Have you ever planned a holiday to some exotic location?
Your tickets are booked. You’re busily reading everything you can get your
hands on about your dream destination. You daydream. You fantasize. You imagine
what it will be like to be somewhere you’ve never been before – to hear a
different language, make an attempt to speak the language, to try different
food and to experience a different culture. You’ve talked to your friends who
been there before you and gotten their advice about the hot spots, the do’s,
the dont’s. You’re pumped. Suitcase is packed. You’ve got your passport, your
ticket and your hopes and dreams are pinned on this adventure of a lifetime.
You are filled with anticipation, hope, excitement and curiosity.
There are some things in life you just can’t prepare for. It
doesn't matter how much you research or how many books you read or how many other
people you talk to who have been through the same experience, you just can’t
prepare for becoming a mother. You also can’t walk down the street pregnant
without a stranger offering some random advice and throwing in their two cents
about what’s right and what’s wrong when it comes to motherhood and childbirth.
No two birthing experiences are ever the same. We are all
unique as individuals, our bodies built perfectly for us. The birthing manuals
can’t possibly cover it all. Well if they did, it would probably be a 24-volume
encyclopedia version, and what mum-to-be has time to read that while she’s
busy preparing for the arrival of her precious bundle. That same precious
bundle that’s destined to turn her life and her world upside down and inside
out, and not just during the birthing process, but potentially for the next 18
years or so as the bundle goes through the various stages of development and growth.
No book or conversation I had with anyone around pregnancy,
motherhood or giving birth could have possibly prepared me for the experience I
encountered when my beautiful girl came into this world 4 years ago. I was
ready for her. I had wanted children for a very long time. I had natural
maternal instincts. I believed that motherhood was my destiny and my future
would see me as a stay-at-home mum raising a brood. My pregnancy was like a
dream. No morning sickness for me. Everything was like clockwork, all according
to the books and magazines ( the couple that I read) !
I remember at my 37-week check up with my GP, she told me
that baby’s head was engaged and we were ready to go. I also remember at my
38-week check up with the new, young obstetrician at the hospital that he had
some doubt as to whether or not the head was in fact engaged. At the time I
laughed at him, mainly because :
a)
He was young and male
b)
I trusted my female GP implicitly
For whatever reason, he eventually concluded that things
were as they should be and sent me home to wait out our impending, and
much-anticipated arrival.
So I did. Everything was washed. Everything was set up.
Everything was ready to go. All we needed was our baby. At ten past midnight on
my due date, my waters broke. Off to the hospital we went. I had no labour
pains at this stage and when the nurse checked me out at hospital she was going
to send me down to the ward to see if anything was going to happen, except
there weren’t any spare beds. There was
however a vacant birthing suite, so off we went to “see what happened”.
At 5.30am, I turned to my partner and told him I was ready
to push and to find a midwife, they’d been few and far between. He looked at me
like I was some crazy woman, but off he went nonetheless. When he returned with
the midwife, she gave me the same crazy look, said she’d check things out to
see what was going on. She confirmed
that I was indeed ready to push.
Nothing I had read, heard or talked about prepared me for
what was to come. After some pushing it was confirmed that my baby was in the
breech position. I was offered a c-section or to keep pushing to have a natural
birth. My partner chose the second option, as I’d expressed my beliefs around
c-sections. It was only to happen if it became a life or death situation.
Pushing again and passing the time limit,
without a baby, I was told that I hadn’t gotten very far, despite the midwives
having convinced me I was about to give birth any minute.
I was whisked down to theatre for an emergency c-section,
one leg hanging in the air as I was wheeled through the corridors and into the
lift. In theatre, I was awake and conscious of what was going on. I don’t
remember much of the actual process. I recall some tugging at my stomach and
the doctor pulling our baby out and taking her to the observation table. A reassuring cry came from our baby. The
doctor came over, without telling us if we’d had a boy or girl (we were leaving
it as a surprise), to inform us that there was something wrong with the baby’s
leg and they’d need to investigate.
In that moment, I told myself that I was a failure. I wasn’t
even good enough to get making a child right. I carried that with me for a very
long time! It was all my fault. I was a failure. I wasn’t good enough. I was so
disappointed in myself and felt like I’d let my partner down. I took that one
moment and made it mean the end of the world in my mind. I could have chosen to
be grateful for the fact that my child was otherwise healthy and well. After
all, all of her limbs were intact and she was perfect in every way.
As humans, we tend to focus on the tiny negative aspect,
rather than the more abundant positives that surround us. Focussing on the
negative is to our detriment. I didn’t know any better at the time! I do now and
so make conscious choices on a daily basis to be grateful, to focus on the
positives, to live in the moment and to appreciate the little things. There is
no guidebook for life. There is no rule book set in stone. Life is for living.
Life is for making mistakes. Life is for breaking and bending the rules. Life
is for figuring it out. Life is for making it happen. Lighten up. Live in the
moment. Love your life for who you are and the experiences that have shaped the
wonderful person you are today.
