Remembering the details

This time last year, I was in my final stages of labour. The nurses and doctors were scrambling to get ready since I'd come to the hospital almost ready to push the baby out...Well, not almost but then they did make me wait for an hour in the corridor since all the rooms were full. I was practically passing out from the pain but paradoxically the pain also kept me conscious. I was screaming my lungs out after having put up with it all quietly for more than 10 hours. At that stage I was beyond caring. I didn't care if my screaming annoyed anyone; I didn't care how it would appear; I didn't care if I could be heard beyond the hospital. I just screamed because it felt good to scream.

And then suddenly - very suddenly, it was all over. The doctor plopped the sticky slimy slippery baby atop my tummy. I know this is supposed to be a beautiful moment, the happiest moment ever and all that - but really I just felt strange and disconnected. If I could have talked I'd have probably said 'What's this?'. I was too weak to talk and totally out of things. Someone - a doctor or nurse whisked the baby away to be cleaned and examined. I didn't take an epidural or drugs (by choice) but I was still feeling distant and foggy (I was losing blood). I heard Kuttipa crying and crying and suddenly quietening down as soon as my husband spoke to him. And so for the next hour my husband kept talking to him while the doctors were bustling around me. Things started looking up after we left the delivery room and were moved to a recovery room. The nurses were awesome and very supportive. My husband and my parents were there. Kuttipa was right with me, asleep on my chest and I savoured the delight of becoming a mother.

A year later I can look back and say this has been a crazy year, a happy year, a beautiful year - what a trip! And my darling babe, my precious one, my love, my life, my dearest kuttipa, happy birthday to you! Wishing you health and happiness and lots and lots of birthdays!