It was hard for me to come up with presenting this idea but I guess I didn’t play any part in pre-delivery stage of my sister. Not that I am capable of playing any worth while part or I was expected to play during or post her pregnancy but then again she is my sister and she is capable of finding faults in me even if I am in best of my standing. What gave me this idea was mere fact she likes talking and if she doesn’t have anything worthwhile then she likes hitting it out on me.
This was narrated by her and dedicated to her 2 little devils who think I am a hit me toy.
Twins I hoped in my wildest dreams, twins it was going to be. The fateful day of childbirth arrived in August. Sure I was two weeks early but I knew the instant the first contraction hit that the time had arrived. I was in COMPLETE control. I had everything buttoned up at work, I had the whole birth planned out, I even had a pen and paper next to the bed. .The pen and paper quickly went to use recording every single contraction, its strength, length and time of day. I was on a mission. I even recorded bowel movements so I could proudly show my doctor how organized I was. It all started at midnight and I lovingly let my husband sleep through the night so that he wouldn't have an exhausting day. I can’t wake up my mother sleeping in next room without waking the entire neighborhood nor can I call my insolent & incompetent brother who is never there when needed. I didn't need anyone; I had my pen, paper, and images of a perfect birth that couldn't be sidelined by even the greatest obstacles. It was all planned. I was going drug free and in a tub. After all, I have the pain threshold of a hardened Indian girl and all the research said that there was nothing more natural for a newborn than to come into this world in a bath of warm water. Made sense to me. I like water, and if I had been breathing some form of water like substance for a number of months, I might just like to hang onto that for a few minutes longer.
So by noon things had heated up a little bit. Yes, I said noon. That's TWELVE hours later if you can understand. Twelve hours of pacing, wincing, writing, and pooping. I was starting to get a little annoyed actually and decided to hit the hospital to see if we could move things along a little bit. Well they were no help at all. Turns out I wasn't even dilating, and despite the fact that the pain was getting worse, my cervix was remaining tightly shut. I was starting to wish it had been so accommodating nine months earlier.
To add insult to injury, and due to incredibly poor judgment on my part, I had the constant support of not only my husband in the birth room, but my mother as well. I mean, who wants their mother to see them completely naked and in incredible pain for hours on end. I’m not exactly sure what I was thinking when I invited her in three months earlier, but back then I was glowing, happy and excited, eager to embrace, and share, the gift of childbirth as I swiftly and painlessly popped the cork that would later be called my son. Sure, things weren't going exactly as planned, but one thing you will learn quickly about me and Ashraf’s in general: We are a stubborn bunch. You never second guess your decisions, and never show signs of weakness. It’s an inherent trait, all in our family have it, its just a little more intense for some. So three hours after checking in, I’m in the tub and the pain is getting intense. The doctor states boldly, let me know if you want any painkillers its still not too late. "Too late" should have been a red flag in my head, and any normal person at this point would have begged for some kind of morphine drip or a bat to the head, but not me. I can handle this, I am a strong woman, pain is for sissies.
Around dinner time, after I decided that screaming was indeed an acceptable way to deal with the situation, we determined a couple of things. The tub idea was a joke and my threshold for pain wasn't nearly as high as I thought originally. Problem? I passed the drug window. Once I finally broke down and pleaded with the doctors to give me drugs, they refused. Apparently there's some sort of danger involved to the baby if administered after a certain time. Hence the "too late" statement. Now, clearly I don't want anything bad happening to my babies, but at that particular point in time, I couldn't have cared less.
Picture a 27 year old woman, standing in the middle of a hospital room screaming at her mother, husband and several hospital employees, where the only shred of dignity left is in the form of a hospital scarf that is secured around her neck. That's it. It’s hanging on me like a bib, bottom exposed, breasts hanging out, but somehow I think having this thing tied around my neck is making me look almost respectable. Not likely. But I didn't care at the time. All I wanted was that baby out of me. Period. The last thing I was worried about frankly were my kids being born with a buzz.
But eventually Ajuj(Gog) was born, drug free, a mere 24 hours and 18 minutes after the first contraction and Majuj(Magog) followed after 5 minute gap. One full day of excruciating pain and bad decisions that ended with me holding a double six pound alien in both my arms, complete with the cone head you read about in the medical journals.
But in conclusion, if you only take two things away from this, make it these:
1. When a physician offers you drugs when you're in pain, take them. And if you can, stockpile some extra for friends.
2. if someone ever says to you that you'll forget the pain of childbirth as soon as its over, remember these wise words from an honest mom. They are FULL OF SHIT.
When I met her after her fabulous maternity ward stunt and enquired about her pain she asked me to try shitting 2 Watermelons to understand it.
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