Everyone Knew I Was in Labour Except Me!

By 37 weeks pregnant, I had started disappointing my mother on a daily basis…Every morning, I would walk out of my room smiling after a good night’s sleep.

My mother would take one look at me, one look at my still-present baby bump, and sigh.

“The baby is still not out?”

Both my mum and MIL had already made up their minds that I would deliver early. Their conclusion was based on limited sample involving a few relatives, some neighbours, and other people they knew who had delivered before their due dates.

Why so much kangaru (hurry in telugu) they had!

After 37 weeks, I started getting Braxton Hicks contractions almost every day. Every night, I would make painful faces and announce that this might be it.

Every morning, I would wake up perfectly fine. Eventually, I learned to ignore them.

So on the night of August 17th, when I was 39 weeks pregnant and uncomfortable all night, I naturally assumed it was Braxton Hicks again.

I spent most of the night awake, cursing the pain in Telugu…at around 7:30 in the morning, Mr. R had finally had enough…“Let’s go to the hospital.”

“It’s probably fake pain,” I replied.

Now, people who know me well know that I have legendary levels of kangaru. Yet somehow, on the one day I should have panicked, I decided I was going to stay calm. 😛

Instead of getting ready, I opened my laptop.

If this was actually labour, there was one important thing I needed to verify…The maternity bag…for the third time.

I opened an Excel sheet and started checking whether everything was still packed.

My husband stared at me for a few seconds, closed the laptop, and told me to get ready…the pain, meanwhile, was getting worse.

I took a quick hot shower.

When I came out, I found my husband flossing his teeth…I completely lost it.I shouted, loudly.

“I didn’t want you to feel bad if I had bad breath,” he explained.

I didn’t know whether to feel angry or touched. One of us had to be sensible, and apparently it wasn’t going to be me.

By the time we got into the car, my contractions were about four minutes apart. The pain was unbearable.

And of course, the hospital I had chosen was located along one of the busiest routes in Hyderabad. The drive took nearly 50 minutes.

Every few minutes another contraction would hit and I’d grip the seat wondering how people voluntarily did this more than once.

Meanwhile, Mr. R was trying very hard to be supportive. “Breathe out slowly.” “Phooooo…”.“Relax.“Phooooo…”

The moment I entered the labour ward, I begged…Epidural!

The nurse informed me that they first needed to check my vitals. A little later, she casually announced that I was already 5 cm dilated. I shouted that I still wanted the epidural.

Unfortunately, my body had other plans. Within 30 minutes of reaching the hospital, I was fully dilated.

Which meant: No epidural. No pain relief. Nothing!

The doctor and Mr. R stood on either side of me repeating the same instruction.“Push.”“Push like you’re constipated for two days.”

Now remember all those breathing exercises I’d been practising in the car?

Every time they shouted “Push!”, I enthusiastically responded with:

“Phooooo…”And breathed everything out. Exactly the opposite of what I was supposed to do.

At one point the doctors burst out laughing. I got angry again.

After a few more pushes little V finally arrived. The room suddenly became busy. Doctors moved. Nurses moved. People started saying things.

I got only a few seconds to look at him before he was taken to the NICU.

And then I cried. Not because of the pain. Not because I was scared. Honestly, I’m still not sure why.

Maybe because after 39 weeks of waiting…he was finally here.

I then spent another half hour lying there while the doctor stitched up my tear.

Looking back, childbirth was surprisingly similar to motherhood so far. Planning can take you only so far. The baby arrived on his own schedule.

And somehow, despite having absolutely no idea what I was doing, everything worked out in the end :)