Nope, no one will tell you what childbirth involves. For starters, losing your dignity, your patience, and occasionally your mind — all within the same day! I walked into pregnancy thinking yoga, positivity, and good intentions would do the trick. What I didn’t realize was that at some point, I’d seriously suggest delivering a baby
standing up because, you know… gravity.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
My pregnancy was relatively smooth. Apart from the usual morning sickness, tiredness, and swollen feet (my feet deserve a separate mention), I didn’t face any major issues. Daily walks and yoga helped me stay fairly fit, and having a super supportive husband, mom and in-laws made everything else easier.
All my scans were normal. During my 30-week scan, the doctor noticed that my amniotic fluid levels were slightly on the lower side and prescribed medication to correct it. She said this would be monitored in subsequent scans. Around my eighth month, however, we had to shift houses. The move meant switching hospitals and doctors — a decision that felt risky at the time but later turned out to be a blessing in disguise.
At my first appointment with the new doctor, I fully expected another scan. Instead, she gently examined my tummy, smiled, and said everything looked good and that I could expect a normal delivery. No scan. No panic. No drama. I never really found out what happened to those amniotic fluid levels, but somehow, peace prevailed.
The new hospital was less than a kilometer from our home, so I walked to every checkup — feeling extremely virtuous and convinced this alone would guarantee an easy delivery. The doctor was calm, confident, and endlessly reassuring. She spoke about labor pains like they were an inconvenient but manageable guest. I believed her. (This belief would later be tested.)
My due date was February 14th. On January 31st, during a routine checkup, the doctor examined me and casually asked, “Aren’t you admitted yet?”
Excuse me, what?
She did an internal check and asked me to come back in three days. I went right back to her on the 3rd of Feb and she genuinely seemed surprised I was still walking around and asked if I wanted to get admitted. I told her I wanted things to be as natural as possible. She checked again and sent me home — once more — asking me to come back in a few days.
As a first-time mom, I had absolutely no idea how I’d know when the baby was ready to arrive. In my head, it would start with mild cramps, followed by calm breathing, a few well-timed yoga poses, and then a dramatic entry into the hospital. My mom had added that she delivered me within few hours of being in labour. I had read endlessly about “water breaking” and always wondered what that actually felt like. I’d also read that it wasn’t very common — which, of course, meant it was destined to happen to me. Because when has pregnancy ever followed statistics?
My niece had been born on the 5th, (yes the cousins are just 2 days apart!) and we were to visit my SIL on the Saturday, the 7th of Feb. But as usual, life had other plans. On the 7th at 1:30 a.m., I woke up to use the bathroom and instantly sensed something was off. Within seconds, it hit me — my water had broken. I went back, woke my mom, and with a big smile said, “Shall we go to the hospital?”
No panic. No screaming. Just excitement.
I was ready. Or was I?
My in-laws were with us, hospital bags were packed, and everyone moved into action. I was so calm that I even posed for a “one last picture before the baby” at home — because priorities.
The hospital was a two-minute drive away. After the initial formalities, I was taken to the ward and labor was induced. The on-call doctor checked me and said I had a long way to go. Parents were expecting a baby by early morning. My baby however had other plans!
Hours passed. Pain came and went — strangely bearable at first. Around 10 a.m., my doctor came in and said I was only 4 cm dilated and this could easily go on till evening. She kindly arranged idlis for me because I was starving. I had just had watermelon juice before enema and hadn't eaten in ages. Idlis were never a favorite of mine, but I gobbled them up like they were the last food on earth.
Eventually, after what felt like ages, the pain leveled up. I opted for an epidural and promptly forgot all my breathing techniques. I cried. A lot. The nurses held my hands, hugged me, and reassured me like professional emotional support humans.
By 1:30 p.m., my doctor announced I was almost there. All I needed to do was push.
Simple instructions. Terrifying execution.
I had never been hospitalized before. Now I was hooked up to IVs, monitors, wires everywhere, bright lights overhead, and a room full of people chanting “Push, push!” like it was a motivational anthem. I thought I was pushing with all my might. Apparently, I was not.
I was sweating, irritated, exhausted, and completely done being brave. Somewhere in the chaos, I lost my cool and yelled at my husband and doctor for telling me to push. I even suggested delivering the baby standing up so gravity could assist. The look on my doctor’s face was unforgettable.
At 3 p.m., she said the baby’s head was visible and warned me that if I didn’t push now, we’d have to go for a C-section. That was the motivation I needed. I had come too far to quit.
With every ounce of strength I had left — and a lot of assistance — our baby arrived at 3:33 p.m.
My first emotion wasn’t joy or tears.
It was pure relief.
I was so relieved that I didn’t even notice the baby hadn’t cried at all (a different blog post on this one later). I didn’t even ask for the gender! I was too busy celebrating the fact that the pushing chapter of my life was officially over.
It was only later, while being stitched up, that I suddenly realized — I had no idea if I had a boy or a girl. I was probably the last person in the room to find out.
The doctor asked me if I knew the gender, and that is when I realized it. I was probably the last person to know! When she told me it was a girl, I was ecstatic. This was exactly what we both had always hoped for. As the medication kicked in and reality slowly settled, I couldn’t quite believe it. I had become a mom.
As I drifted off to sleep, unsure of what the days ahead would bring, one thought stayed with me:
Miracles really do happen, prayers are answered 💗
.jfif)
