D-day!!! (Written at my parents’ house on 6th March 2006)
The whirring of the standee fan, the chirping of sparrows outside on the rooftop almost lulled me to sleep. But sleep seemed to elude me. I miss my husband. He just left for Jakarta for a corporate team building exercise. It has been 10 days since I’ve given birth and it is still a learning curve from thereon. A lot to learn and re-learn. Unlike the caregiver, my baby is sleeping soundly. I am using this opportune breather to expatiate on my child-birthing experience. Allow me to retrace my steps to that fateful day…
There I was being admitted to the hospital at 8:30 pm. It was Wednesday 22nd February. Despite my reservations for the anti-climactic nature of my labour, my concerns, my inner-struggle, I was, by definition, to be induced. This was confirmed by the nurses who were in attendance that night. The insertion of prostaglandin pessaries into my private area will assist in expediting the opening of my cervical recesses. It was 10 o’clock when the night shift nurse, Mrs Salina, proceeded with the insertion. This was less painful compared to the internal exam I had to endure with my gynae. That called for a deeper burrowing up the birth canal by his gloved hand. In other words, it was quite excruciating!
This procedure followed by hooking me up to a catheter containing oxytocin which is another ‘induction aid’. My husband and I tried to sleep after the procedure but we were nervous and excited at the same time to doze off. I was also being monitored for contractions and checked on at odd hours so sleep appeared to be last in priority.
Earlier on, before I was admitted to the labour room, I had frantically indulged in last minute house-cleaning i.e., washing clothes – about 3-4 loads! It was my way of NOT thinking about labour. My husband, on the other hand, was already a ball of nerves - he emitted nausea-like sounds. It was not until toward the end of my domestic frenzy that it dawned on me I was going to deliver a baby! A real live baby will come out of me!
Thinking of all the horror delivery stories I’d heard, I became nervous and scared of the procedure. Luckily, by this time my husband’s nerves had settled down, so he in turn pacified me. A hug from your hubby can do wonders. At least, it kept my mind off labor for about 10 minutes. Well, maybe 5 minutes tops.
We had what we tagged as “last supper” at O’Brien’s – an Irish chain gourmet sandwich deli – which we decided to try for the first time. It was heavenly – at a price that is. But, I didn’t mind – it was my last carrot juice for many days to come.
Back to the hospital bed - by morning (well make that 5 am during which the nurse sprang the lights up on us), I was still experiencing only mild contractions. The attendant nurse thereafter came in with my breakfast and subsequently administered an enema into my anus (you know for what). By 9 am, my gynae performed another internal exam and lo and behold, my cervix was still 1cm in opening, The doctor then gave a grave prognosis – if by 24 hours’ time I hadn’t dilated sufficiently, he might opt to do a C-section. It was the last thing I wanted to hear.
After he left, we decided to take drastic action – in the form of walking around the labor room to induce contractions. It worked! We couldn’t believe it at first. We had even been requested to move into the ward room around 2pm since I wasn’t yet fully dilated. That was when the ward manager monitored my contractions which were then quite near to one another. I was immediately “returned” to the labour room. The gynae came shortly thereafter and much to my dislike, did another internal exam. Satisfied that my cervix had dilated about 2 1/2 to 3cm, he broke my waterbag by way of an amniohook. Water gushed out for what seemed like eternity. Like a tub being drained out after the stoppage is pulled up, the water escaping the “hole” was large in volume and rapid in speed. It even dripped to the floor. I had to change my hospital dress – that was after I had been hosed down from the excess amniotic fluid that clung to my body. I felt exhausted – the process was far from over. In fact, it had just started.
Due to the anticipated long labor, I decided to opt for epidurals. It was a consensual decision. My husband didn’t want me to suffer pain unnecessarily and I was too tired to argue otherwise. It was almost 4pm when the anesthesiologist inserted the epidural tube down my spine. I wasn’t able to see it myself but my husband said a lot of blood oozed out during the hooking-up procedure (Well, that was nothing compared to labor time!).
Following that, I went to sleep until about dinner time (7pm). By then, the cervix opened about 4cm. I later drifted back to sleep right until the moment I felt excruciating pain. My epidural drip had run out and I was in dire need of quick top-up. The nurse refilled more anesthesia down my spine but to no avail. The throbbing pain still lingered. It was a series of contractions. The pain was so bad that I couldn’t lie still or breath properly.
