I ate plenty of pineapples. I did squats. I walked for miles
and kilometres. I stimulated my nipples. I ate spicy food. I travelled in a speedy
bus in a bumpy road. None of these brought my labour close.
The D-Day
I walked majestically into the hospital roughly half past 11
am on 2nd February 2015, in the company of my friend, namesake,
Nancy. It was a scheduled induction since I had carried my pregnancy past full-term.
41 weeks was no joke. As sports people say, dakika za lala salama (the baby was
staying overtime).
I had no signs of labor. I must admit that I only felt the
weight but contractions nilikuwa naskia na watu (I was hearing it on other women).
Not even a pinch. The baby was kicking slowly. Not as fast as during the 32nd
week. I walked into the maternity and labour ward. There was no mother who was
delivering on that day. So, immediately I resolved that this was my big day as
all the attention would be shifted to me. Nothing would go wrong.
The nurse on duty asked for my essentials and right away
directed me to some ward where I was put on a drip. My namesake, Nancy, who was
also pregnant, sat by my side asking me there and then how it felt to be on a
drip (kuwekewa maji). For the first
30 minutes into the drip, I felt no pain. I was just lying on the bed, my hand
stretched right down to my hip. At one point, I told my friend, (kwani hii uchungu watu husema wanaskia mbona
mimi sisikii?) for a while, I considered myself a kingpin.
My gynaecologist for the day, I have known him since my 2nd
trimester walked in. He said that he wanted to break my water. Legs apart,
relax and go. My water did not break naturally. He inserted his fingers, and
reached out for it. He broke my water. The water was warm. It felt like those
old days in primary school when I used to wet the bed, and feel that warmth
then snap, it gets cold again. It overflowed in the bed and got its way under
the bed. The nurses who stood by the side looked in awe. It was painful I must
say.
Labour woes
Wait until the 45th minute, trouble began, my
lips dried, eyes red, stomach pulled tight. The long painful journey had
already started. I screamed; pulled my dreadlocks, hit the wall, called baby
daddy, abused him, cursed motherhood and sex but all in vain. The worst was
when the gynaecologist came to check how far I had dilated, Oh My! That man, a
middle-aged man, slightly tall, brown in complexion came and requested me to
put my legs apart, relax, and let him check how far I was. Again! Shell-shocked
me, he put on a pair of gloves, and inserted his fingers onto my birth canal, I
was only 3 cm dilated.
An hour, two, three hours. I cannot move because I am on a
drip. Then a silly idea struck my mind. I wanted to walk around, I wanted to
roll on the floor, I wanted a massage on my lower back and on my belly too. Yet
I did not want anyone close to me. So, I said I want to go pee in the toilet. I
thought the nurses would release me of the drip, walk slowly, pee, then come
back, or even run away. I heard the nurse call another to bring on a catheter. I
had no idea what it was until it was brought. Alhamudhulilahi! So they
performed a urinary catheterisation on me. I regretted why I said that.
It is lunchtime. The doctor comes again, fingers me and
voila! 6 cm dilated. The pain is real. So the caterer brings in rice and stew
plus a banana. God, I am thirsty and I am not allowed to take water. I want to
devour a whole jerry can but they won’t give me. They say if I have an urge, I should
take sips of water. I managed to take two tablespoons of rice. Every moment I swallowed,
I felt a sharp pain on my stomach. By this time, I had endured my best. So, as I
approached contraction, I slightly pushed the baby and got relieved as I waited
for another one.
My friend left at lunchtime to go eat. You know how pregnant
women feel hungry easily, and cannot control the urge to eat anything that goes
through the mouth. By this time baby daddy had come to the hospital, he was out
on purpose.
Labor pain has no
tears
On my bed, I remembered how my other friend, Mama Brayden, told
me that, no one cries while in labour. It was true. I tried to remember bad
things that had happened but none of then rolled tears down my cheeks.
I started screaming for help, daktari kuja unisaidie, aki nakufa. (Doctor please come and help, I
am dying).
Another nurse from the blues replied, hakuna mtu ashawai kufa na labour pains, vumilia bado time yako haijafika.(no
one has ever died of labour pains, just press on, your time has not come.)
I ignored her, aki
mnaniangalia nikikufa, woiye, kujeni mnisaidie. (You are watching me die,
please come help me.)
