The Birth Story, Part I

Let's first say hello to Bob a.k.a Nilakanti Anjani Suryoputro. Baby Kanti was born on Nov. 15, 7.55 a.m., and obviously that is the reason why I haven't written stuff for so long.

She's over a month old now, and slowly we're getting to know each other and how each other works. Don't ask about the lack of sleep I've had in the past month. To describe the night shifts in one word is ancur-ancuran.

Now, about her birth. I, of course, had been dreaming and aiming for a spontaneous delivery, followed by nursing her as early as I could. In my head, I'd been ready to welcome a red, fat baby in the delivery room where I and my husband would hold her with what else but joy.

In reality, none of those happened. A week before Nov. 15, my ob-gyn said a vaginal delivery was unlikely because Kanti was breech and she had her umbilical cord tied around her neck, twice. I was bummed at first, but then I decided not to fret about how she was born, as long as she was born. C-section it is.

A week later, it was time. The night before the procedure, I couldn't sleep at all. Literally hundreds of things was going through my head. But again, I didn't care as long as she was born healthy and happy.

The nurses took me to the OR at around 7 a.m. It felt like what C-section should feel like, according to what I read on the Internet. I could see from that big, round glass above my head the reflection of her being pulled out of my stomach...blue.

I kept asking one of the doctors who stayed near my head where my baby was, and how she was doing. She answered vaguely that the doctors were taking a good care of her. I could hear the sound of those suction tubes being pushed down Kanti's throat and how she let out just a few small cries. I knew something was not right, but somehow, maybe due to the epidural effect, I did not panic.

Thirty minutes later, they were done with me and I was transferred to the recovery room, still no baby. I didn't know what happened, and didn't even know how my baby looked like. A few minutes later Bangun approached me with a smile on his face, but I knew there was a story behind that smile.

Kanti, it turned out, was choked by her umbilical cord, which caused a stress and made her difficult to breathe. Or as the pediatrician said, she had asphyxia, which explained the blue little butt cheeks I saw when I saw her.

A not-breathing baby? Just about my nightmare.

When the doctors ran an initial check-up on her, she also had a hypoglycemia, or low blood sugar condition. She had to take fluid inserted through an IV, and observed in the intensive care unit for any sign of trauma after her short asphyxia. I could not breastfeed her during the most important period of her life, nor could I even hold her.

A baby kept away in the NICU? Another nightmare.

I somehow couldn't bother to cry or be sad. Maybe my emotions were still so messed up. Or maybe I knew she'd be OK in no time. I think it was a bit of both. 

The nurses took her to the recovery room and I was given a chance to kiss her briefly before they continued their way to the NICU.  It was then I realized we had a long road ahead of us to bring her back where she belonged; right with us in our room.