Fifty-two years ago tonight, my mother went into labor with me and I have heard the story so many times; it is a cold and lonely version of what should have been wonderful in every way except for the obvious discomfort of pushing a baby out of your body. And I have never remembered to say "thanks for that..."
How impolite.
She was taken into an operating room where there were other women screaming in agony in their various stages of birthing. They were all lying on metal gurneys. Without any cushioning. Without any blankets. Without their husbands. Without gentle encouragement from anyone. Cold, hard gurneys and them.
My mother was freezing, but shaking more from the pain than the cold. She asked the nurse on duty if she could sit up and the nurse’s kind words were: “Shut up and just have a good pain!”
Nice.
When I think about the way things are these days, with birthing rooms, privacy, our husbands in the room with us, blankets that are warmed and draped carefully over us, pillows, loving care on so many levels, I cannot imagine anyone having to endure the icy cold metal harshness that my Mom put up with. And the distraction of all those other women crying out in pain all around her is unimaginable…and unnecessary.
Oh well.
After she had me, she saw me only for a moment and then “they” took me away for 3 days and would not allow her to see me even once because according to them I “wasn’t eating enough”…she reasoned with them that I would probably eat if I was with my mother, but they rejected her plea.
On the 4th day, she’d had it and somehow stepped it up a notch as the POWERFUL ONE and demanded that they get me ready to go home. They said “but you need to have a day of dangling your feet…before you can think about going home.”
Dangle? Not.
We left, escaped together…I ate just fine and have been the PERFECT DAUGHTER ever since…HA!
So, Mom, thanks for being brave enough to finally say “piss-on-this-Nurse-Nancy” and bring me home. Good job!
Ruby
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