Kaisan's Birth Story -Part 2

4th February 2012

I would lie if I said waking up that day was like enjoying a cold piece of popsicles (I’M DYING FOR SOMETHING COLD TO DRINK/EAT NOW I’M IN MY CONFINEMENT!)

The pain was still there but bearable. Now that I can feel my whole body again, I tried to move here and there a bit just to get the blood flow nicely. According to Doctor Balqiz’s theory, if I move a lot I will heal faster and I can get discharge from the hospital fast.

I’m grateful I’m able to give birth in a private hospital with my own private room and all but there’s no place like home and besides, the Mister has been sleeping uncomfortably on a chair close by that I can’t bear to see him suffer one more night for me.

Around 8am, nurses came and pulled out the urine tube. This time I squawked like a crow chop in half by the neck. UNPLEASANT. Then the nurse said, “Please inform us once you urinated” Translation: PLEASE GET UP TO THE TOILET AND PEE ON YOUR OWN COZ THERE’S NO MORE PLASTIC TUBE TO GATHER YOUR URINE WHILE YOU LIE LIKE A RICH SPOIL DIVA ON THE BED.

The message was loud and clear. I need to sit up, stand up and walk all about and pee.

The Mister helped me to get up [OW! OW! OW!] and ever so slowly propped me up to sit [OW! OW! OW!] and I stood up [OW! OW! OW! OW! OW! BLOODY HELL! OW! OW! OW! SON OF A *****! OW! OW! OW! OW!] and walked slowly to the toilet and OH MY GOD WHY IS THE TOILET SEAT SO FUCKING LOW IS THIS A NEW FORM OF TORTURE FOR ME TO CONFESS MY SIN? YES! I HAVE SIN! I ATE CHOCOLATE AND ICE-CREAMS DURING MY PREGNANCY! I AM A BAD MOTHER! THERE! CAN SOMEONE LIFT THE TOILET SEAT UP HIGHER SO I CAN SIT WITHOUT BURSTING MY STITCHES WIDE OPEN AND SPLATTER MY GUTS ALL OVER THE FLOOR?

Fat chance. So, ever so slowly the Mister helped to lower me down and believe me, it took my ass FOREVER to touch the toilet seat. I swear I can pop out another baby with that time alone. The toilet seat felt so far and the pain of my stitches was beyond any curses I can come up with.

When I finally sat, the ordeal just begun. To pee, or not to pee. For a moment there, I forgot how to pee. My mom was in the toilet watching and supervising. The mister was there ready to help me with anything. And there I was, half naked, bleeding down under and lost all my dignity with no shame whatsoever anymore. I was like a train-wreck. And I couldn’t pee. World biggest problem.

I kicked the Mister and my mom out of the toilet and tried to concentrate… PEE GEDEMMIT! PEE! And when I pee… BURN LIKE ALL OF GODDAMN HELL. I think I bend the iron handrail next to the toilet seat.

Maybe I was so quiet and the Mister thought the toilet hole has swallowed his wife, he asked through the door, “Are you okay?” Yes, yes. I’m okay. Aside from being cut open, pulled out a baby from my belly and suffered world most craziest burning sensation from waist down, yes, I’m okay. Let’s have another baby so I can relive this experience all over again. No. I’m not kidding. No. This is not sarcasm. I love you. Marry me again please. No, no. I’m not delirious from the pain and sleep deprivation.

The short ordeal drained my energy to the max. By the time I reached my bed, I was weak as a drown kitten. I fell asleep immediately after kissing my baby’s forehead and mumbled; “He doesn’t smell like roasted chicken anymore. This scent is much better. At least I don’t feel like eating him anymore” and zzzzz….

5th February 2012

I was already walking all about. I was restless just sitting and sleeping and holding my baby was the only interesting thing I can do. So I walked. I sat on the visitor’s chair. I went to check on other people’s babies. I went to the toilet by myself. Pee still BURNS but bearable.

I think the nurses there told my doctor I was already ready to run the marathon that he told me I could go home that day. YAY!

We packed like the demon was chasing our tails. We were that excited to go home.

Oh home sweet home!

We settled down nicely that day. My mom volunteered to stay the night to help since I still can’t move too much. Families came and helped whatever they can.

But at 11pm that night, my mom noticed Kaisan’s body temperature was quite hot. I took a thermometer and his reading was 37.8C. O-oh… Fever?

We rushed back to the hospital and because the pediatric only works in the daytime, we had to see other doctor in charge that night. He said he can’t do anything coz 1) Kaisan is developing jaundice and needs further treatment and 2) The doctor’s shift finish in 2-3 hours so he can’t help much. He insisted we go to the general hospital to get him check up.

Before I proceed, let me just say one thing. I HATE GENERAL HOSPITAL. I have bad experience there many times. When I first had my asthma at 20 years old, I went there and they asked me to WAIT. I was gasping for oxygen and they ask me to wait? WHAT THE…? Exactly. Apparently they only have one machine there and someone else was using it. The second time was when I peed blood. I was crying in pain and they gave me Panadols and asked to go home and come again the next day because their doctors were all busy. From then on, I vow to never go there again.

So when the stupid idiot of a doctor insisted that Kaisan was in a dire state and that he must be send to GH immediately, I cried. I can’t bear to think my baby will be in the hands of those in GH whom I know treated their patients so carelessly.


6th February 2012

Because I felt like I had no choice and I was worried of his condition, we went to GH and they took Kaisan’s temperature. It was 36C. I was so relieve that his temperature went down but the nurses there said he must be admitted because of his jaundice and they want to monitor him in case his fever comes back.

