Day 371. Linda gives birth, Almi is born
It is the afternoon of a muggy July day. I have a huge belly and I am arranging my things: getting ready library books and borrowed things from friends to be taken back, finding official documents and so on.
We arrived home to our lovers’ home late in the evening. We were about getting ready to go to bed when Ati puts on his clothes saying he is going to the nearby ATM to transfer some money to our mobiles. “That might be important” – he says.
It is at night. I wake up. I’m in bed, it is dark, and I open my eyes. I can hear a soft pop… I feel a tightness in my stomach. No, it can’t be THAT. It must have been the amniotic sac. I make a move and warm water runs on my tights. I smile, I’m happy. It is good. I tell Ati it has started. “Fleck” has started to make her way towards us.
We are getting ready. As if we were going on a holiday, excited, curious, delighted. But we do the usual things: putting on clothes, taking off clothes, having a shower, making some hot chocolate, talking, getting things that were asked for by the midwives ready. They will help us to end our wait: almond oil, clary, nappies, sheets etc.
I am watering plants in the light of dawn; I am having a chat with Ati. There are some contractions, too. We are timing them. I say him to time, I can’t do that. They often hit. They seem to be without stop. It is painful.
I kneel in front of the bed and try to go against the pain, it is terrible. I get frightened: what if it takes so long that I can’t take it anymore. It hurts sooooo much. I don’t speak anymore, only within, to myself.
I can hear a voice in my soul: “Linda, you have been looking for this, you have wanted it, and you have undertaken it! Don’t flee, bestride it, and let it take you!” So I do. I go with it. I am on my all fours rocking my hip. I blow a golden string that soon becomes a sonorous mooing. It helps. It leads me, takes me like a mantra, my mooing mantra, which brings the fruit: Alma (meaning apple, which is also a name in Hungarian).
I ask for cold water, for a lot to my head. I hang myself into it; water runs down from my long hair into my face… water running… up and down…
The midwife arrives, I can’t see her, I don’t feel it, I just know. She is there with me, just like Ati, I just know, just with me. I am alone, I am with myself, I have an important thing to do. With myself.
It is already bright. There are more of us. Geréb Ági and Móni have arrived. I can feel it a little. I have come a bit further out. From myself.
They propose I change positions. (I don’t want to, my feet are rooted to the ground, I coo, moo, swing here, I don’t want it to hurt!!!!)
Ági says my baby will arrive soon. (I don’t believe it.) And that the contractions will bring her. I should surrender to them, not fight them. And that we are waiting for these contractions to become longer and heavier. (I myself want them to become short and weak.) That will bring the baby.
That convinced me, the baby, my Baby, Freckle. I want to meet her. Come on Sweetie. When the contractions hit I sit up, and again. (I don’t notice that I have gotten out, but I have.)
Some flashes from the bathroom: I am surrounded by the midwives. They are sitting; they are there for me, silent, patient. It is peaceful.
Flashes from the room: sharp morning light, there are some impromptu pieces of furniture made by the midwives to help my labour. I am pleased they are there. I have a wet poultice on my neck and a hot one on my perineum.
Ati is with me, too, again just like the midwives. Silent, massive, holding. He holds me. From the back. I am squatting, I have pains, push, relax, pain, push, relax…
The Women are lying under me. They encourage me, can see already, and know that soon it is over. I have another flash of fear: I can’t make it, I’ve been doing it for so long and I can’t do it, I can feel that something blocks her way, in there, something in there blocks her… Help me, help me give birth to her – I am thinking, but I know no one can help. This is my business.
I can hear Ági saying if you help her go through THAT point she will arrive. (She can read my mind…, she knows that it has just occurred to me that there must be a block.) She helps, they help, they help me to believe that I can do it, that I can help her out… I will succeed, I have to succeed, I was born to give birth, I gave birth, I am giving birth…. She is born!
She has slipped out: warmth, a pleasant flood. I am helped to lie on my back; I am looked after, loved.
I have nothing else to do but to hold my baby tight, there is no problem, I am safe.
Everybody is here. Suddenly as if I was at a treat. Just like a birthday party: loving friends, happiness, idyll. I have Alma on my breast.
I hardly look at her, just grab her, feel her, look at the midwives doing their jobs around me. It’s so good they are here!
Ati, my dear Ati! It’s so good you are here! Come over here! We are all here. Hurray! She’s been born!
Almi’s birth (father) > > >
Véletlenül kiválasztott mesék.
This post is also available in: Hungarian