True stories about birth and giving birth

Day 600. Birth of life

Day 600. Birth of life

My first pregnancy was full with golden days, except when I went to a medical examination. Looking back now I just smile at myself, although it is a sad smile, because I could have said “no” to these examinations. However I went to have them and was miffed at it. I was upset because the people treated me as a living incubator, God’s imperfect creature whom ensures the continuity of life in such a barbaric way.

At the beginning of my second childbearing I was summoned for ultrasonic examination bi-weekly because my water was more than the usual. Other abnormality was not found, so after the third examen I’ve showed obstinacy. I’ve asked my partner: “What will we do if it turns out that our baby is not healthy?” He said: “It’s ours. We raise her anyway.” Since that time there was no reason for going to these examens and I felt truly relieved.

For my second birth I arrived at the hospital with a list about what and how I would like to do it. I’ve had time because it was a so-called “programmed birth” with a certain date. Well, if I were asked now: what would I do otherwise in my life if I could start over again, I swear I would do all my mistakes the same, but I’d like to have much more motherly awareness.

So I sat with the doctor who was reading the list and commented it: “This may be.” ’That is a no.” “Are you kidding?” One of my request was to be able to stand and walk during labour, and his answer was: “Pooh! What are you thinking? The navel-string might topple down and then no child!”

The most I could achieve was a promise that I’ll get my daughter after birth. (All my children appeared in my dream during my childbearings, and so she.)

After birth they covered my belly with a sterile sheet and put my baby on it. I lifted her up to my heart. I felt a wandering happiness, I stroked her back and murmured something to her in delirium, can’t remember what did I say, when suddenly I was pulled back to reality with a harsh voice. A nurse stood next to me stamping with her feet impatiently and said: “Come on, get a move on!”

In spite of the hospital ambience, in spite of the artful impulse of birth and all the general medical protocol, among three deliverances: Zita’s birth was the easiest. This birth incepted me graciously and there was nothing left from me in this world. In this blissful condition I gave birth to a little girl whom lived lots of lives before and helped me in every possible way. Her name suits her well, Zita means: birth of life. (In greek-latin: Zoé Natalia)

S. K.

first child’s birth > > >
third child’s birth > > >

Véletlenül kiválasztott mesék.

This post is also available in: Hungarian