My Experience in a Delivery Room
It was not just any other visit to the hospital for regular check up. It was an emergency; a sinking feeling of suffering alone. My contractions began at 4 in the morning and I thought that this pain would kill me. Those 2 hours of excruciating labour made me revisit my 9 months’ journey with my yet-to- be-born child and encouraged me to live for the fruit of my efforts. From the day I thought to plan for a family to the day I got a positive pregnancy test result; from proudly completing first 3 months without much trouble to suddenly getting chickenpox at its edge; from safely carrying my baby in my womb post that disease to falling from stairs during the 8th month – it was a roller coaster ride for the two of us.
I had to push harder to bring a new life into this world and to be born to myself. I wanted to be pampered just like other pregnant ladies were; I wanted someone to satisfy my cravings just like a queen’s order is obeyed immediately. However, nobody pampered me. I rather felt unwanted. I cried, regretted, and toiled. “Why did I plan to conceive?” I rebuked myself.
“Will I be a good mother?”
“What if anything goes wrong?”
“Was this decision too abrupt?”
All these doubts constantly haunted me as ghosts of my past.
One day, I told myself to learn to live for my child and pamper him/her instead of trying to be an attention seeker. Time went by and I took the charge. I was in my parents’ house. I drove alone to the hospital for routine check-ups and battled in that labour room. I was weak and scared. I begged for a c-section. All of a sudden, I decided to put all my strength and push the baby out. As I tried to save my life and relieve my pain, something catastrophic happened. The moment I went into labour and thought my baby’s sufferings in the womb would come to an end, the ordeal ended in the blink of an eye. It was all about my decision at the right time.
With that, my old poor self died, and I was born again as a mother – to live for my child.
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