Another nurse brought me maternity pads, I asked her, uko na
watoto, (do you have kids?) wangapi? (How many?)
She replied: Two. Ulisikia hii uchungu yote? (Did you endure
all this pain?) She replied: Yes I did.
I braced myself harder. I could hear them talking about me. Huyo mama leo ako peke yake, hana wa
kumsaidia kupiga kelele, atakipatapata.(Today she is alone, she has no
running mate to help her shout, she will find it rough.) Then a laugh ensued. I
heard one say that I stop screaming because I will need that energy to push out
the baby. I didn’t care. All I wanted was for this baby to come out. I kept
pushing her out even if the ripe time hadn’t come. Nurses told me I will hurt
her.
Kati yangu mimi na yeye
nani anaumiza mwingine zaidi? (between me and her who is hurting the other
most?) I thought.
The contractions became 3-4 minutes apart. I was dying to
pinch, or even bite my bundle of joy that was making me go through hell. Circa 4
pm, the shout I made alerted everyone, Ndio
huyo anatoka, kujeni mumwokote chini, (she is coming out, come pick her up.)
Three nurses came in as one rushed to call the gynaecologist. As he came, he
ordered them to get me inside the delivery room.
Inside the delivery
room
My throat was sore. My body was weak. Legs feeble. The gynaecologist
wore a green clothe. Five nurses standing in front of me. I was in a green gown
too. I sat slanted on a bed, legs apart, relaxed, and then waited for the gynae
to ask me to push.
Are you ready to push now? Asked the gynae. Yes, I am. I said
gladly. The long wait was close to over.
Two pushes nothing. The third one I pooped. Fourth time I was
told they had seen the head. I was tired.
One nurse said that I was hurting the baby yet it was time
for her to make the grand entrance into the world. I couldn’t push anymore. But
when I thought all I have gone through and end up in a caesarean birth, the
thought of paying twice the amount of vaginal birth motivated me and puuuuuuuuuush!
out she came. 5:03 pm. Monday, 02-02-2015. She was weighing 3.3 kilograms.
Awww! My cute darling daughter came out, she cried, she didn’t
wait for a spank to cry.
Removal of the placenta
People often say, ukishapush
ni hivyo, (when the child comes out it is over!) But not yet. The placenta
was removed by pressing my stomach severally. After it was out, I was still
profusely bleeding. Blood was oozing on the bed. Quickly the doctor rectified
the vessel that was bleeding. He put instruments I don’t know, the likes of
forceps and another one similar to a long scissors. Another injection on my hip
was administered to stop bleeding.
The needle and thread
I went through an episiotomy. According to an internet
source, an episiotomy is also known as perineotomy, it is a surgical incision of the perineum and the
posterior vaginal wall generally done by a midwife or obstetrician during
second stage of labor to quickly enlarge the opening for the baby to pass
through (sic.)
I felt a sharp pain as the doctor sewed me. But I wouldn’t
compare it to the labour one. When he was done, I changed my attire to the
usual sky blue one I wore when I came to the hospital. As I stood on the floor,
I was trembling, shaking as if I had been rained on by El Nino. I was transferred
to another ward where I was served hot tea and porridge. I regained my energy.
I wanted to inform people that my bundle of joy had arrived.
I started drafting a message that I never even reached the middle. So I called
them. My voice was quite shaky but they got the message.
An evening without
milk
She was brought to me while sleeping. So she slept by my
side as I looked at her. Her face had red marks, on the nose and the upper part
of the eyes as a result of pushing her before time. That aside, my baby is so
healthy. Smiling as she is sleeping.
She wakes up, I put her on the boob and she can hardly have
any of her booby juice. There is no milk. I can feel it she needs something to
quench her thirst. She hasn’t drunk anything since three hours ago. So the
nurse decides to give her drops of NAN, baby formula. A few drops.
We sleep, then the following day comes. Friends come over.
Mama Brayden, Nancy along with two other friends come in.
Engorged breasts
They find me breastfeeding and Mama Brayden squeezes my boob
to get some milk. But little amounts are coming. I am encouraged.
My boobs are so full and hurting but she can’t latch
properly. Her mouth is so petite. I lay her to sleep as I recount the story of
labour to my friends.
In the long-run, the result of the hotbed was great!
In the long-run, the result of the hotbed was great!
 |
| Shuneta my darling daughter |
