Wednesday, August 2, 2017

Thirdy's Birth Story



After I learned I was pregnant with Thirdy, I doc-shopped for an OB-gynecologist. I went to 4 female doctors (all 40 and above) before I finally settled on the 4th one, not so much because I was comfortable with her but because she was highly recommended by my husband's cousin.

Even from the beginning, I wanted to do two things for Thirdy: 1) to bring him out to the world naturally, meaning through vaginal birth, and 2) to exclusively breastfeed him for the first 6 months of his life.

My due date was August 3, 2015. By the night of August 1, I did my obligatory trip to the toilet before hitting the sack, and I was alarmed to see a 'bloody show' when I wiped off. But I was not in any pain yet. My husband, mother, and I hurriedly went to West Visayas State University Medical Center. It was my hospital of choice because I was an employee of the university, and it was just a stone's throw away from our place. The OB on duty did an 'IE' on me. After which, she held up her blood coated fingers and asked, "Amu ni?" I just nodded my head. She told me I won't be giving birth yet as I am not dilated enough. I either have to go home or wait for a room to be available, so we could be accommodated in case my time comes. We decided to do the former and had a room booked. But when we got to the car, my husband declared that we're not going back there. He was angry that he was asked to buy Vaseline and gloves for the IE. Why can't they just use their supplies first then we pay them up after? I said it's a government hospital, what do you expect? So, we decided to just go to Medical City once I start going through labor.

Early morning the next day, August 2, which was a Sunday, we did a bit of walking at Esplanade. I figured that I need to get moving and build my stamina and endurance before labor comes. We attended Mass at St. Clement's after, and that was when I felt a steady beat of tolerable pain that would come in every 10 minutes or so. I didn't mind it and even ate a hearty lunch at my in-laws in Gran Plains. By 2 PM, the pain was gaining in frequency, but I could still do a bit of exercise and laugh with my family. My husband timed the pain, and when he consulted his female cousins about it, he was told to go the hospital right away because those were labor pains already. So we rushed to Medical City by 3 PM, only stopping by at our place to get my stuff, and there I was stationed at the ER.

After an hour or so, I was wheeled to the labor room. I was still able to eat my dinner even with the pain, and my doctor said I didn't look as if I was going to give birth. I beamed at that. I was proud of myself. The pain was chicken feed that at one point, I told myself that going through labor is not that tough at all. Why women opt to have an epidural and selective Caesarean section was beyond me. I was cocky to say to give me labor anytime of the day.

But by 9 PM, the pain was coming in waves each bigger and fearsome than the other. I felt as if my stomach was on fire. I did everything to help me drench the fire: walked around the room, did some leg exercises, talked to the nurse, lie down, read and memorized the medicines in the cabinet, opened and closed the door that divided the delivery room from the labor room (from which I was scolded).

By 11 PM, I was becoming scared. The pain was no longer tolerable. My bag of water burst. I was wet all over, and the midwife on duty helped me change. It was then I understood why women would ask for epidural, why they would curse their husbands and throw invectives at anyone on sight during their labor, why they'd rather go through CS... I understood. The pain was like no other I have experienced.

By 1 AM of August 3, I was wheeled to the delivery room. My legs were placed on stirrups and my nether region was spotlighted. I was so tired already, but I was asked to do a more tedious work: the pushing. I pushed and pushed for an hour or so, but there was no progress. There was something wrong with my pushing: they would ask me to hold the push for 10 seconds, but I would stop at 6 or 7. Thirdy's head was not showing. My OB told me that she has now indications for a Caesarean procedure. She asked me if that was fine. They started dressing me and cleaning me up for the surgery, but I was tight-lipped. I did not want to answer. I wanted to still go through the normal delivery but I was also torn because I was dead tired, and I just wanted to get it over with. CS was the easy way, but I didn't say anything to the Doc.

So they called my husband to come. There I was in all my naked glory squirming in pain, and the OB and my husband were just a matter-of-factly discussing the options in front of me. When they were finished, I was expecting my husband to give her the green light for the CS, but to my surprise, he cheered me on while I was pushing. He kept shouting, "Kaya mo yan, Ga!" I was so angry at him that I was strangling him in my head. I didn't want to say anything because that would mean another minus from my strength. But his cheering probably did help. After 30 minutes, Thirdy's head crowned, and my husband was ushered from the delivery room. It went easy from there. I pushed for 15 minutes more and I remember as if my whole being opened up when Thirdy came out from me. I also remember that when I was pushing, I felt as if all the mothers in the world from generations past were with me, sharing my pain. At the same time, there was that feeling of honor to be the one to give life to another human being. In the midst of pushing, I felt a certain kinship and connection with all women. The pain of childbirth is the lot that we have to all go through, the women it seems were telling me. If I were not in pain, I'd probably have goosebumps all over my body. I'd say that birthing is also a metaphysical experience.

So, at 3:30 AM of August 3, 2015, I gave birth to Thirdy through a vaginal delivery, and we did the Unang Yakap, which is a breastfeeding drive to encourage newborns to latch right away. Thirdy successfully latched, and I was able to exclusively breastfeed him for the first 6 months of his life.

I got what I wanted.

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