True stories about birth and giving birth

Day 599. Woman gave birth to daughter, daughter gave birth to son, but neither became a mother

Day 599. Woman gave birth to daughter, daughter gave birth to son, but neither became a mother

When my mother told me about my birth she wasn’t swinging sentimentally, and her words were bold and without emotions. That tortured me more than any physical pain.

Nothing has changed since twenty-eight years: the memory of my first childbirth merges into my mother’s story and cannot be disengaged.

The midwife sat in front of my sprawled legs to shave my labia, she put a plastic drain into my bung to clean out faeces. The doctor in the labour room laid me on my back, he connected me with machines, at the last part of birth he trussed me up as I was an animal – because we treat animals of the Earth like this, in lack of any sympathy or piety. He cut my fair muscles just to stich them later, he ripped into my childbirth’s natural pulse with chemical and physical interferences, and at the end he took my baby away from me.

My deliverance started with amniotomy and the uterin contractions made my belly as hard as a stone; pain, pause, pain, pause. The obstetrist dipped into my vagina to broadened with hand, pain, pain, pain; bile splashed into a bowl held out quickly before me, pain, pain pain. “Dissector!” – called he and carved into my living muscle, pause, pause, pause, blood and tears; blood wept from wounds, echoed on the hospital floors as splatted, and tears bubbled from my eyes, knocked as lead bullets; pause, pause.

“Sucking disc!” – said the obstetrist, he applied its end onto my skull, suction, the disc marked my head with a bruise, and like bone of a tiny sparrow my collar-bone cracked. “Suction!”

With our eyes we followed our child’s journey under the tap, onto scales, onto changingtable, out from the labour room. A glimmer of our eyes draw invisible loops in the air, the last one remained flickering at the door like an unbound string, while our child was carried away from us, swinging on the rhythm of a nurse’s footsteps before this newborn could make us mothers.

I am lucky because with my third childbirth I sprang into being a mother, therefor my other two children were also given a mother.

S. K.

second child’s birth > > >
third child’s birth > > >

Véletlenül kiválasztott mesék.

This post is also available in: Hungarian