When she was in boarding school, she was never one to roam the room in just bra and panties. She was too self-conscious for that. Infact, she often woke up really early in order to avoid having to shower in the midst of a crowd and whenever she had to change clothes in a busy dorm, she tried hiding her ‘assets’ by facing the wall. Yes, she was that ‘private’ and could never imagine ‘exposing’ more than was absolutely necessary.  

So today, sitting face-to-face with her gynecologist, she nursed that same ‘privacy’ mindset as she tried coming to terms with the fact that the good, old doctor had just requested she ‘open up’ because he needed to go ‘down there’ to check out her cervix. At his request, her rich, chocolate complexion couldn’t help blushing and unsurprisingly as she obliged, the few minutes that followed turned out to be really awkward for her despite the thorough professionalism of her doctor. As in for the rest of her appointment, she couldn’t quite bring herself to look into his eye again.

So again yes, she was that ‘prim’ and as her delivery date drew close, she mentally made some necessary arrangements for the big day – On that delivery bed, she had no plans of displaying more than was absolutely necessary considering the fact that the doctor would probably not be working alone.

So when the D-day finally came, in-between her widely spaced contractions,  her mind quickly went over her detailed but very unrealistic ‘privacy’ plans . As for her eyes…They judgmentally took in the less than impressive space which would serve as her delivery room. She was less than pleased with it…

But being unable to do anything about it, she turned her attention to her contractions. They didn’t hurt that much, meaning that either her prayers for an easy labor had been answered or all this while, people had just been exaggerating the whole ‘labor’ drama.

However on sharing her thoughts with the doctor, he laughed and quickly assured her that as she progressed from her 1cm dilation state, things would get worse. But, considering how very bearable the pain was now, she was certain that even if baby chose to play the ‘diva’ role by keeping her waiting till tomorrow, she was more than capable of handling the next ‘many’ hours.

So, quite confident and feeling all too familiar with the contraction timing, she waited for the next ‘knock’ from her little ‘miss’ as she counted down …21, 20, 19,…Then suddenly, “Ouch!’”, she went. “This was definitely a new kind of ‘pain’ and wait minute, wasn’t it some 20 seconds early or did she jump some numbers?”, she wondered.

Giving her a full 17 minutes to analyze the changes, the contraction came back and this time around she let out a loud, painful scream which promptly ushered in the real labor ‘deal’ that she had heard so many stories about. Then without any preamble, just as she had many times seen on the TV set, she saw herself quickly transform from ‘prim and proper’ to ‘wild and crazy’, making the dark, outdated state of the delivery room and all her ‘privacy’ plans seem irrelevant.

Incoherently, she screamed all ‘sorts’ and violently, she ranted at and threatened no-one in particular. In between the closely timed contractions, she blamed herself for refusing to learn about her pain medication options and bracing herself for the impending anguish, she was almost certain she won’t survive the hours ahead.

 She definitely felt like she was slowly and torturously moving through the valley of the shadow of death and as she lay in severe pain, she questioned why it had to be this way. As in, how could a yet-to-be born baby who would barely weigh 3kg, inflict this much pain on his heavy-weight 81 kg mom? Besides hadn’t the little miss ever heard about the ‘slow and steady’ concept. Really, why all this hurried pressure?

Before an answer could be cooked up for these unanswerable questions, the contraction took root again and screaming loudly, she lay in anguish, at the mercy of her baby.

Then suddenly, she did the unthinkable. She demanded to be free of her hospital gown. Yes, the very type she had insisted on, (because in her opinion the other type did not quite cover up her behind), had for some unexplainable reason, gone from been mandatory to being a nuisance. Its feel against her skin was right now an irritant that seemed to reduce her capacity to take on the pain. So, totally throwing her privacy policy out of the window, she went from ‘semi-naked’ to ‘butt naked’ and for some strange reason, doing this made her feel better prepared for what was left of her labor.

Whether or not, that ‘feeling’ was in her head, I do not know. But what I do know is that after another 70 minutes of painful contractions, she got the chance to push and after every failed push, she was told she wasn’t pushing hard at all and was encouraged to give a much harder try because in their words, ‘The baby was almost out. They could see her head. She had plenty of hair’. Whether or not those words were true or whether they were constructed to motivate her, she did not know. But what she did know was that she wanted to tell them off. With all the energy she put into each push, what did they mean by she wasn’t pushing hard?

However, having no choice, she chose to believe them and so with her last bit of energy, she gave one big push that finally brought out the little ‘madam’ who had to be spanked before releasing her first, shrilling cry.

So, what’s your own story? Tell us, how loud and crazy were you in the delivery room?


(Picture courtesysarcasticsarcasms.blogspot.comwww.theguardian.compixshark.comwww.theroot.comwww.fotosearch.comwww.istockphoto.comwww.pinterest.com stories.mywiserhealth.comfashions-cloud.comnuclearfamily.wordpress.com)