They say that no matter how you think you could never forget the precious memories of your first pregnancy, or every single detail of your labor, as time goes by the memories will fade. Not that I relish the thought of reliving those painful hours of labor, but still.. I want to be able to look back one day and reminisce on those special firsts.
I first found out I was pregnant in my hotel room at the
Doubletree Guest Suites on
Westheimer. In Houston. I was late. We were trying. So I figured why not get a home-pregnancy test and find out. And sure enough, the result was positive. I was beside myself with joy. I actually
yeayy-ed and rolled gleefully in bed. I called
Yassir right away, who (surprise, surprise) sounded almost normal. Nothing compared to how excited I was. I actually went out to the Galleria Mall that very night and bought the What To Expect When You're Expecting book. A wonderful guide and companion through those nine months and after. Still, I suppose
Yassir's reaction was the more appropriate. His first
response was
Alhamdulillah. Praise to Allah.
I first felt baby
Idris kick in the early hours of the morning one day. I was lying in bed. Too lazy to get up and get ready for work. Absentmindedly, I put my hand on my tummy. And suddenly I felt a little kick. I yelped. I was stunned. He was real. Alive and kicking inside me. I couldn't contain my awe and shook
Yassir who was sleeping beside me. Woke him up just to tell him. I would later relive the moments again to
Mazz and Na. All excited.
Heh. I used to feel his little knees moving all the time towards the later stage of my pregnancy. Even now when I look at him and lovingly stroke those little legs and feet, I can't help but remember how those little knees used to feel. They used to be a reassuring sign that baby was okay. (Okay, I can be slightly paranoid. Particularly in those last couple of weeks.)
The imminent birth of baby
Idris first hit us at our 38
th week check-up. When the doctor nonchalantly announced that I could deliver the baby that very day if I wanted to. But I hadn't felt any pain. Apparently I had already opened up 2cm and all she had to do was break my water and the contractions would start. So she said. I looked at
Yassir and was like "Do I have to?". Luckily, doctor said there's no harm in waiting. So we left the clinic and went for breakfast. I could hardly eat. The thought of labor being so
impendingly close was unnerving. I told
Yassir as much. And he told me to relax. He was excited too he said. (Finally.
Heh.)
28
th November 2007. The evening before I had gone for a walk in the park. People say walking helps expedite labor. Maybe. That night I felt a little bit of pain now and then. But I had no idea if they were contractions (I do now). And I woke up with a bit of pressure on the perineum. Like something was pushing against it. Of course, my mum said when I told her at breakfast. It's the baby already engaged and ready to go. Still, we left for work like any other day.
I was tremendously busy at work that day. I may have felt more of those slight pains. But I don't quite remember. I was too caught up in work to really notice. I didn't even manage any potty-breaks the whole morning. Got ready to go out for lunch with
Echah that day. Stopped at the loo on the way out. And there it was. Blood. I knew it was time. I called
Yassir who was meeting his contractors
offsite and he rushed back. Then called my mum to break the news. I told her I was scared and almost broke into tears. But I had to be strong. This was it.
He drove me to the clinic. We had lunch and then checked in with the nurse. Right away, I was admitted. They made me change. Listened to the baby's heartbeat. And asked us to wait. It was 2:30 in the afternoon and
Yassir and I were starting to get bored. Restless. Had we come too soon, we thought? But then the nurse came to check on me and informed us that I had already opened up to 4cm. The labor had definitely started.
About 3pm-
ish, we went into the labor room. An IV drip was administered. And now it was me and
Yassir sitting in this cold-looking room. The pain had started to become more regular. More intense. Soon I would have
Yassir helping massage my back. Through it all he would remind me to
istighfar and pray for an easy labor. When things seemed so tough and I felt like giving up, he would patiently encourage me. Telling me what a good job I was doing. What a strong girl I was. He was there all the way. Massaging my eyebrows in an attempt to calm me down and get me to relax. This at a time when I was furiously shaking my head from side to side in pain. Biting down on a towel to drown out my screams. Man, it truly did hurt. When I think of it, I almost don't want to ever go through something even remotely similar ever again. But as countless mothers have said, much to my disbelief back then, you do forget how painful it really was. Even now, only 2 weeks past, I cannot truly remember.
I remember checking the clock time and again. I had subconsciously decided to be ready to push by 5:30pm. God knows why I decided on that earlier on. Maybe I had decided that 2-3 hours of labor would be enough torture. Miraculously, sure enough the nurse finally decided it was time to call the doctor. (Talk about the power of the subconscious mind.
Heh.) I was so relieved. It would soon be over.
Pushing was hard too. Amazingly, by that time I could no longer feel the contractions. I actually had to get the nurse to tell me when I was having one so that I could push. Maybe I was so intent on the pushing. Focusing all effort and concentration on getting baby out. Took a few times. Maybe 5 or 6 pushes, before he finally did. And I could eerily feel his limbs being pulled out. Then there he was. Put on top of my belly. A baby covered in that cheesy coat of
vernix. And some
meconium. It was over. And all I felt was huge relief. Finally the ordeal was over.
After that I had to put up with the delivery of the placenta and the
episiotomy repair. I was feeling impatient. I just wanted it to be done with. I wanted to see the baby. Hold the baby. But that had to wait. When the nurses finally gave the go,
Yassir recited the
azan and
iqamah in his ears. And later on, they would let me nurse him for the very first time. I don't know if he even managed to get any milk right then. But it didn't really matter I guess. Then as I was trying to nurse him, my parents came into the labor room. And my dad said,
"Dah ada baby dah dia.." Like I was a little child. I wonder how it must have felt. To see your baby girl now a mother.
Exhausted. Exhilarated. Baby
Idris is finally born. I remember he looked huge when he was first born. And he stayed awake the whole hour that we stayed in the labor room afterwards. His eyes roving around. I was amazed to see a much smaller version of him the very next day. And even smaller the days after. Apparently babies shrink. Still, now baby
Idris is as cute as ever. So tiny and fragile. How I wish we could freeze time and capture his fragility. Those delicate little features.
So there. Memories of my firstborn. And looking back, I am thankful for a relatively easy and short labor. And for
Yassir who stood by my side all the way through. Thank you
sayang. I love you so.
