2ND TIME ROUND PART TWO....

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This is part two of my pregnancy series. You can recap here.

After a long agonizing wait for the ultrasound "doctor"/operator to show up, I was lying on the bed summoning all my prayerful ancestors to intercede on my behalf. I still don't know why the hospitals I have been to have a specific ultrasound guy and coincidentally he is never in the hospital until after numerous phone calls. This specific one was called Kevo. There is something about Kevos. I arrived at the hospital at about 1.00pm. Kevo finally casually showed up at 3.00pm.

 I took a minute to take in that high narrow bed in front of me.I had to take a deep breath when I had to climb up a step to get onto the bed. I finally made it and lay on my left side. It was a little less painful this way. Kevo looked at me and asked me to lie on my back. Oh please, as if this was my first ultrasound. I knew I had to lie on my back but I was not going to painfully chill as he prepared. I would turn when he was standing over me with the hovering pad and the cold gel. I let him know this of course.

When he was ready, he began doing his thing. I felt like my bladder would give in and let out. Kevo was pressing the hovering pad on my body at the exact point where the pain was the most. As I was trying to hold back tears, he was simultaneously trying to show me how my baby lay and what was causing the pain. I don't remember which part of his body was pressed on my stomach but my baby was lying funny. After an agonizing few minutes, Kevo was done. However, just before he concluded, I asked to know the gender of the baby. I had been praying for a girl you see. Kevo happily announced," Ni ndume huyu!" 

Those were his exact words. This was to be expected. My mother in law bore four sons. All my husband's uncles have more boy children than girls.By this I mean, an average of 2:1 in favor of the boys. Getting a girl was considered a miracle albeit a very happy one. My husband on the other hand was elated when I told him the news. He had secretly been scared of raising a girl although if you ask me, he would have been just a great a father to a girl as he is to our boys. With that news and a bagful of paracetamol tablets, I was dispatched. This time though I treated mama Safi and me to an uber ride. I was physically unable to walk all the way to the bus station.

The pain persisted for the next three days. After that, it went away just as swiftly as it has made its way into my life. I was glad it was gone. I did not wish that pain on anyone whether pregnant or not. I contemplated getting another ultrasound to check whether my baby had turned but ruled against it since I had elected to have a  C-section anyway.  As soon as I was able to walk on my own, I decided to go to Kasarani Maternity hospital to book a date for the surgery. This is the hospital I had chosen to deliver my baby in. As I walked the same route I had taken a few weeks earlier, many people were surprised to see me still pregnant. The brave ones subtly asked." Safari bado?" To which I replied, "Bado." Offering no details. After all, it was none of their business.

I met with the surgeon who would be handling my case. He took a look at my file and told me that I was a candidate for a C-Section delivery by default. This was because of how I was created. I was physically incapable of vaginal delivery. Something about my bone structure. I felt relieved. At least I had an answer to give anyone who felt like judging my decision to elect a C-Section delivery. Again, not that it was their business but there is a group of people who respect demands that you offer a satisfactory explanation for "dangerous and unnecessary decisions" you make. (People like parents for example). We set a date for 3rd August.

I was finally on my last leg of pregnancy. It was a good month. I felt good. I was no longer sick. I woke up early and in high spirits. Later, my friends would tell me that I looked pitifully tired. If I did, I did not feel that way. My baby had now increased his kicks to three or four times a day. I know this still sounds low but we were up from two times a day. He would kick at 12.00pm and at 3.30 am. Apparently, some babies just do not bother themselves with the exercise.

It was a relatively sunny Friday morning. I had dispatched my son to school. I was just lying on my sofa maybe browsing through my phone when I felt something wet ' down there '. I knew. In my heart of heart, I knew. It was time. Still, I googled. Uncle Google told me that sometimes the water broke many hours before the baby came or before the onset of labor pains-I was not in any pain-. So, I did not panic, I went to the loo and urinated just in case my bladder was under a lot of pressure. I came back to my sofa and there it was again. I did not consult google this time, instead, I made my own arrangements. 

