Announcing The Arrival
And here we are. Months since my last post about nesting and I have officially become a nester. I am a mother! To a beautiful baby girl named Jolieyah Aari Ryan. My life, my everything. I had been dreaming of this moment (quite literally—I have a text to Ryan from 2015 to prove it) for the longest time. And here I am. A mother. I keep saying cos I still cannot believe it.
So here comes the birth story some of y’all have asked for. I’m going to be brutally honest. It’s funny, intense, but overall I had—can you believe it—a pleasant experience. What wasn’t pleasant was the first week postpartum, but I’ll save that for another day, when I’m ready to share that much.
By the time the clock struck 12am on New Years Day, Ryan and I cheered (me with a chrysanthemum tea and Ryan with Calpis) and I was at wits end, ready for this baby to come out. Every day for 7 days of January, my friends would text me, “How are you?” and I’d reply with a very frustrated, “Still pregnant.” I was tired, heavy, bloated and honestly, quite over it. All I wanted to do was poop the baby out.
On the night of the 7th, early morning of the 8th, 2.00am, I woke up to a contraction. Now, my contractions (the Braxton Hicks one, you know, the fake ones) had been soooo mild. This one was like that. So I didn’t think much of it, until I felt fluid seep out of me, like a period, but more watery. I thought to myself, “Huh… nothing kot.”
And a bigger gush followed. I got up, and more water came out of me (not enough to make it look like the movies with a big SPLOOSH! but quite a bit). I waddled over to the toilet bowl and sat, and basically queefed more water out. I turned to look at the water and it didn’t look like urine. Google said if it smelt like urine, it’s urine (ok captain obvious), but if it smelt sweet, it’s probably my water breaking. I picked up my shorts off the floor and hesitated to smell it… lol… I know. But I did it. And I still couldn’t tell. I decided what the heck, I’mma climb back in bed and sleep some more.
SIKE. More water came out. I texted my girls, “I think my water just broke,” with Ryan sleeping soundly next to me.
One of them, Samira, “BABE I’M COMING WHERE DO I MEET YOU?”
The other, Athira, “OMG OMG OMG.”
Me, “CAN YALL PLEASE NOT FREAK OUT.”
I was convinced I could wait a little longer. But more and more water started coming out. Even a maxi pad wasn’t cutting it. Finally at 3.00am I turned over to Ryan and shook him, “Sayang, better start packing our clothes,” and he JOLTED up right and scurried to the closet, pulling out the pile of clothes he had already set aside.
“Do we need to go now?” he asked.
”Doctor said only when contractions are like… starting to be uncomfortable.”
”Let me call the hospital.”
And with a quick call, the nurse said come in right away, we were out the door at 3.45am (yeah, we took our time) and in the car on the way, I had my first REAL painful contraction. We were in the emergency room by 4.00am, up in the labour room by 4.15am, changed and awaiting our Covid Results (taken there), and still having a jolly good time with Powerpuff Girls on the TV.
A nurse came in to check my cervix. 1cm. ONE. I thought to myself, NINE more to go?! This is gonna take forever.
At 6.00am the nurse comes in and tells me, “Your doctor has been informed, and she said to put you on Pitocin to speed up the labour. So contractions will start hurting more.” (Note: You can say NO to this ok? I didn’t mind.) I asked her what were my painkiller options: Laughing Gas, a shot in the butt and epidural after 3cm dilation. I told her I’d call her when I couldn’t stand the pain anymore. I wanted to be macho.
They IV-ed the Pitocin into me and soon it all began. By 8.30am I was moaning in pain, Ryan—my poor baby—looked so helpless, and the laughing gas I had asked for just wasn’t cutting it anymore. I called the nurse, “Please, I’m ready for my epidural.” She checked my cervix, “3cm, can already.”
THREE?! THIS IS THE PAIN AT 3CM?!?! WHAT WILL THE NEXT SIX BE LIKE?!?!
“But the doctor is in an emergency C-Section. He’ll come to you as soon as he can.”
F*** my life, I thought.
Who in the right mind would do this MULTIPLE TIMES, I thought.
Why do people WANT children, I thought.
The contractions and my super pessimistic thoughts kept me so busy, I didn’t even hear the scuffling of the anaesthetist until a nurse called out, “Ok Tasha! He’s here!” and she positioned me to sit up on the bed, legs over the side of the bed on a stool and gave me my pillow to hug.
Dr. Suresh, what a dude. He man handled me so he could be specific with the points on my spine. Pushed my shoulders forward real hard (I didn’t mind it, he knew what he was doing), instructing me to STAY LIKE THAT, and I felt his fingers counting my spine discs (?). One jab, two jabs, three, four, five. When was it going to end? At this point I’m groaning and tearing up from all the pricks of the needle. I thought that was it………….. the epidural tube hadn’t even been INSERTED yet. Fml.
I felt my back go numb. I said, “Is that it?”
“No, we haven’t put in the medication yet.”
Fml.
Then I felt strong pressure, and a burning sensation on my back, like it got bit by a fire ant. A strong push on my back (like locking the buckle of a stuffed handbag) and a couple more prods here and there, I felt my back semut-semut and called out, “My back, it’s tingling.”
Dr. Suresh had the time to crack a joke, “Oh good! That means I got the right spot.”
Ha. Ha. Ha. That’s my spine you’re joking about sir.
Instant. Relief.
9.00am, I heard clogs behind me and the nurse announced, “Your doctor is here!” I turned to my right, face stained with tears. She had a new haircut, I noticed. She said teasingly, “Eh? Crying already?”
I let out a small giggle, “It’s been a morning. But now I can rest.”
