Posted in Fateena, The Family

The Birth Story

I have been meaning to write about Fateena’s birth since I got back from the hospital. Takes me almost two months to do so because my brain just isn’t that organised anymore. Sad but true. Other things have been written and overwrite this one. Anyway… (brace yourselves, for this is gonna be a long one)

The last check up I went, the one where I was tested positive for GBS, I thought of getting admitted but the doctor refused. So home I went, had lunch and a little nap before I scooted off to my night class. Yes, heavily pregnant at 38 weeks and they still wouldn’t let me off.

At about 1 hour before the class ended, I felt tightness around the bump. I was still cool cause I thought they were just another episode of braxton hicks. When the second wave came 20 minutes later, I got a little anxious and noted the time. And then came another. 20 minutes apart.

Lucky me, the class ended earlier. With the phone in my hand, I waited at the school’s porch for hubby and taking down the frequency of the tightness. I was still not sure if it was braxton hicks or contractions. Silly, yes.

In the car, I told hubby about what happened and he just said, “ok, so how?” I just shrugged cause I didn’t exactly know what to do. I just showed him the times I wrote down.

Once we were home, I washed up and changed into my pj. Fateha was getting ready to sleep so I tucked her in. While in the bed with her, I kept staring at the clock on the wall. There it went again. I felt that same tightness, though really painful. My eyes were fixed on the clock, a few more waves occured at less than 10 minutes apart.

I got out to join hubby watching the telly for a while and went into the loo cause I felt like taking a crap. While on the throne, I realised that it could be it since nothing came outta me. I gasped when I saw a little tiny streak of blood on my liner.

Got out and told hubby. He got frustrated because I kept saying I wasn’t sure. So I decided to call the delivery suite. The waves of tightness were still occuring, every 7 minutes. Then the midwife, over the phone, convinced me that I was having contractions and to get my butt to the hospital ASAP.

In a flash hubby and I changed, and grabbed my hospital bag. Out of the house we went, leaving Fateha with the helper.



Amazingly, I got into the same suite I had with Fateha and the same midwives too. And they recognized me! Along came a lady doctor who probed and poked me like a ragdoll. I was already 6cm dilated. Woah! By that time the contractions was getting stronger and painful.

Painkiller options were the usuals; epidural, local anaesthetics or gas. In all of my sillyness, I opted for the gas. Too much of watching birth videos saying that our bodies were made for this, no need for epidural. And inhaling too much of the gas, my whole face went numb. Groaning in pain with a numb face was hilarious.


The fluid antibiotic was inserted and it felt cool. The fluid I mean, not the poking. With the antibiotic running through my bloodstream, I had to hold my urge to deliver for 4 hours. Time checked: 12.10 midnight.

Obviously, I was in so much of pain and the thought of holding it for 4 hours was killing me. Like a mad mare I was on the bed, kicking the blanket away. If I could, I would kick the doctor who kept telling me, “wait, ya, don’t push.”

A nurse came and gave me the gas mask. Hubby shoved it on my face because I was already tossing and turning and grabbing the bedsheet. After I was confirmed the length of my dilation, 7cm, I felt very itchy down my southern region. That was when I realised I had drug allergy. Hahah! It was the obstetrics cream the doctor used on me.

The experience of holding it altogether and not to birth right away was driving me nuts. I kept looking at the clock and it was not even an hour past. Tried sleeping but the mission was futile. Rang the call-bell and asked the doctor to give me epidural. LMAO! Serve me right.

I was turned down of course. “No I can’t administer it. You cannot keep still already. If you can sit still, I will try but there is not enough time left.”

Hubby’s arm was twisted left and right from my crazy ass grips. It was already 3am and would give birth soon so I decided to take things in my own hand. Push, I did. Was scolded by hubby, of course, and he called the doctor.

“Don’t push! Don’t push! You don’t want your baby to get infections.” Boy, did I listen? Hahah, no. I was in terrible pain and the gas wasn’t helping. I was still 7cm opened, not much progress.

4am: 8cm
5am: 9cm (they burst the waterbag)
6am: 8cm

The team couldn’t believe that my cervix went back to 8cm when I was closed to delivering the baby. They found my cervix swollen. My favourite midwife came, put on the latex gloves and felt my cervix. She discussed with the doctor on what should be done. Funny, wasn’t that the doctor’s job?

I had to push as hard as I could. This was what people said, giving birth is like battling with death and fighting for your life.

“Can feel the head but it’s not progressing. The cervix is swollen.” I asked a no-brainer question; for me to have a c-sect. Turned down, yet again.

The midwife decided that she had to insert her fingers in to push my cervix open. And then the whole delivery team, together with hubby, went “PUSH! PUSH! SOME MORE! HARDER!”

In between a couple of breaths, I felt the ring of fire and it was horrible. With lots of encouragement from hubby and that midwife, I pushed the head out and I felt it popped. One more push in ten counts, my baby was out and immediately she was wailing.

She was handed over to me in the green cloth and the first thing I said to her, “you naughty girl, you!” My midwife was laughing at me and assumed that I was only kidding. Of course I was.


With an APGAR scale of 9, she was sure looking healthy and fine. They checked her for any infection she might have gotten from me and thank Allah, she hadn’t. Phew!

And now, 8 weeks after her birth, she seems like a fine little lady. Putting on weight well, seeing and hearing well too. Growing at 50th percentile, the last we checked.


Her appetite is so good that it makes me feel like a zombified human cow. Waking up almost every hour at night for milk. I hope her sleeping and feeding pattern will be better and not waking me up so frequently.

Please baby girl, I wish you’d be like your sister. She slept through the night and not waking to be fed at all.

Your Zombie Mom

Posted from WordPress for Android


a wife, a mother, an anxious-for-no-reason person and a pure lazy bum.

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