I decided to eat a heavy meal as I awaited the dance of birth. This dance requires energy even though you are advised against eating. I had not yet had breakfast that morning and if I required surgery, I would not be able to eat for at least six to eight hours afterward. I went to the shop. My water was now dripping. I bought some eggs. I came back and made ugali- traditional veggies-eggs. Still, no pain. So, I ate. It was now noon. I had first felt the wetness at around 10.00am. I began to worry.

After my meal, I cleaned up, put on a fresh pad, picked up some stuff from my hospital bag just in case I was getting a baby that day. I called my husband to narrate my experience. Then I called my mum. She was concerned that I was in a matatu. Labor pains had not set in. I was fine. I went to the hospital and after explaining my situation I was admitted immediately. Not only was I admitted but I was booked for emergency C-Section that evening. Boy was I glad that I had packed my charger.  I sat on my bed awaiting the preparations. I had not experienced even the slightest iota of pain. It was like my baby was rewarding me for the agony he had put me through earlier. Also, I had been through a C-Section before. 

I called my husband to inform him that our baby was on his way. He is my best friend. I can count on him to be there when it matters. He is the only friend I can ask for help without feeling like he is the last resort. I wanted him present for the birth of our son. Unfortunately, he did not make it, thanks to Nairobi's traffic. Before you roll your eyes, our son had checked in seven days prior to my scheduled delivery date. This meant that the husband was at work. He missed the delivery by a few minutes. He came just as I was being wheeled to the recovery room.

I was in upbeat spirits even as I changed into my pink hospital gown and the saline water was injected into my body. My hospital mate was a sixth-time mum who was terrified to the death of the procedure. All her five previous births had been smooth vaginal births. This was her first surgery. I kept reassuring her that it would be okay. Since I was my own birth partner, I prayed that all would be well as I walked to the theater. Everyone was ready for me. I climbed onto the bed and assumed a relaxed yoga pause. I had asked for full-body anesthesia which the surgeon declined. So I curled as they inserted the anesthetic that would numb half of my body into my spinal disc. Then I lay down and positioned my arms like Jesus on the cross. What a position to assume since, on that table, you are literally birthing new life just as Jesus did. The anesthetist dared me to lift my leg as a check to see if the anesthetic had taken effect. I could not. My vitals were marked, after which the surgeon explained the procedure and began his work on me. I chatted with the anesthetist as the doctor worked around introducing my baby into my world. 

I heard him cry.

The nurse in-charge brought him around to my face and I confirmed it was a boy. (I had still been holding out hope that maybe the ultrasound had been wrong). I also immediately noticed that he was a spitting image of my father-in-law. As the surgeon worked to stitch me up, the nurse announced that my son was 2.9kgs. I had expected bigger. I am secretly afraid of extremely tiny babies. Oh, but my son had been determined to teach me new things from the very beginning. I was then wheeled to recovery and my sleeping baby handed to me. 

When my husband held his son in his arms for the first time, he had on his "This is nice" smile. It was a precious moment. I had dreamed about this moment for a long time.

I thanked God for safe surgery. Many mothers lie on that bed and never hear their baby cry. Many husbands/ fathers/ boyfriends sit outside the theater and do not take their loved ones to the recovery room. I was blessed and favored. Many women lie on that bed to remove dead embryos from their womb. My heart goes out to you. may God remember you. May God give you laughter for your tears. May God restore.

I was so happy my best friend was with me. Many women go through this process completely alone. I am sorry.

The gift of a baby is special. It is not an exaggeration. I feel so sad for the mothers who do not have this love. I pray that you seek help so that this gift is not a symbol of pain but one of hope.

My son was born at 6.30 pm on 26th July weighing 2.9kg. I stayed awake till 4.00 am, then " kulea" began. " Kuzaa sio Kazi", Kazi ni kulea.( the real task is not in delivery but in raising  the child.)