delivered.

Within minutes I was wearing a unflattering patient's gown, a messy plait and sitting in our loyal blue car next to my nervously smiling husband and my visibly nervous sister. I could see my pain reflected in her eyes. She had the same look she has when she sees a dead puppy and can do nothing about it. Besides her was The Husband behaving like a happy person having an anxiety attack. 

Soon I was in the OT, bustling with clinking noises, lots of strange eyes and masked faces. The good man, the anesthetist said, 'Ma'am, you'll feel a slight prick'. I had just gone through another contraction and in the lull, I managed a smirk at the use of the word 'slight prick'. 'I believe you haven't been through labour, please bring on the prick.. Just numb me NOW!'

It. Was. Like. MAGIC. God Bless the darling people who carefully figured- this fluid, in this vertebrae & voila! no pain. And boy, was I happy. I was chatting with my main surgeon and my gynecologist as though they're at my place for a cup of tea and not cutting me open and pulling my baby out. 

Finally, I heard the cry. 'A boy's cry' I said but the docs fancied keeping it a surprise a little longer. I am smiling as I type this because I can close my eyes anytime and clearly see my son for the first time. Bright, wide-eyed, tiny and scanty hair. 

The newest member of the family was whisked away by the oldest members of the family to the ward and my Dad, my husband and my sister stayed back while I was being patched up. In my new found happiness (owing to the numbness of pain) I was profusely thanking a very stunned audience(OT staff), for taking the time out and coming for my operation. Outside the OT, my concerned husband asked the surgeon about my well being; 'Oh don't worry about her! She's happily chatting and is worried about the baby's hair!'