Note: I wrote this eight (8) years ago, but somehow did not get to publish it. So the post says I'm 42 years old, but I'm actually already 50. The baby in the story is already seven, abut to turn 8,
I'm a 42-year old milk machine
No longer so efficient
Some may even go so far
As to say I am deficient.
My fifth baby was born last month, fourteen years and 7 months after my fourth, and she has brought me one lesson in humility after another.
The lessons started with the realization that I was possibly pregnant. At a time when my life felt finally settled for the next few years, it was disturbing to think of the disruption a pregnancy would cause. I didn't even think then of the disruption a baby would be after he/she was born. It was also scary to think that I was already so much older than when I had my first four children, and I was quite unfit, physically. And the financial burden was another matter to worry about.
The first lesson in humility I got from my baby was the uncertainty and insecurity the possibility of pregnancy brought.
I put off confirming the pregnancy, but I knew that doing so could put my baby at risk. So I looked for a friend I hadn't seen in years who had become an Ob-Gyne. I needed someone who would understand my fears and treat me lika a friend, not just another patient in a whole line of patients.
My second lesson in humility was the need to seek out help. For me, who had always been self-sufficient and independent, going out of my way to ask for help was a new experience.
At around six months I went for my checkup and told my Ob-Gyne that I felt my uterus pressing down. She did an internal exam and confirmed that it was indeed low. She prescribed bed rest to ensure the baby didn't come out prematurely. I was used to working or proceeding with my regular activities until the day before delivery, and having to stay in bed at six months was a real blow to me. This was my third lesson in humility, that I was indeed unfit to carry my pregnancy through under normal circumstances.
It was a blessing for me that my boss allowed me to work from home from my bed. I wasn't always very good about the staying in bed part of it, but just being spared the daily travel from home to work which took 3-4 hours was a huge blessing in ensuring I didn't deliver prematurely. This was my fourth lesson in humility, having to ask for special consideration at work.
A fifth lesson in humility which was not at all difficult for me, but which I consider a lesson in humility nonetheless, was the gift of an aunt of quite a large sum of money to help with my delivery. I am very grateful to her and all the others who extended (and continue to extend) a helping hand, quite often with a cash gift included.
Thirty-six weeks, the milestone we were watching out for, came and went and we were relieved that the baby was not born premature. I had two incidents of early contractions which, thankfully, stopped. And the day came when I was really going to give birth.
The delivery gave me two huge lessons in humility. I was so proud of my four normal deliveries, all without anesthesia and with me wide awake. I was so good at delivering babies I didn't utter a single bad word nor moan nor groan much. But now it was different. At a certain point the nurse remarked that my pain tolerance was so high, I wasn't complaining. She didn't know I had just texted my Ob-Gyne to please put me to sleep and give me an epidural for the delivery. My Ob-Gyne replied: Do you want to be asleep now or during active labor? Oh my! I wasn't even in active labor yet and already the pain seemed more that I could take. She decided to put me to sleep so I would be awake to push during active labor, and I had about an hour of sleep. I woke up to find that they were preparing me for the epidural. But before the anesthesia took effect I still had some time of contractions that were so painful and so long it seemed that there was no rest between them. I couldn't help myself I groaned and moaned and cried. The pretense of a high pain threshold was totally abandoned. I was weak and I couldn't take the pain. The sixth lesson in humility was this total dissolution of the stoicism I had been proud of from my days as a child playing stupid pain challenging games in the playground.
The seventh lesson came close at the heels of the sixth. My pride at having had four normal deliveries was totally gone. I got, as I had asked for, an epidural. I couldn't take the labor pains millions of women handle every day all over the world. From reading "The Good Earth" by Pearl Buck, I had always had the idea that delivering a child should be as easy as going out to the fields and squatting on the ground. At least it should be that easy for a strong woman. This was my seventh lesson: to have to accept that I was not a strong woman; that I was not the strong woman I believed I was. I even needed help from the doctors and the nurses to push my baby out.
The interesting thing about having an epidural was that this was the first time I really felt the baby coming through the birth canal, first the head, then the shoulders followed by the body until the feet came out. It is really quite a strange feeling.
After the delivery, the baby was allowed to latch on and I got to hold her for a while. However, something was wrong with me so they had to take the baby away and put her in the nursery. I was looking forward to rooming in with her but my blood pressure had gone up and the doctors needed to stabilize it first. I gave birth at around 4 pm and it was only around 6 am the following morning when I was deemed well enough to go to the nursery to feed my baby. To my chagrin I learned that my baby had been given formula. This inability to breastfeed my baby in the best way has been a continuing lesson in humility (my eighth). I, who always had so much milk in the past now struggle to feed my baby. The pediatrician thinks she isn't gaining enough weight and I am worried that on our next visit to the pediatrician she will say I need to supplement my breastmilk with formula. I am eating twice the amount of food I normally would to make sure I am not lacking in nutrition. I am taking a supplement to increase lactation and drinking a milk product as well.
The ninth lesson in humility is having to deal with the depression hormones bring after delivery. I've always prided myself in being very mentally stable. Psychiatrists I have had the need to converse with have always remarked how sane I was. Now I cry without reason at odd times of the day. I have sometimes put the baby down and left her to cry. I've gone as far as mixing her formula and trying to feed her from a bottle.
And the tenth lesson in humility? It is that, despite four grown up children and one grandchild, this baby is like my first child all over again. I feel so ignorant and so unprepared. And I guess it shows, because I have been asked by various people, including total strangers, nurses and other medical staff: "Ma'am, is this your first child?"
No, she is not my first child, she is my fifth child. But for the first time I have been granted the gift of these ten lessons in humility, for which I am truly grateful.