“Yes,” she said and glanced at the clock, 9.00am. “With the pitocin, your baby should be here within 4 - 6 hours.” I almost cried. That was so soon. “Anyways, I hope its soon! I have a wedding to go to,” she said.
The nurse, “Oh whose wedding?”
Doctor, “You know? Dr X??? Her son getting married! The whole department was invited.” Lol, the small talk while the other nurse cleaned my back of all the blood (I didn’t see, but apparently, there was a lot.)
They had to hook up a urine catheter because I didn’t have anymore control of my legs. After that was done, I laid back in bed and slept so well. I couldn’t feel a single contraction. The only thing that woke me up was Ryan’s SNORING next to me. I woke up THREE hours later. 12.00pm.
Clog clog clog. Doctor was back. “Okay Tasha! Let’s check how far along you are!”
She didn’t even have to prod me that much. She took a glance and went, “There’s the head!”
I started crying again. Ryan said, “What?!”
Doctor, “Want to see?”
Ryan went round to her side and peeked as she held me slightly open. He said, “OH WOW!”
More tears from me. She’s finally here. She’s finally here.
Doctor, “Okay, we’re gonna get all set up and you can start pushing.”
Nurses came bustling in, setting up the stirrups, the tool tray, the light. My nurse, Fazliza, if I’m not mistaken, was a God send. I asked her if she’d guide me, she said of course. She said, “It’s gonna feel like you wanna poop. So just POOP. Don’t push through your face, push like you’re pooping.” (I had taking ZERO birthing classes, btw).
12.15pm. It was just me, her and Ryan at that point, and she watched the monitor to wait for my next contraction. “Okay, it’s coming Tasha. Breathe in, hold, then breath in again and push ok!”
I felt the pressure on my anus, and when she said go, I did as she told, in that manner. She cheered me on. Telling me I was doing a good job. I didn’t feel like I was doing anything to be honest.
“Am I doing anything?!” I felt NO pain. Just pressure during pushes.
”Yes, Tasha! She’s coming out more and more! Okay again!”
Ryan held my head up as I pushed, I held my thighs apart, Fazliza was the captain. I pushed again. It was working. Every contraction from then on I felt the pressure in my anus get stronger. She held up a mirror for me to see my baby’s head. I wanted to cry some more, out of happiness, but I wanted to get her out first.
We worked on it for 10 minutes, and my doctor came clogging back in. “Alright Tasha, last stretch.” At this point we did the cycle maybe 2 more times, and the last one I had to give 4 pushes in a row. And before I knew it, 12.31pm, all pressure in my pelvic area was relieved, my baby IMMEDIATELY cried, and she was placed on my chest, and then I exploded into tears. She was here. She was finally here. I looked at Ryan and he had tears in his eyes, even with his mask on, I could tell he was overwhelmed. I can’t remember if he held me, but I remember feeling whole, the three of us there as though no one else was in the room.
The nurse taking photos of us was also a blur. Like no one else existed. My Doctor was taking her sweet time sewing me up (2 stitches). She even said, “Hmm, I can make it neater.” Took it out, and started over. I didn’t feel anything going on down there. She signed off with a, “Alright! Amazing! Good job! I thought I’d be late to the wedding!” gave me a little giggle.
We cried and we cooed over the baby. The nurses took her to get cleaned up, Ryan and I shared a kiss. Not long after they brought her back to us. We were in awe. It felt like a dream. It still does. Every time I look at her, I cannot believe she’s ours. Even today.
My takeaway was this:
Epidural was definitely a smart choice for me.
I hate being tubed up and stuck to hospital bed (I asked for everything to be removed AS SOON as it could be).
Being prodded for cervix dilation check and also laxatives up the bum to poop before active labour made me feel super vulnerable, I hated it.
The contractions were the worst pain.
The pushing was less stressful than I thought, guessing cos of the epidural—really, I had great guidance, and I thought it was going to be more painful. There was no pain for me, just pressure, and even that wasn’t too intense in my experience.
Always, always, always ask “will it hurt?” for everything they’re about to do (IV, catheter, epidural, pushing, etc.) cos it gave me a gauge on what to expect. Just ask questions in general. No shame.
Don’t be a hero trying to show your pain tolerance (note to self).
We were discharged about 28 hours later. Went home, had our parents over to see the baby, and our parenting journey began.
We don’t have a confinement lady, we opted to not have one, so we could experience it all to ourselves. And so far, Jolieyah has been an angel. We have had laughs, some cries (from me mostly), and lots and lots of love. I do not regret opting to do this on our own at all. This is definitely a personal choice, and if we do need help, we will not hesitate to ask for it. But as of right now, we are feeling good, 10 days in. We have a groove, our moods are stable, and our sleep schedule is quite routine so we get 8 hours every night (interrupted for feeding time of course, but nonetheless, accumulated 8 hours).
I am so grateful I had a good birthing experience. Now, the first week postpartum was a ride for me. I am so grateful for my husband, Ryan for being an immense support during that time. As y’all may know, I was diagnosed with GAD (General Anxiety Disorder) 10 years ago, so it came back tenfold during first week postpartum, but I’m not ready to share that yet.
However, breaking into our 10th day with Jolie, I am feeling more like myself again and have finally the right mind space to enjoy our baby girl.
Well, thanks for coming round. More to come, I reckon, what with our stories of being first time parents (FTP—it’s the internet parent lingo, I’m learning so much lol, thanks Google).
Big shoutout to Ryan, the love of my life, for being so strong this past week with me being a total mess. He has cooked, done laundry, taken shifts on his own, just so that I can recover. He is the most amazing man in the world. I love him so truly so deeply, I have no idea what I’d do without him and I don’t plan on ever finding out. I love you, Ryan. You and Jolieyah are my life. I am forever yours.
Till next time. Much love from The Aari Ryans.