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9 magic months
At first I was convinced that I should tame your fears, then what scares me the most, that is childbirth myself, will not be an unpleasant surprise for me.
She spent my night's sleep ignorance regarding the appearance and course of labor. I was afraid of how my body would react to pain, what its intensity would be and whether I would be able to deal with it with dignity, without falling into hysteria, to deal with it.
The written word did not impress me much. I felt a strong urge to see what it looks like with my own eyes. Quite by accident, I came across a documentary series broadcast by MTV - "High School Pregnancy" and since then it has often appeared on my TV screen. Although I have not been a teenager for a long time, I identified with the heroines of these real stories and experienced with them moments in which I struggled with the labor of labor.
Until now, my idea of terminating pregnancy was based on stories of older friends heard in corners and was enriched with drastic scenes watched through fingers clenched on the face.
I associated the word POROD with terrible pain and hectoliters of blood. A newborn, screaming child always appeared in the world at the least expected moment, greeted by the scream of his suffering mother and his father fainting in the hall or under the hall. Suddenly I began to realize that soon I would become part of such a performance. Therefore, I had to prepare for it as best as possible.
Will you give birth to me, my love?
I started with the most important issue for me - I decided that I would not be alone in the delivery room, I wanted my husband to accompany me. I honestly admit that at the beginning the motives I followed were very childish and selfish. I assumed that since a man had his contribution in conception, contributed to the blessed state, there is no other possibility, he just has to be present in this crucial moment for our marriage.
In addition, I thought that he should see and hear my suffering that he must be a witness to my heroic deed, after all, it is unusual for a watermelon to squeeze through the needle's eye. With such incontrovertible arguments, as I thought at the time, I put my marriage before a fait accompli and did not want to hear any objection. To my surprise there was no outrage, scandal or outrage.
After some time, in the moment of reflection, I realized that maybe I was hurting him by imposing my will. After all, delivery can be a traumatic experience for him. Until recently, the man participated only in one birth - his own.
I wasn't in a comfortable situation where I could count on the company of a friend or mother during childbirth. About douls I didn't know much and none of my businesses were active. I was also not convinced that a private midwife would certainly be at my every call and thanks to a few green banknotes the delivery would be more tolerable. I also did not know which midwife I should hire, how to conduct a possible "casting" and whether a contract should be signed with its winner, and if so, what should it look like. I just didn't want to be alone at the birth of my child and I only imagined one person as my assistant, comforter, companion.
Although I had a scene in front of my eyes in which my husband faints he falls to the floor, and all medical staff hurries to save him, while in the torment I am giving birth to my first, long-awaited child alone, I gathered in myself and had a sincere conversation with my spouse. After long negotiations, we came to an agreement and we agreed that we would give birth together.
In the cinema, in a taxi or in a delivery room?
When I knew who I would be born with, eyelid sleep spent me a place where my child would be born. I live in a small town where a poviat hospital is located, and the gynecologist who managed my pregnancy is the head of the delivery room. I had full confidence in him, but I was worried that I might not have this luck and I would not be on his duty. I believed the gossip that circulated among my friends regarding the butcher prowling the delivery room, having no mercy for the women giving birth. I also wanted to provide my child with the best care, and in a crisis situation, the nearest intensive care unit for newborns was 35 km from my home ...
So I decided to make a list of pros and cons of delivery in a local hospital and in a larger city. I did not want to be one of the many women giving birth who is waiting in the corridor in the absence of places. I was afraid of an unknown place, strangers, doctors I had never seen before, and that I might not arrive on time. After all, I had my birth date scheduled for the end of November. I took into account adverse weather conditions, car breakdowns and the fact that if I forget something, I will have to run several times between home and hospital.
I asked my gynecologist about conditions in our delivery room. I learned that the room in which I will see my baby for the first time is adapted to two births taking place at the same time while maintaining the intimacy for each of the women. He also informed me about the possibility of making an appointment with a midwife who I could ask about things that I should take to the hospital with me.
