The arrival

The image in my view is a blur and I think it is trying to wave at me. I close my eyes for the umpteenth time. Why is the pain so excruciating? Whoever the image was must be really mean because I think it is obvious the kind of pain I’m in. The sweat has wet my bed and the drip seems to be swelling my hand. I open my eyes again hoping to turn to my left side and stop. But just as I try this, whoosh! That pain! With time I fall asleep and dwindle off to dream land.

‘Wakey wakey sleepy head, you have a baby to hold,’ says the ever cheery nurse, Scholar.

I think to myself half awake … where am I? What happened to me? Someone has a baby boy.

The weather had been hazy—nothing like the gold rust leaves carpet that invites the summer nor the sparkling rays that awaken the January sunshine in this part of the tropics. It must have rained. Though I was halfway between heaven and hell. The pangs of the contractions could not leave me alone.

I had read somewhere that eating dates would ease the pain and catalyse the process but just then my back was killing me and the therapy wasn’t working! Breath in…. Breath out…. Breath in… Breath out… Think of something calming and move your psychology to a place of tranquillity. This isn’t working either. The contractions are coming faster within very short time spans. I’m sweating and my hair seems to be channelling a heat wave into my scalp—some temperature I have never experienced. Why in heaven’s name didn’t I just have it shaved off? I almost shout to myself.

I gather all the strength I can get and raise my tired body and huge bulge to go to the bathroom. By this time the bottom end of my spine seems to be breaking off my skin as I raise my tired frame from the bed. Aaarrgggghhh…. The pain is mind-boggling and I make huge steps towards the bathroom door. A cold shower will help, I seem to address the shower tap as I stand in the shower complete with my hospital gown. As the water bounces off my body, I feel a gush of hot water between my legs. The clock stops ticking —instinctively I know, there is trouble. Just then a movement within my pelvic bone causes unbearable pain and I yelp out ‘Nursssssse…’ and everything fizzles into a blur and then nothing!

So that is what had happened.
Now, inexplicable tears start to roll as the baby engages the crying gear half wondering where in the world he is. Of course it is much brighter out here but colder than the warm womb he was used to. He sneezes as Scholar places him in my hands—oh what a sound! He is a tiny bunch of flesh with heavenly eyes and a chubby face. Under other circumstances he would have been a cherub but now he is my son. This one is going to be aggressive… I think to myself as the little fingers grab my right hand thumb with all the strength of a little baby. He looks scared —perhaps it’s my facial frame that reminds him of an ogre, now that he can’t really place where we have met. We have been together for nine months, remember? I am the voice that has been singing to you, the hand that has been rocking you to sleep, the navel that has been feeding your tiny stomach. My name is mother.

Your mother. And you are my son. I’m really pleased to meet you. I assure him with a smile that really without a sense of doubt, he really is in good hands. ‘That’s a heavy son you have; he weighed 3.8kg at birth, 20.2cm height and all functions normal’, interjects Scholar. ‘

‘That is excellent news though I am in so much pain I won’t be able to hold him for too long,’ I mumble with tears all over my face.

‘Not to worry… Caesarean birth is not the easiest but you are strong. Let me take him to the nursery as I send someone to administer something for the pain. In an hour’s time, you should be alright to suckle him,’ she says as she picks the child from my arms.

As I wipe away my tears and lay in my world of thoughts. I can’t stop marvelling at the miracle of life and how God makes a woman the key instrument in that!

But the magnitude of the future seems overwhelming. Notwithstanding, I must have courage and strength to move on. For this will be another reason for living. It is not because I am capable but because God knows I am able to be a good mother to this child. The nights will definitely be shorter and the days even busier than working in the office.

But because we have both come this far, I should be strong, for my son’s future begun way before I saw his little feet in my womb. It is for this reason that I must arise, for me and for the little boy that is my son. The journey of a lifetime has begun. A new season has arrived.

END:BL29/18