Today is the day.
After ten months of anticipation, we’re finally having the scheduled caesarean section today.
We just can’t wait.
For the past few months, we having been stocking up, almost excessively – from milk bottles, diapers, wipes, crib, pacifiers, and of course, countless baby clothes of all sizes. We didn’t buy them all; we got most of them as gifts from friends and families – all in preparation for today’s big event! We were not the only ones who couldn’t wait – the excitement was shared and anticipated by literally everyone around us.
As I drove Emily to the hospital, we talked casually, with more excitement than nervousness. We had been starting to reflect on this pregnancy since long before the baby was born. It’s been a gruelling journey thus far, both physically and mentally. Oh, and financially too. Or perhaps that’s part of the mental bit.
Emily and I have been trying to conceive for years. We have tried everything. From traditional methods such as having “well-timed” sex (yes, sometimes having sex can be totally un-enjoyable), to almost too common procedures these days such as intrauterine insemination (IUI) and in vitro fertilisation (IVF), to every herbal remedy we dared to consume.
In fact, we had decided this was the very last time we would try IVF. It was painful to witness Emily having to take all those pills and needles to kick off each cycle of treatment. We literally couldn’t afford it anymore too. And the worst was every time she took the pregnancy test and got that the negative result. In fact, before the formal pregnancy tests were to be done at the clinic, we would buy lots of pregnancy testers to test it every other hour beforehand, hoping for the best. In a weird way, it was almost similar to checking the lottery ticket – where unrealistic expectation meets cold hard reality. Yet, somehow we continued to do so.
Nothing worked. No, not even with all the advancements in Western medical science. It seemed life’s creation was still in the very safe hands of the God of your choice.
There were moments when I asked myself, Why have a baby? What’s the big deal? Life moves on, right? But of course, I would never say that to Emily; she was having to deal with enough pressure already. There still seems to be an unspoken pressure on infertile women these days. Yes, women get the blame, no matter whether scientific evidence supports it or not.
We still remembered the day when the doctor congratulated us on the result. It was such a relief. Yes, there are always people winning the lottery. And it’s just that this time it has happened to us.
Surprisingly, the whole 10-month pregnancy period had been fairly straightforward for Emily. She didn’t get sick too often (she had her fair share nonetheless), and most importantly, the baby has been growing on a very steady rate. Everything was worth it.
Today is the very last step of this pregnancy, and the very first day of our new lives with a baby.
“Take it easy, darling, it will be quick,” I told Emily as they brought her to the operation table.
I was in the operation room with her, too. I had my “GoPro” video camera, a seriously new SLR camera that I was still figuring out how to use and of course, my trusty iPhone backed up as the secondary camera. Yet I was too engaged talking to Emily; I totally forgot to take any pictures. Emily was in block anaesthesia, which meant she was awake, yet couldn’t feel anything on her lower body. I really can’t imagine the feeling of not feeling part of my body, yet being completely awake.
It literally took the doctor minutes to get our baby, David, out. It was time for the Kodak moment, when we hugged the little man and welcomed him to the world. All this while the doctor was busy stitching Emily up.
The nurse then took the baby away for clean-up as we waited for the doctor to complete the procedure. All of a sudden, the doctor and nurses were seeing something wrong. They looked worried. And we started to hear the constant beeps from seemingly all the medical equipment around us.
Emily asked me, “What’s happening?” Still wide awake, still without feeling anything physically.
Of course, I had no clue except knowing something was not quite right simply from their look and the way they talked to each other. As much as Emily couldn’t feel anything, she looked definitely weaker. And then all of a sudden, the doctor asked me to leave the operation room.
I didn’t want to leave her alone, but after Emily convinced me not to make a scene so the doctor could focus, I reluctantly left.
“Don’t worry, darling, I will see you soon. Go see our baby!”
Emily is the boss of our family. When she asks me to go, I go. When she asks me to stay put, I stay put. Because she is always right! However, little did I know, those were the last words I heard from her. It’s also probably the only time I should not have listened to her.
I was waiting for an hour outside, and then the doctor came out and told me the news.
“I am sorry. There were complications during the operation, and we did all we could to bring her back, but she didn’t make it.”
No, this can’t be true. We are supposed to be celebrating with a new baby. We are supposed to be welcoming a new member to the family. We are not supposed to be planning a funeral soon.
Beep… beep… beep…
I wake up with a sign of relief.
“Good Lord, that was a dream!”
With a tired body and swelling eyes, I can hear David crying. I walk to the kitchen to prepare milk for him. It’s almost a robotic reaction.
It’s such an accomplishment to feed the baby. He looks so satisfied. It’s like you have fulfilled every need he could dream of. Babies unlike adults, don’t seem to want much anyway. They only need the very basics: sleep, milk, and a regular change of diapers. And of course, a little bit of TLC.
As the baby is drinking away, I’ve got a little time off to check my Facebook account. Unlike others, I don’t share much about what I eat or where I go, but I do use it as an open diary to keep track of what has been happening to me. I have a habit of reading my statuses every now and then to reflect on things.
As I do so, one of my recent Facebook updates read, “Thank you for all your love and care. I know Emily is in the good hands of God. David is also doing well, too.”
As I look around the living room, I see a black and white portrait of Emily – only to remind me, this was not a dream. She is not here anymore.560Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbEOiUCpwzI
and then Add to home screen.