The girl in the yellow blanket
‘Is the baby with her father, sister?’ I asked the nurse who was busy rustling paper behind the curtains. I am not sure if she heard me. They had wheeled me into a room called recovery room. I thought I would be taken straight to my room after the delivery. But that doesn’t seem to be the case.
‘You will be here for two hours, in observation. After that, we will shift you to your room’. The nurse said, fixing the pillow under my head. ‘Any pain or discomfort anywhere?’ She asks me.
I nod my head. I still can’t feel my torso. The anesthesia hasn’t worn off. Not yet.
It all has happened so fast. I was unable to dilate for the delivery today. They had induced me twice but my body didn’t seem to budge. I had finished the 40th week of pregnancy with no signs of going into labor. There were no contractions whatsoever. I was getting impatient with all the waiting. A bit anxious as well. Why don’t I have any contractions? Is everything alright with my baby?
My doctor suggested that I should wait for another two to three days. If I don’t go into labor by then, they will have me induced.
Three days later, I was admitted to the hospital. They induced me twice but I wasn’t dilating. And then I asked for a C-section.
I have faint memories of being inside of the OT. There was a baby crying, out loud. I remember thinking at that moment, the high pitch cries that this baby has, it has to be a baby girl.
I was not shown my baby for some reason. Whether it was the protocol or that’s how it was supposed to be, I don’t know. The doctors didn’t say anything to me.
I only remember the husband caressing my face, telling me that it’s a baby girl. He was supposed to be there inside of the OT, to cut the umbilical cord.
A shrill cry of a baby goes in the air. The recovery room is very big, from what I have understood. There are lots of beds on my left and right. They have these huge green curtains at a distance from my feet. There’s nobody else in the room except for me and the nurse.
‘Sister, where is my daughter? With her father?’ I asked her again, a little louder than before.
‘Oh, no, she is here only. You have to feed her first no?’ She says from behind the curtains. I almost forgot that I needed to feed her. I am a first-time mother you see, these things are new to me.
‘See, I took her footprints on this booklet, that’s why she is crying’, The nurse smiles as she shows me the vaccination booklet in her hand. She is a petite woman in her late twenties, dressed in a pink uniform from head to toe.
‘Can you bring her here sister? I haven’t seen her face since she is born’. We haven’t met yet, I wanted to say but my voice trails off.
The nurse goes back and appears from behind the curtains with a yellow bundle in her hand. It’s a baby wrapped in a yellow blanket. She puts the baby on my chest and instructs me to feed her.
The little one latches to me instantly without any support. She knows what she needs to do to feed herself. The nurse seems to be impressed.
I lay there for the next twenty minutes as the baby feeds herself. I still haven’t seen her face and a part of me is impatient. I am not supposed to sit upright, not until the effects of anesthesia wear off.
The baby cries again. The nurse came running from behind the curtains. The little one was done feeding. The nurse takes the baby off my chest.
‘Sister, can you tilt her a bit, show me her face?’ I asked her again.
‘Yes, yes,’ she says, coming close to my face. She bends a bit and tilts her arms carefully.
And there she was, pink in all its glory, releasing the biggest yawn that she is capable of. I know it’s going to take a while for us to get to know each other, but for now, welcome to the world, my baby girl!
P.S: I wrote the original blog post for momspresso last year. You can read the blog post here.