I wanted more anesthetic – I didn’t care! The nurse conferred with anesthesiologist on call and he gave the green light for another top-up. It was nearly 11pm when the second dose finally kicked in and I was able to lie flat on my mattress without cringing.
By then, my cervix had almost fully dilated. My gynae came from his home around 11:30pm and examined my cervix opening. 15 minutes later he had already put on his galoshes. The two nurses on duty thereon installed these leg harnesses at the opposite sides of my bed. Since I couldn’t feel any sensation in my legs, I propped my lead-like legs up with the assistance of the nurses.
Come the contractions, I was urged to push with a caveat – not from the chest cavity but from my bowel area – as if I were doing No.1. Three to four pushes afterwards, as I opened my eyes from the feat of pushing, I heard the gynae said “Here’s your baby” whilst simultaneously putting my baby on my lap. I was shocked! It was like a magic trick! Once my eyes were opened, the baby was plonked on me. It was the most wonderful experience, next to my wedding that is…I was beside words. She was beautiful. Her skin was porcelain white (almost doll-like) and her eyes were wide opened. They were looking straight at me and my husband.
The nurses cleared her lungs and performed other tests before handing her back to us… We then sang Happy Birthday to her while waiting for my gynae to finish stitching me up. Yes, it was not exactly the most Islamic thing to do.. but technically it was her “birthday”.
After the gynae left, and the nurses cleared the labor room, my husband intoned the call to prayer (“azan” in Arabic) through the baby’s right ear, and the “qamat” (response to call of prayer) into the baby’s left ear. It is customary and recommended that a Muslim father does this as soon as he can after the baby is out the womb.
Our baby was later carried to the nursery for washing and bathing. We were both elated and relieved that the ordeal had finally come to a “hurling” end. It was however not over, until I vomited on my husband’s jeans, an after-effect of the epidural running out. Luckily for him, I didn’t eat much solids, so it was more liquid based. Aside from the mind numbing itchiness (another side-effect) I had to agonized following childbirth, everything went pretty well as I had hoped for. We hope and thankful for…
A baby girl whom we named Sadia Firjani, which literally means, “flower” and “cure for sadness” in Arabic/Persian . Our own flower pot which we will nurture, protect and comfort in turn.
The whirring of the standee fan, the chirping of sparrows outside on the rooftop almost lulled me to sleep. But sleep seemed to elude me. I miss my husband. He just left for Jakarta for a corporate team building exercise. It has been 10 days since I’ve given birth and it is still a learning curve from thereon. A lot to learn and re-learn. Unlike the caregiver, my baby is sleeping soundly. I am using this opportune breather to expatiate on my child-birthing experience. Allow me to retrace my steps to that fateful day…
There I was being admitted to the hospital at 8:30 pm. It was Wednesday 22nd February. Despite my reservations for the anti-climactic nature of my labour, my concerns, my inner-struggle, I was, by definition, to be induced. This was confirmed by the nurses who were in attendance that night. The insertion of prostaglandin pessaries into my private area will assist in expediting the opening of my cervical recesses. It was 10 o’clock when the night shift nurse, Mrs Salina, proceeded with the insertion. This was less painful compared to the internal exam I had to endure with my gynae. That called for a deeper burrowing up the birth canal by his gloved hand. In other words, it was quite excruciating!
This procedure followed by hooking me up to a catheter containing oxytocin which is another ‘induction aid’. My husband and I tried to sleep after the procedure but we were nervous and excited at the same time to doze off. I was also being monitored for contractions and checked on at odd hours so sleep appeared to be last in priority.
Earlier on, before I was admitted to the labour room, I had frantically indulged in last minute house-cleaning i.e., washing clothes – about 3-4 loads! It was my way of NOT thinking about labour. My husband, on the other hand, was already a ball of nerves - he emitted nausea-like sounds. It was not until toward the end of my domestic frenzy that it dawned on me I was going to deliver a baby! A real live baby will come out of me!
Thinking of all the horror delivery stories I’d heard, I became nervous and scared of the procedure. Luckily, by this time my husband’s nerves had settled down, so he in turn pacified me. A hug from your hubby can do wonders. At least, it kept my mind off labor for about 10 minutes. Well, maybe 5 minutes tops.
We had what we tagged as “last supper” at O’Brien’s – an Irish chain gourmet sandwich deli – which we decided to try for the first time. It was heavenly – at a price that is. But, I didn’t mind – it was my last carrot juice for many days to come.
