He arrived close to full-term on the 7th of November, 1937hrs. I had been cooking with Mobbes a lot the past few days before and spending some time with Dad talking about my own Mum. A lot of domestic and nesting moments, feeling more and more ready and settled mentally and emotionally, although the room was still in a shambles and many things -- the maid situation, the baby stuff lying everywhere, the cord blood issue -- left uncertain.
But when the surges started, it was early in the morning, before Mobbes left for camp. I was lying in bed and as he cuddled me in the minutes before leaving as he does each morning, I felt the intensity and the coming of something.
"I think Dobbes is coming today" I told him.
Well, it was a full day and a half later before the moment but the pre-labour hours were surreal. Least expected was the incessant nausea coming at every half hour interval or even more frequent.
By the time I got to the hospital I was 3cms dilated. A little early to go in perhaps, but the feeling of sick made me want to be taken care of and move the delivery forward.
The water birth didn't happen for me as planned but I managed to labour in the water for two sessions, using it as a form of pain-relief. I'm happy that I managed to avoid artificially rupturing my membranes and only took a bit of Oxytocin and a few gulps of Entonox towards the end before I was fully dilated and Dr. Vanaja came in.
"He's crowning already! Can you try pushing? You look like the pushing sort!" she told me.
And push I did, maybe about ten times or less. It was only 30 minutes and he was out, my beautiful rainbow Dobbes. We decided not to store the cord blood so we delayed the cord clamping, Mobbes prodly holding the scissors to snip it when it stopped pulsing.
I had asked Mobbes to cut off the front of my nightgown so that I could hold Dobbes skin to skin, which I did for at least an hour or more. Weighing, measuring and bathing the baby could wait! The staff and surgeon smiled while Mobbes and I beheld little Dobbes euphorically, with Catherine our doula by our side.
Later when Grandaddy, Grandma and Uncle George had left after visiting and all was normal again (and I had found time to faint twice in the bathtub while cleaning myself, falling into Mobbes' arms), the cat family found themselves alone in the neo-natal ward. The nurse came to give me medication.
"So what is your pain scale now?" she asked.
"Zero," I said honestly.
I took the medication anyway, since she told me that the endorphins of giving birth naturally would waer off and the discomfor between the legs where the tiny tear had occured may eventually set in.
But nothing could possibly feel stronger than the abject love I feel for Dobbes that enveloped me like a magic cloak that night.
Even now, I catch myself looking at him, smelling him and feeding him while feeling that nothing on earth would ever be as good as this choice I made: to have him in my life and birth him the way I did, with no drugs, his father present and involved all the way.
And now, the journey is just beginning again.
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