CAUGHT UNAWARES!
Once in a while parents are accused of favouring one child more than the others in a family. Ben Kipng’eno is one parent who never minds spoiling his third and last daughter Bret. This is because of one reason: He midwifed Bret’s birth. He reminisces his unique day in vivid details.
MY wife, Mildred, and I had planned on having two children when we married ten years ago. So when she realized we were going to have a third one it wasn’t received with much joy. For several days she didn’t inform me fearing that I would be displeased and even blame her for conceiving.
She disclosed her little secret in June when she was seven weeks pregnant and only when I commented on her increasing weight and appetite. Though I was concerned that an unplanned baby would cause a dent on our hard earned savings, I did not take it badly.
Her pregnancy progressed without complications since she had learnt how to take care of herself from her earlier pregnancy experiences. It did not even bother me to remind her of either prenatal visits or her EDD as I had done during her first pregnancy when she claimed to sometimes forget the dates.
On the tenth of December, I called my sister and requested her to pick my children on her way upcountry to take her own to my parents for the year end holidays. She obliged and we were left with my wife at home.
That same day my wife started complaining of cramps and dizziness but put it down to fatigue because she was in her last trimester. We decided to sleep early that night because she was visibly tired.
Mildred was restless throughout the night. She woke up severally to go to the washroom. As dawn approached, she woke me up in a panic and announce. ‘I feel the baby is coming!’ Panic wiped all sluggishness from my sleep and I shot up from bed.
A quick examination revealed that she was in labour and that the baby was already crowning: I could see the foetal head! I realised there was no chance to get to hospital and I would have to do what a midwife would do.
I rushed to the bathroom in confusion. She called me urgently, seeming to fear that I would run away from her and harm would come to her or the baby. I quickly fetched some warm water in a bucket and tried practicing what we had learnt of emergency deliveries during the birth classes we had been attending.
Luckily Mildred had kept a clean razor blade, a string and some clean towels in her drawer in case of emergency and she directed me to fetch them. I carried everything I thought I would require and got back by her bedside.
I instructed her to breathe deeply to manage her labour pains while putting her legs wide apart. All panic, hesitation and questions had to be kept under wraps as the health of two of my most important people came first.
In the circumstances, trying to remember what the birth class instructor had directed became a big task, so I decided to deal with this delivery instinctively. I squatted at the edge of the bed directly in wait for the arriving baby. My wife began pushing. She screamed and uttered obscene words against me yet I was the only one by her side! All I could do was soothe her and urge her to push harder while I waited determinedly for the baby to come out.
Moments later, the baby slipped out and into my arms. I had never felt that awed and relieved in my life. All hesitation I had felt faded as I looked at the new life she had delivered.
It was a girl. A gentle pat on her back started her off with a cry. I tied her umbilical cord and prepared her for her first step to independence in life. I cut it off, separating her from her mother. It was a momentous experience for me.
I cleaned up the baby, wrapped her in a new soft shawl and placed her on the bed beside her mother. Mildred delivered the placenta and I cleaned her too.
Call it miraculous or luck but I don’t know how I pulled through the whole process.
Surprisingly, that morning, no one showed up at our doorstep. Not even the newspaper delivery man or the woman in the neighbourhood who regularly checked on Mildred during the morning hours. Fate had conspired to keep them away when I badly needed help.
We later checked into a nearby hospital for observation and immunization of our baby.
Our daughter is now three years old and in pre-school. Both consciously and subconsciously, I admit I do pamper her and sometimes favour her over our other babies. Of course this should not be the case— but then again one needs to midwife a baby to understand my bias: it is quite a humbling experience!
END:PG12/31