Ease into Midwifery

It began, as most adventures do, with an unassuming situation. The hospital my aunt was in didn’t allow members of the opposite sex to sleepover with the patient. You’d think since my aunt was tremendously pregnant and starting to have contractions they’d allow the husband to stay over—after all, they’ve already had that special hug. That’s why my aunt was in there in the first place!

But no, the hospital was adamant about their (outdated) policy, so my aunt asked me to accompany her in the hospital instead. I was the best person for this job, as I am, by most accounts, a glorified bum. My mum decided she’d go with me—I think she wasn’t confident that I would be able to handle an emergency situation. I concur.

As usual, I packed enough for a week-long camping trip. I’d like to think there was a good reason for it…

…Of course! I needed to exercise these biceps! Look at them guns…*flex flex*

Anyway, I worked out all the way to my aunt’s ward that by the time I reached it I was tired, sleepy and ready for bed. However, as usual, hospital wards resemble the Arctic, like they were actively trying to reinvent themselves as an Ice Wonderland. It made me regret not packing my winter coat. Mama and me camped out on a small strip of mat and tried to keep warm, but to no avail. (A/n: I know it’s ‘and I’, grouchy grammarians)

After a while, my aunt came to my rescue, because she scooted over and let me sleep with her on the bed, which was far warmer than the floor. Although really, she only did that because she wanted me to massage her back whenever she had a contraction. They were coming in quick and strong. It was 4am by this time, and the last time a nurse checked her dilation, it was 1230am. It was 2cm at the time—the same as it has been since 11am the previous day; the same, even though she had been given a shot to induce the labour. The nurse had given her a shot to ‘relax’ her after that—apparently so she could sleep. Obviously it didn’t work. It was 4am and her contractions were less than a minute apart. Like anyone could sleep through that.

My aunt became more restless. I soon became masseuse-cum-hot pack warmer. I think I was good at both. After a while, we called the nurse in—my mum was under the impression that such frequent contractions meant something. I wouldn’t know. I was expecting lots of screaming as a marker that delivery was on the way, and my aunt was definitely not doing that. When the nurse checked her dilation again (a procedure which got my aunt’s legs shaking), it was already 5cm. 2cm past the point where they can administer an epidural. 2cm more than my aunt bargained for. 2cm closer to panic.

My aunt tried to negotiate for the epidural, but the nurse laughed (kindly) and told her that by the time the anaesthetist arrived, she would have already given birth. She was wheeled into the labour room. 10-20 minutes later, she was already fully dilated and pushing. I was in there for a while, but as soon as her hubby showed up I was unceremoniously kicked out. Another one of those charming ‘hospital policy/procedure’. I opted to eavesdrop instead.

There were the sounds of the two nurses cheering her: ‘Push, push, very good, Lin…now a little more!’; there was the sound of the clanking of the bed rails; sometimes the approving grunts of the doctor. The only sound missing was my aunt screaming in agony. She didn’t even give a little groan, or so much as a whimper! Aiyo, no drama at all lah.

And then the doctor said, ‘Take the baby’. The baby screamed. My mother cried. The baby was born, alive and kicking and announcing it’s presence to the world.

Welcome baby Julia! We’ll hang out soon, my littlest cousin.