Eventually I decided to give birth in my hospital.
Bag, suitcase or backpack? So holidays at the delivery room
I felt that it was appointed the date of delivery is only a conventional date and for sure my child will surprise me and we will get to know each other much sooner than we had planned. Confidently convinced of my sixth sense, in the 30th week of pregnancy I began to pack great. I knew that the maternity ward only provided clothes for newborn babies, I had to take care of the rest myself. I was aware that in addition to the standard hygiene kit, I had to get comfortable shirts that would allow me to breastfeed freely. I do not hide, I really wanted the baby to drink my milk and imagined a wave of wonderful feelings accompanying this phenomenon.
I could not imagine that I would come to the delivery room with a stuffed elegant suitcase like a real bourgeois, or shuffling my backpack like a brave girl scout. The travel bag was thoroughly filled and rested in a place of honor in the room, waiting for the right time.
Enema, shaving and a great cut
The closer the delivery was, the more questions were in my head. I almost fell out of my chair when I read that during a strong push by the way an unannounced poop may slip out. I think I would burn in shame if something like that happened to me. How to prevent this? Don't eat all day? Fasting for fear of a fragrant surprise? After all, it's inhuman, I wouldn't have the strength to deal with the pains of labor. And what is the probability of hitting a hunger strike on the day of delivery? This option seemed to me to make no sense. I decided to consult it with my gynecologist. The doctor explained to me that the best method, routinely used until recently in every maternity ward, is an enema. My face must have spoken for itself when I heard the doctor's suggestion. If I were brave, I could do such a procedure at home. To carry it out, the kit purchased at the pharmacy is sufficient. We will pay less than PLN 4 for the cheapest set. I recalculated the pros and cons and came to the conclusion that this temporary discomfort and another intimacy stripping me certainly is a better way out of dealing with the physiological need in the delivery chair.
In my mother's day, each woman giving birth was given a surgeon after being admitted to the unit shaving intimate places. It was related to maintaining hygiene and facilitated subsequent sewing. Currently, theoretically, it depends only on us women whether we agree to such a procedure or whether we ourselves take care of the comfortable appearance of those areas. In practice, however, it still varies ...
When it comes to sewing, unfortunately in most delivery rooms the patient is routinely inclined. Theoretically, everything depends on the course of delivery. We can ask the midwife to make every effort to protect the crotch from incision. Let's remember, however, that it is easier to stap and a cut wound heals less than a laceration that arose as a result of the skin being torn by a large child's head.
Give birth humanly
There were a lot of questions that I had to answer the next time I visited my gynecologist. However, at 34 weeks pregnant on one Wednesday evening, I was worried about the lack of baby movement. Although I was aware that the closer to delivery and as the baby grows, all the kicks will be less noticeable, depriving me of any stimuli by Maluszek scared me not to joke.
After telephone consultation with a gynecologist, I arrived at the ward, which I was only supposed to leave after the birth of my daughter. I would be lying if I wrote that I felt extremely comfortable being in the hospital. I missed my bed, computer and the presence of people close to me terribly.
After several CTGs and a gynecological examination I got an injection for my baby's alveolar development. Two days after arriving at the hospital I felt cramps. I accurately wrote down any disturbing signals that my body sent. However, their intensity was so meek that I did not get tired at the same time, nor did my hope for early labor increase. Also, the doctor who looked at the record of the study doubted that I could become a mother that day.
On the one hand, I was irritated by all the confusion, and on the other I was fed up with gravitation and wanted to have this "circus" behind me. In the end, the body calmed down, and with the onset of night I tried to fall into a restorative sleep. And then my husband beat me out of rhythm, who did not know if he could consume a fragrant pizza in the evening and drink his favorite beer or should be ready and wait on the phone. In short, he asked me if I intend to give birth to his daughter today.
