It’s six months already! Six months since that beautiful morning when I was wheeled into a theater, with tears in my eyes and a prayer in my heart. Six months since I lay on that cold bed (why are theaters so cold?) and recited Psalm 23 just before the anesthetist knocked me out! Six months ago, I entered a room as just a pregnant woman and 30 minutes later I came out a mother. That morning was a concoction of emotion: tears, pain, in-explainable anxiety and finally expressible joy.
There was also a tinge of disappointment. You see, I had done all I could to make sure I get my baby the normal way. I exercised a lot, I walked for kilometers each day,I drank gallons of water, I tried to keep fit and to eat less salt (this was the hardest of all, i’m a ‘salt-holic’ :).
When my scan showed my baby was getting fatigued, I was so scared. And then the scares turned to fear and frustration. The night before we went to hospital, I sat at the balcony and cried a river! I just felt like I had somewhat failed my baby. We were admitted to hospital the following day so that labor could be induced.
I had heard the scariest of stories about induced labor. Horrific images were painted in my mind and the pain described as insane! So the inducing process started and I waited for the pain of the century — nothing happened! They thought something was wrong so more drugs were pumped into my system intravenously — nothing happened! I still think they were giving me Sprite!
More than 24 hours later, I was still waiting for the said pain, I think it didn’t get the memo. I was frustrated beyond description — believe me! I guess when your mind is made up and you are anticipating something as glorious as a baby, even the absence of pain is not a relief, it’s a disappointment! I cried my heart out again, cried because I couldn’t feel the pain that was to usher my bundle of joy into this world!
On the morning of the CS, everything seemed normal; until the nurse showed up to check for the baby’s heartbeat and it was missing! Missing? What? If we were talking about a bunch of keys or even a cell phone, I would understand. But a heartbeat, my baby’s heart beat was missing! Where the Hague was it? Just like that, a simple exercise turned into an emergency! We were now running helter-skelter trying to reach the theater in the shortest time. I just wanted them to give me a knife, I would have removed her myself!
That 10 seconds trip to the theater was the longest journey I have ever traveled. I cried all the way there, praying for the slightest movement that would tell me that my baby was gonna be fine. I slipped into unconsciousness as I recited Psalm 23 — and this time it wasn’t for me. It was for the tiny soul inside my belly whose heart was already giving up, yet she hadn’t even seen the light of day.
I woke up with only one question in my mind; is my baby o.k? The gyna assured me, and even excitedly told me that I had a baby girl. I was not relieved until I saw her. And as much as I did not have the strength to hold her, I tried to put her tiny hands into mine. We had traveled the road to delivery, and we were both alive!
It was two weeks before Christmas and we couldn’t think of a better gift. We called her Zawadi! 🙂