Sunday, May 12, 2019

Love in the O.T.


I am lying on a narrow table wearing a skimpy hospital gown. I have a tube fitted into my bladder and that makes me uncomfortable. On one hand I am being given drips, on the other is a tube – I am not sure of its purpose. 

I am surrounded by four gynaecologists, a couple of anaesthetists and surgeons. A male surgeon asks me to lie on my side. I hold my tummy and roll on my side carefully. I turn slowly and assume the fetal position they have asked me to be in. 

I feel my tummy hanging out of the table. The male surgeons hold me but I don’t feel any shame – shame is the last thing on my mind. A doctor comes and removes the flaps of my gown and marks three dots on my spine. With a pen, I suppose. 

The anaesthetist tells me he is going to give me injections. It might hurt but don’t move, he says. He gives me 3 shots on my spine. It hurts a bit and then they ask me to lie on my back. I see them fit something to a monitor so that they can see my heart rate. I have an oxygen mask on.

Slowly, it starts getting hazy. I can no longer feel my legs or hips. They ask me if I can and I mumble a no. A small screen is placed just below my chest. The surgeons put on their masks.

A lady doctor is standing behind me holding my shoulders. She tries to make some small talk. I see the youngest surgeon in the group take a pair of knives. I look away. I can’t feel the pain but I know they are opening me up. 

All of them are chattering happily. This is something they do daily, no big deal for them. I hear my gynaec say, “Now where’s the baby….ah there!”

She takes out a tiny, screaming baby covered in slimy white. “Namaste” she says to you. I have never seen the grim doctor happier than this. She holds you up for me to see and I manage a small smile. “What baby is it?” I ask though I already know. 

A boy, they answer. I smile and look at the clock on the wall. It’s 11.58 AM. This is the moment. The moment that I have fallen in love. I want to keep gazing at you but they have already taken you away.

And now I am being closed up. The screen is taken away and I am all stitched up. The male surgeons with the help of two hospital staff lift me and place me on a bed. And then I am wheeled out of the O.T. to be kept in observation. On the way both my moms come to see me. Their eyes are wet. 

In the observation room I feel like I have slept for an eternity after which I feel a range of things. First the anaesthesia wears off and the pain of the incision sets in. Next my body starts shivering badly – an effect of the medication, the nurse tells me. And then there is great difficulty in simply turning over. 

After a while a nurse brings me my bundle of joy - you. All covered up in a white towel. She asks me if I saw you properly in the O.T. No, I say and she holds you up. A sweet little face with eyes closed, a button of a nose, and darling mouth. Scarce hair. A beautiful baldy. I fall in love again. She puts you on my breast and you feed hungrily. 

They bring you in 2-3 times for feeds. And then finally they shift me to the room. Here begins our journey – together as a family. 

Your father is by my side all the time. While we are asleep, while we are awake. He helps me to the bathroom for 2 days as I am in pain. He bathes me, feeds me, helps me change my blood stained napkins. He holds us close, close to his heart. As your father sees to my needs with loving care, I hope you become that kind of man to your wife.

I did not write the harrowing details of my c-section to make you squeamish or to prove I went through a lot. It is just to tell you how much every woman goes through to nurture a life. Respect women because they deserve as much respect as any man. Respect everyone – man, woman, child, animal. For we are all equal. We are all one. We complement each other.

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PS: This is an excerpt from my diary that I keep for my son. I will give it to him when he is old enough to understand. 

Also, a very happy Mother's Day to every mother - whether you pushed the baby out or had him/her taken out, it doesn't matter. What matters is what follows - the beautiful journey of motherhood. Huge shout-out to all our mothers, for setting the bar really, really high for us. We are supermoms if we can be half as good as they have been!

6 comments:

  1. I was recommended this blog by my cousin. I am not sure whether this post is written by him as no one else know such detailed about my difficulty.

    You're wonderful! Thanks!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Hiii ..... U r back with ur writing s....guess who I am😁

    ReplyDelete
  3. Hi Chechi... how have you been?? Long time..... have been waiting for your posts....

    ReplyDelete
  4. Anonymous
    Thanks!

    Anonymous
    Mm...Anon?

    Unknown
    This comment section is getting increasingly interesting with a whole lot of unnamed faces! :D I am good, but please tell me your name :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hihi...I'm Vidya☺

      Delete
    2. Aah..Vidya! :) How's it going in Dubai? And how is your little one? How's Rahul?

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