It was supposed to be a routine Saturday with a twist – we were to have brunch with a friend at a lavish hotel. The idea was that we should give ourselves a treat before baby arrived because, as we wryly noted, it would probably be years before we could ever sit down to enjoy a quiet meal, let alone dine
in a posh environment!
Alas, baby had other plans! He came a-knocking in the early hours of Saturday morning, prepping mummy for the big day. We even thought it was a prank call! My wife put on a brave front and said that brunch would proceed. By morning, my wife was having a rather unpredictable contractions pattern. Brunch was out the window.
Hours passed and eagerness developed into anxiety. At certain points, my wife cringed in pain, but continued to persevere. I was proud of her. Deep inside, I was beginning to panic. Her contractions grew closer to five minutes apart. Now, it was my turn to put on a brave face! I remembered vividly our obstetrician’s advice: “There’s no need to beat the traffic lights and rush to the hospital like in the dramas. First labour usually progresses slowly.”
We eventually decided to go to the hospital. We snatched our pre-packed bags, I accelerated the car, weaved left and right on the roads, remembered what the doctor said and calmed down.
My wife was attended to by a midwife who, upon evaluation, found that there was some dilation – about 1cm. We looked at each other in disbelief. We have that long to go? I could not bear to see my wife in pain. I turned into a masseur instantly, hoping I could provide some comfort and relief. The clock in the labour room was ticking along at a gravely slow pace and I quietly wished the process would be over soon.
We had planned for this big day, with all our bags packed, our routes planned and the important numbers listed. We even made arrangements with our neighbour to care for our dog. When we left the house that evening, though, our neighbour was out, and since dogs are not allowed in hospitals, we had little choice but to leave a confused Odee at home. That night, with much reluctance, I left my wife in the good hands of the midwives for a couple of hours to go home, so I could pass Odee to the neighbour.
When I got back after two hours, the pain on my wife’s face was too hard to bear. There was nothing in the world that I could do to relieve her pain. A feeling of helplessness and sadness overwhelmed me. By that time, the dilation had not progressed significantly and her pain threshold was slowly being breached.
Our doctor arrived just past midnight. Having checked my wife, he announced that the dilation was only at the halfway mark … 5cm! It would be another 12 hours before baby could make his grand entry. Gulp!
TWELVE hours! The doctor was empathetic about my wife’s condition and though he was an advocate of natural birth, he endorsed my wife’s request for pain relief. The pain eventually petered out, and we could both have some rest – sleep wasn’t possible. There was just too much excitement, anxiety and unpredictability.
By afternoon the next day, our baby was ready to arrive! I was excited, but in the labour room a flurry of activity went by like clockwork; I couldn’t comprehend what was going on.
All of a sudden, my wife was on stirrups, and I was there by her bed encouraging her on. It was bittersweet – bitter because my wife was already exhausted, but sweet because our offspring was just minutes away from appearing.
With a few pushes, our baby made his debut into this world! My excitement was diminished when the doctor did not allow me to ceremoniously snip the umbilical cord; all because baby was having birthing stress. He was quickly whisked off to another station for immediate attention.
A while later, we were delighted when the nurses brought our baby back to us, but the happiness was short-lived. The doctor said our baby needed to go to the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU). Being there in the labour room without our baby definitely tore a hole in my heart. Our baby started off his life alone at the NICU, and there was nothing his parents could do but give their full faith to the medical professionals.
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