I felt like a bull in the corrida and out of anger to the whole world I decided to bring the labor to an end. I had midwives under my breath, my gynecologist was on duty and the situation was under control. This suggestion was so strong that half an hour after midnight I felt an extremely strong fracture in the lower spine. My friend's words rang in my ear and advised me to walk as soon as I felt pain. Either I spread unpleasant feelings or I will speed up delivery. I did so too.
I decided to spare my roommates my moaning and slow, by the wall I walked through the hospital corridor. After a few minutes I met a midwife, surprised by my night walk. When I asked what I was doing, I answered that I wasn't sure, but I think I started giving birth.
I was led to duty rooms of midwiveswhere I found out that I have a two-finger gap. Then I asked if it really started ALREADY. When I heard the affirmative answer, I thought that maybe it was a false alarm, maybe something could be done and postponed it to tomorrow. I panicked.
The midwife showed me how should i breatheto help myself and the child. She brought me a sack. After an hour, which passed unusually quickly and did not manage to tire me, during the re-examination I already had a 4-finger opening and I could call my husband, who, as it turned out, would get a huge amount of penalty points for illegal delivery. When he answered the phone, he was convinced that I was joking and just checking his readiness. I knew by the voice that his face turned blank when I assured him quite seriously about advanced labor.
Not a quarter of an hour had passed since our conversation when I heard the bell at the entrance door to the maternity ward. But then I had no strength to get up from the bag. I had the impression that the child was trying to rip my skin and go out with my back.
At some point, I thought ask for anesthesia, for something that could relieve this feeling, but the midwife probably sensed my intentions and when I asked if I could lie down for a while, she assured me that I would see my daughter soon and I should let gravity work, which in this position positively affects delivery process.
What happened later I remember now as if by mist. I had the feeling that I left myself and watch a kneeling woman who rests her head on her husband's knees. I didn't want to shout, howl, swear. I was relieved by a purring. The sound of a hungry bear was coming out of me.
I remembered the story of my friend who during her delivery she screamed with all her might (which she was fully entitled to). Disgusted by her behavior, the head of a large maternity ward in a well-known city, entered the room and declared that the sounds that are coming out of my friend's mouth are inadequate to the pain he feels. I don't know how I'd acted in her place. Maybe I couldn't keep my nerves under control and she started crying. Perhaps my husband would have noticed the doctor because of inappropriate behavior, or I would just have it all because I would be too focused on my own experiences. One thing is certain, if the scream brings relief and helps overcome pain, it is not worth stopping and trying to pretend to be elegant in behavior, "as befits real ladies".
During the next examination the midwife pierced my bladder, and the waters were gushing out of me so quickly that I realized what was going on after a while. I honestly admit that it was not a pleasant feeling, but it lasted so short that it did not impress me much.
Then I was asked to passage to the delivery roomwhich was just outside the door. My husband helped me to sit down on an extremely comfortable and adaptable armchair. Suddenly a lot of people appeared around me. I had an IV drip and heard the pressure instructions for use. In an instant, the contractions stopped being felt. I didn't know what was going on. Only the firm voice of the doctor pulled me out of my lethargy and I caught up with reality. I slept exactly three times. In the meantime, the midwife made a quick cut with scissors. My husband standing behind me reminded me of proper breathing and announced that he could see the head. He was so overwhelmed that he forgot about his fear and participated with all his participation in the most important event for us. A moment later the stomach ostentatiously crunched, and my eyes appeared blue lump, which was immediately taken away and after the tests were transferred to the incubator, where it recovered for several hours.
When I gave birth, I felt all the pain disappear as if by magic. Suddenly I could hug and kiss the whole world. Pervasive happiness swept over me. I had deep respect that I was lying in an inelegant position among the bustling people. What mattered was that I just did a good job. When my husband looked over the shoulder of the doctor who was examining the daughter, my feeling of light weightlessness was disturbed only by the needle of the gynecologist, who, like a qualified tailor, darn a wound on my body. After finishing the work, I was congratulated. Freshly baked daddy tried to stop tears of emotion, and I, under the influence of oxytocin, was balancing between two worlds. And so in five to four from Friday to Saturday I became a mother.