From Shrill to Shrill!

A REAL LIFE EXPERIENCE AS WITNESSED BY A MATERNITY NURSE

Lydia was wheeled by her husband into labour and delivery section shrilling at the top of her lungs. To try and restore the hospitals rattled calm, I quickly guided them to a room. There was fear in her eyes and definite anxiety in her vocalization of pain. For a brief moment, she went quiet. She was between contractions—span of time that gave her hubby the peace to sign her into the hospital. No sooner was he done than the inconsolable ear-piercing screaming tore the place again.

Her behaviour indicated that delivery was forthcoming. So we worked rapidly to get her evaluated, only to establish that she was 4-5 cm dilated. We therefore commenced her intravenous… to aid her body to have the baby sooner. And I quickly explained the pain relief options to her and her husband for them to make a choice.

‘Breathing or relaxation techniques. IV pain-relief medicine, or epidural are the choices we can offer. Please let me know what you opt for,” I enquired. It took quite a few minutes for her husband to speak up and in a few words he said. ‘She says she doesn’t want anything for the pain.”

Admittedly, being in my initial years of practice, looking at her contorted face, the wriggling body and the firm clench she had on her bed stand, her stubbornness was getting the better part of me. Back to professionalism, I had to make do with the fact she had made her choice. She did not want anything to help her cope with the labour and that was fine with me. Most importantly, a woman is free to deal with labour as she chooses, even when I think otherwise. I therefore resolved to help her relax between contractions and possibly gain some overall control.

Getting off my high angry horse, I brought my seat next to her, looked her in the eye and began speaking with her generally about herself, what she wants for her baby, how she is feeling (just how I would have loved someone to treat me when I am throwing tantrums). And it is amazing how a feeling of compassion transcends any barrier. She relaxed. With calm, I could now teach her to cope with labour by encouraging her to stop holding her breath, as she had started to do when she was not screaming. I also discussed slow deep breaths, in and out. We practiced together between contractions and with much effort she grasped the concept. I also encouraged her to get out of the bed and stand, or sit on the birthing stool and she seemed agreeable. Her hubby got the flow such that bearing the baby became a threesome affair. And with these the labour was getting on well.

When 9cm dilated, however, she went into screaming again. She dug her nails into her husband’s arms, cursed, pushed, grunted and held her breath. Though her screaming rattled my nerves and made my head hurt, the bond we had established moments ago gave me the grace to consider medical history which has it that in the last stages of labour, even the gentlest of women do and say the unimaginable, and even forget the birth lessons they so faithfully attended.

I readied her room for delivery giving her time to fully dilate so that she is not consumed by the tension that can reign on the delivery bed when the baby doesn’t show up as soon as the mother expects—which is usually ASAY (As soon as Yesterday). So after the delivery supplies were in order and we had mounted her on the delivery bed, I again settled next to her encouragingly instructing her—regardless of 90 percent of my instructions falling on deaf ears. To my relief and amazement, within ten minutes the baby began to crown. Happy that two thirds of my job was done. I called in the doctors for the delivery.

A healthy baby boy was out minutes thereafter. And the air was being torn by the shrill every midwife loves to hear. After Lydia had her tear sewn up, I took her legs down from the stirrups and did what I learnt that day, moved close to her as I helped her hold her baby properly and celebrated the latest shrill, the three of us. There is nothing as fulfilling as being a midwife.

END:PG27/17

Leave a Comment