It was a smoldering summer morning and everything was as per routine. The holy month of Ramzan was ongoing. I was in my 38th week of pregnancy. The hot weather and the hormonal imbalance had already tired me by the time I reached my workplace, which was a mere seven-minute drive away from my house. I had an official event – a launch of an exclusive IEC material – planned for that day for which we had been preparing for a month now but, unfortunately, it was postponed by the donor due to some unavoidable circumstances. I had been working on this leave-behind material for the past year and so, after a month full of hyperactivity, it was a slow day for me. And I welcomed the leisure that day.
In the evening at home, like how it had been for some time now, my husband and I were busy deliberating over what it would be like when the baby comes; what adjustments will we welcome and which ones would take us time to settle with. And which ones would be really difficult to take on. This discussion went on till 6:30pm, after which I decided to take a shower and get ready. It was my nephew’s birthday that day (he was turning 10) and we were going to my parents’ for an iftar – breaking fast – party.
While showering, I noticed a ‘bloody show’, which usually means that you are on the right path to labor and delivery. My husband and I had recently read about it, so I wasn’t very concerned. Afterwards, I felt water leaking as well but, since I had read that it is going to be gushing water, I didn’t pay much attention. I discussed the situation with my husband and we decided to carry on with the plan. Thus, we were on our way to my parents’ house.
It was at their home when I first started experiencing short but strong pains. I didn’t want to worry everyone so I kept going. However, after an hour or so, I realized that I couldn’t carry on like this and told my mom and sister to be prepared for the call during the night, and my husband and I left for home around 10pm. The pains kept coming back and made me really uneasy.
Now, before we move further, you should know something about me: I am someone who is not very good at handling physical pain. I have always been very loud about it and have pampered even the smallest of cuts, burns and bruises for days; sometimes weeks. So, understandably, this was not turning out to be a pleasant experience for me.
The water kept leaking, the pain kept coming back and the anticipation of the pain kept me hyperventilating. My husband asked if we should go to hospital immediately but having read that the intensity and duration of pain will increase while the gaps between the two pains decrease, I told him not now and asked him to sleep – which he conveniently did. So I screamed and punched and pinched the pillow through the night while my husband slept.
By 7:30am, I was exhausted and done with the pain. It was now coming with five-minute intervals. I woke my husband up and told him “It’s time. Let’s go to the hospital”. He woke up in a panic and got ready quickly. We were on our way to the hospital by 8am. I had already emailed my doctor that I was en route, so that she could put out instructions for my arrival.
(This is the second part of a five-post series in which I am sharing my experience of achieving motherhood.)