They ushered me to a long room with rows and rows of beds and small container like crib with blue light to put the baby in for phototheraphy. I gulped when I first saw the room. There were 3-4 beds occupied with mothers holding their babies or sleeping or putting their babies underneath the blue light. They asked me to take the nearest bed with instructions that my mom and the Mister cannot be in the room with me in longer than 30 minutes. WHAT? NO! I just had my c-sec! I don’t even know how to hold my baby correctly! I need my mom! I can’t move too much! I need my husband too!

They then proceed to take my baby to a nearby room. They said they are going to take his blood sample to check his jaundice level. I felt weak. Please. Please God. I can’t bear to know my poor baby being poke all about with a needle… they asked me to wait outside and from there, I can hear Kaisan crying so hard. For the first time in his life, he cried so loud and so hard it broke my heart. I couldn’t help but cried too until my chest hurts. The nurses scolded me for crying saying it might give me post-natal depression. MOTHERFUCKER! YOU GUYS ARE JABBING AND POKING AND TORTURING MY BABY AND YOU EXPECT ME TO LAUGH AND REJOICE IS IT? But I kept all my anger to myself. I know if I burst out, they are going to make it hard on me and my baby.

I can’t remember how long Kaisan was with them but I could still hear his scream. I was helpless. I was weak. I was tired. I haven’t sleep in ages. The Mister and my mom were asked to leave and I felt so lost and alone.

When they finally handed me Kaisan, he was naked, there’s IV his left hand and his right hand and feet were blue and green bruises. He was sobbing softly and I to bite my lips so hard. I was in rage. How dare they do this to my baby!!! I asked why is there IV on his hand? What’s the point? He doesn’t have fever! The nurses said it’s in case his fever comes again and they need to give him antibiotic via IV drip. They said it took them ages to find his vein and they had to poke him almost everywhere. I closed my eyes and quelled the urge to kill. They spent nearly an hour poking my son for ONE STUPID IV DRIP FOR FEVER THAT DOES NOT EXIST ANYMORE?! FUCKING HELL!!!!

I hugged Kaisan tight. I swear the nurses will never, ever get to touch him anymore. Over my dead body first! Then they put cotton with cellotape to cover his eyes and asked me to put him in the phototheraphy crib. I think Kaisan was traumatized with what he had experienced that he cried hysterically when I put him in. Unable to hear him scream longer than a second, I took him out and hug his naked quavering body and he quieted down as soon as he felt my body and heard my voice crooning him. My poor, poor baby… then the nurse came and scolded me again for holding him. She said, “If he you keep holding him, he will get use to being carried all about!” I DON’T FUCKING CARE, YOU STUPID CUNT! MY BABY IS SHAKING AND IN PAIN AFTER WHAT YOU DID JUST NOW AND HE NEED SOOTHING! I ignored her and continued hugging Kaisan like as if any moment someone going to snatch him away from me.

Then he whimpered for milk. Shit. GH has this strict breast-feeding only policy and no bottles are allowed. My problem: I was not lactating yet. My baby was hungry and I have no milk to feed him. I asked the nurse for a bottle of milk and explained to her my condition. She refused to give me one instead she said, “When I gave birth to my premature baby, I had no breast milk for close to a month. But I force my baby to latch on my breast and slowly my milk came. In the meantime, I spoon feed milk into her mouth to feed her” so she gave me a spoon and a cup.

My second problem: The formula I brought to the hospital was accidentally left in the bag, which the Mister took back home just now. So there I was with a crying hungry baby and I had no formula whatsoever in hand to “spoonfeed” him and the nurses refused to help whatsoever. I had no choice but to get Kaisan to suck on my milk-less breast. I broke down and cried again. Oh God… I prayed hard and silently please, please God help my baby. He’s hungry and he needs my milk. Please, please God help us… I sobbed to myself. This is not happening. THIS IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE!

As I soothed Kaisan’s weak cry with everything that I can think off, hugging him, talking to him, kissing him, I recited zikir Nabi Yunus in my head over and over again. It slowly helped me to calm down and think properly. That was went suddenly it occurred to me, why didn’t I check with Columbia Asia? I grabbed my phone immediately and gave them a call. I explained to them my situation and the lady said, sure, just bring your baby over and we’ll do everything we can. Just get a release letter from the GH’s doctor and you’re good to go.

Happy that I will get my baby out of this hellhole, I asked the nurses where could I find their specialist. She said he’d come over around 9am. I looked at the watch and it was 5am. Fine. Few more hours. I can do this. I can be patient.

At 6am, a doctor came to do his round. As soon as he reached my bed, I marched up to him and said, “I want to be discharge NOW as so I can bring my baby to Columbia Asia. I want you to write me a release letter NOW. Columbia Asia is my panel hospital and it was a mistake to come here in the first place. So, I would appreciate it if you can speed things up coz I want to go out NOW. I am not going to stay here for 5 days!”

He said he’s not the specialist and that I have to wait at 9am for him to come. FARK. FINE.

Kaisan was already asleep. Tired and exhausted by what he had endured, my baby slept in hunger. This time, I didn’t weep. I think the zikir I recited gave me strength and the ability to think despite deprivation of sleep for more than 2 days.

I told the doctor my husband will be coming soon and I need him to be with me in the room by hook or by crook because of my condition. I gave him no choice but to say yes. Don’t mess with an angry, tired mother!

At 7am, the Mister came and THANK GOD he brought formula. I grabbed the bottle and fed Kaisan and he drank like as if he was never fed before. Again, I held back my sob. Don’t worry son, momma’s bringing you out soon… few more hours and we’re free, I whispered to him.


To be continued...