A Moment of Being Cared For

Lying on top of the once white with blue stripes sheets, now smeared with blood and parts of my flesh; the growing unease is strong enough to cause my family members to step back into the corner.  I hear an unknown voice speak my name.  My eyes struggle to focus and I can barely make out the doctor sitting at the end of the bed between my bare legs, saying,  “Renee, you push 40% and I’ll pull 60%.”  I’m not sure how I can gather this 40% of energy that seems not to exist. The feeling of exhaustion, the voice beside me telling me I have to push for my baby as his heart rate is dropping quickly, I look over at my mom in the corner, her eyes troubled with worry for her daughter and the unborn baby, and I tuck in my chin and push with what little energy I have left. The doctor pulls the 9.9 lb. baby from my body and I feel lifeless on the bed. Twelve people fill the room as they make sure my son is taking his first breath and that his heart is beating as it should.  My body begins to shake uncontrollably while the placenta is expelled from my swollen and torn vulva.  As the doctor sews up the flesh that lies before him, I can feel the needle pierce my thin and battered skin, with each pull of the thread tightening up the perineum.  A gas mask placed on my face helps to relax the muscles in my body and slows the uncontrollable shivering. An ice pack is placed between my legs and a warm blanket is provided to cover my weak, pale body; I lie in the horror underneath the warm clean sheet.  A woman with blonde shiny hair, that brushes up against a colourful shirt, walks into the room and says that it's time to clean me up and have my bedding changed.  I am so pale that I fade into the sheets, my body deep below sea level, and I can barely lift my head let alone walk the 10 steps to the shower at the front of the maternity room.  The lovely woman picks up my left arm, my husband picks up my right arm; together they lean forward and my upper body begins to rise like the dead in a Halloween horror film.  Taking a moment to gather the oxygen needed by my exhausted muscles, we work together as if in a three legged race, a childhood activity that once brought pure joy and a smile to my face.  Slowly I begin to take steps while letting go of any pride I have left, and allow a stranger and the man I love to carry me across the room, supporting me every step of the way.  I stop to take another breath, almost melting into the white tiles below my feet, and in my mind I can hear the moans of the wicked witch of the west "I’m melting, melting…” One last push and we make it to a tiny stool, waiting in the shower that is covered in ocean blue tiles.  My hospital robe slides off my sagging shoulders and I slump forward gazing down at my bulging abdomen; a 9 month home for my son, now vacant.  The warm water begins to run down my back as I feel a soft and gentle hand sliding along my bare skin.  I can only see clean white sneakers moving around the stool I am now a part of.  Her calm, compassionate voice flows through my ears as I sway back and forth to her gentle commands.  Never have I felt so feeble and never have I felt so loved by a woman I met only moments before and may never see again, not even knowing her name; she now cleans away the remnants of a rite of passage.  My body begins to relax and awaken at the same time.  I close my eyes to thank the kindness of a stranger, embracing the moment of being cared for…