Back to the hospital bed - by morning (well make that 5 am during which the nurse sprang the lights up on us), I was still experiencing only mild contractions. The attendant nurse thereafter came in with my breakfast and subsequently administered an enema into my anus (you know for what). By 9 am, my gynae performed another internal exam and lo and behold, my cervix was still 1cm in opening, The doctor then gave a grave prognosis – if by 24 hours’ time I hadn’t dilated sufficiently, he might opt to do a C-section. It was the last thing I wanted to hear.
After he left, we decided to take drastic action – in the form of walking around the labor room to induce contractions. It worked! We couldn’t believe it at first. We had even been requested to move into the ward room around 2pm since I wasn’t yet fully dilated. That was when the ward manager monitored my contractions which were then quite near to one another. I was immediately “returned” to the labour room. The gynae came shortly thereafter and much to my dislike, did another internal exam. Satisfied that my cervix had dilated about 2 1/2 to 3cm, he broke my waterbag by way of an amniohook. Water gushed out for what seemed like eternity. Like a tub being drained out after the stoppage is pulled up, the water escaping the “hole” was large in volume and rapid in speed. It even dripped to the floor. I had to change my hospital dress – that was after I had been hosed down from the excess amniotic fluid that clung to my body. I felt exhausted – the process was far from over. In fact, it had just started.
Due to the anticipated long labor, I decided to opt for epidurals. It was a consensual decision. My husband didn’t want me to suffer pain unnecessarily and I was too tired to argue otherwise. It was almost 4pm when the anesthesiologist inserted the epidural tube down my spine. I wasn’t able to see it myself but my husband said a lot of blood oozed out during the hooking-up procedure (Well, that was nothing compared to labor time!).
Following that, I went to sleep until about dinner time (7pm). By then, the cervix opened about 4cm. I later drifted back to sleep right until the moment I felt excruciating pain. My epidural drip had run out and I was in dire need of quick top-up. The nurse refilled more anesthesia down my spine but to no avail. The throbbing pain still lingered. It was a series of contractions. The pain was so bad that I couldn’t lie still or breath properly.
I wanted more anesthetic – I didn’t care! The nurse conferred with anesthesiologist on call and he gave the green light for another top-up. It was nearly 11pm when the second dose finally kicked in and I was able to lie flat on my mattress without cringing.
By then, my cervix had almost fully dilated. My gynae came from his home around 11:30pm and examined my cervix opening. 15 minutes later he had already put on his galoshes. The two nurses on duty thereon installed these leg harnesses at the opposite sides of my bed. Since I couldn’t feel any sensation in my legs, I propped my lead-like legs up with the assistance of the nurses.
Come the contractions, I was urged to push with a caveat – not from the chest cavity but from my bowel area – as if I were doing No.1. Three to four pushes afterwards, as I opened my eyes from the feat of pushing, I heard the gynae said “Here’s your baby” whilst simultaneously putting my baby on my lap. I was shocked! It was like a magic trick! Once my eyes were opened, the baby was plonked on me. It was the most wonderful experience, next to my wedding that is…I was beside words. She was beautiful. Her skin was porcelain white (almost doll-like) and her eyes were wide opened. They were looking straight at me and my husband.
The nurses cleared her lungs and performed other tests before handing her back to us… We then sang Happy Birthday to her while waiting for my gynae to finish stitching me up. Yes, it was not exactly the most Islamic thing to do.. but technically it was her “birthday”.
After the gynae left, and the nurses cleared the labor room, my husband intoned the call to prayer (“azan” in Arabic) through the baby’s right ear, and the “qamat” (response to call of prayer) into the baby’s left ear. It is customary and recommended that a Muslim father does this as soon as he can after the baby is out the womb.
Our baby was later carried to the nursery for washing and bathing. We were both elated and relieved that the ordeal had finally come to a “hurling” end. It was however not over, until I vomited on my husband’s jeans, an after-effect of the epidural running out. Luckily for him, I didn’t eat much solids, so it was more liquid based. Aside from the mind numbing itchiness (another side-effect) I had to agonized following childbirth, everything went pretty well as I had hoped for. We hope and thankful for…
A baby girl whom we named Sadia Firjani, which literally means, “flower” and “cure for sadness” in Arabic/Persian . Our own flower pot which we will nurture, protect and comfort in turn.
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