Wednesday, December 15, 2004
Vulnerability
Caution: written on the 24th hour of being awake, caffein loaded and at utmost vulnerability.
When was the last time, your emotions took control of your entire conduct of being?
Last night mine did.
The handover took about 3 seconds from Kevin. Evidently he 's not had much to do during the day, I thought, jolly good, this might just continue throughout the night. I was so wrong.
In the Unit, all babies seemed to have got themselves into , either some weird and wonderful tangle with the umbilical cords or some mishap with the sac, which warranted them to be conjured out of their cocoons by means of C-sections.
Urghh, very vaginal I thought initially.
After few pokings and stabbings in the back of their respective mothers, 3 babies were brought into the welcoming, wonderful planet called earth. It was probably 3 am in the morning, and I felt very detached, very tired, dry and the last thing I wanted to do was to fake that I was overjoyed. Maybe a slight relief that everything was going according to plan, but overjoyed would be pushing it a bit.
I was almost laughing and crying at the same time when they told me that another woman needed to go to theatre, and she's carrying twins!
She had a good back and my job was made easy. I was pleased but completely shattered. Couldn't keep my eyes opened.
The husband came in with this lady and sat at the head end. I did not see a single minute that went by without his hand clutched tightly to hers, intertwined, weaved in with a few tender kisses and when deemed necessary he gently stroked her hair. Right on cue.
Love definitely infused that bit of the theatre. I definitely felt it. His eyes never left hers, as if it's a betrayal to not do that and he was not the kind that does that. I could just tell. She, on the other hand, was completely at ease.
A loud deafening debut cry came from behind the 'bluepeter' blind. The surgeons muttered something that must have meant 'the first one is out'. Both of them were tembling, his body crouched low to her face, embracing , shuddering together, reclusing into their own world. The world of joy.
They were both sobbing uncontrollably possibly captivated by the sounds of the newborn son showing off his lungs, rendered them almost paralysed, unwanting to be united with him yet, scared maybe that they are not ready for this, not good enough for something so beautiful?
There was only a thin green blind separating them from their son. Zillion kisses were planted on her forehead. No doubt he was grateful. No doubt she was ecstatic.Her heart rate jumped from 65 to 122 within 3 seconds.
The son was followed by a much louder cry, almost apologetic cry from another little soul, a baby girl. At this point both were completely helpless. I have never seen a man , with such robust built and composure minutes ago, broke down in tears, shameless. Helpless that he couldn't do anything to console the cries but proud that he was there hanging on to the very person that mattered to him.
I wiped my welled up eyes with the sleeves of my bluescrubs. I remembered then, the reason why I am still the way I am.
Definitely broody, definitely yearning to see a man crying. (Not that anybody needs any kicking in the gonads.)
When was the last time, your emotions took control of your entire conduct of being?
Last night mine did.
The handover took about 3 seconds from Kevin. Evidently he 's not had much to do during the day, I thought, jolly good, this might just continue throughout the night. I was so wrong.
In the Unit, all babies seemed to have got themselves into , either some weird and wonderful tangle with the umbilical cords or some mishap with the sac, which warranted them to be conjured out of their cocoons by means of C-sections.
Urghh, very vaginal I thought initially.
After few pokings and stabbings in the back of their respective mothers, 3 babies were brought into the welcoming, wonderful planet called earth. It was probably 3 am in the morning, and I felt very detached, very tired, dry and the last thing I wanted to do was to fake that I was overjoyed. Maybe a slight relief that everything was going according to plan, but overjoyed would be pushing it a bit.
I was almost laughing and crying at the same time when they told me that another woman needed to go to theatre, and she's carrying twins!
She had a good back and my job was made easy. I was pleased but completely shattered. Couldn't keep my eyes opened.
The husband came in with this lady and sat at the head end. I did not see a single minute that went by without his hand clutched tightly to hers, intertwined, weaved in with a few tender kisses and when deemed necessary he gently stroked her hair. Right on cue.
Love definitely infused that bit of the theatre. I definitely felt it. His eyes never left hers, as if it's a betrayal to not do that and he was not the kind that does that. I could just tell. She, on the other hand, was completely at ease.
A loud deafening debut cry came from behind the 'bluepeter' blind. The surgeons muttered something that must have meant 'the first one is out'. Both of them were tembling, his body crouched low to her face, embracing , shuddering together, reclusing into their own world. The world of joy.
They were both sobbing uncontrollably possibly captivated by the sounds of the newborn son showing off his lungs, rendered them almost paralysed, unwanting to be united with him yet, scared maybe that they are not ready for this, not good enough for something so beautiful?
There was only a thin green blind separating them from their son. Zillion kisses were planted on her forehead. No doubt he was grateful. No doubt she was ecstatic.Her heart rate jumped from 65 to 122 within 3 seconds.
The son was followed by a much louder cry, almost apologetic cry from another little soul, a baby girl. At this point both were completely helpless. I have never seen a man , with such robust built and composure minutes ago, broke down in tears, shameless. Helpless that he couldn't do anything to console the cries but proud that he was there hanging on to the very person that mattered to him.
I wiped my welled up eyes with the sleeves of my bluescrubs. I remembered then, the reason why I am still the way I am.
Definitely broody, definitely yearning to see a man crying. (Not that anybody needs any kicking in the gonads.)
