My Birth Story – Part Two.

My Birth Story – Part Two.

“Can you hear her crying?” the anaesthesiologist asked.
“She’s here! Congratulations!”
Unlike the movies this time, I was not able to see her right after they got her out of me. She was taken away to have the APGAR test and be cleaned, while I was getting stitched for the following 30 minutes.
I was glad that my anaesthesiologist had stayed with me during the whole surgery and explained everything that was going on and supported me emotionally.


To back up a little, here I was on the operating table: IV in my arm, various monitors in place around me-to keep an eye on my heart rate, breathing and blood pressure- arms strapped down to the table, and a privacy sheet between me and the doctors -all while still wearing an FFP2 mask, mind you.

Tawa was right next to me, and I could see the excitement in his eyes.
Believe it or not, the OR was such a peaceful place to be in in that moment.
The bright lights were not tiresome, the doctors friendly, the midwives helpful, and the mood? As good as it gets. I was so excited.

I knew in that moment that I was going to see my daughter soon.
“My daughter!”, I thought. I had 8 months of pregnancy to get used to that term, to the idea, to motherhood being my reality, and yet I could not believe this was really happening! I was so excited.

During all the tugging and pulling, Thea was born, my placenta was pulled out, and soon enough I was ready to be stitched up.

After giving me these updates, the anaesthesiologist knew I was worried about a lot of blood loss so she also reassured me that I had less than average blood loss. Yay.
However, *surprise surprise* I wasn’t that reassured, because then I got worried about a postpartum haemorrhage. A piece of placenta that gets left behind and causes me an infection. So many thoughts. Oh how wild my brain went. “It’s what you get for getting informed about a surgery beforehand and reading too much about it. Is ignorance a bliss?” I thought.

Before I knew it though, I was in my room with Thea on my chest.
Let me tell you, the moment they gave her to me, all the pain in the world felt it could wait and all the worries and all the anxiousness of the c-section somehow disappeared as I gazed into her beautiful eyes. She had such a small face – as all premature babies do- and it was such a familiar face, Tawa and I agreed.
It was like looking at the both of us at once.

For 8 months I thought “I can’t wait to meet this stranger, I wonder what she looks like”.
I finally knew the answer to that. She looks like home, and we are always going to be hers.

Thea was born 2210g and 47cm, with thick brown hair, beautiful round eyes and stole our hearts in a second.

A few days later she got jaundice, but that’s a story for another time.

Cheers to a new chapter, cheers to you Thea. May you always be healthy and happy and grow to be a smart and successful woman surrounded by people who love you a love you truly deserve.

*raises bottle of milk to toast*


My Birth Story – Part One.

My Birth Story – Part One.

I look at her and I can’t believe she’s mine. Right this moment, as I write my birth story, she’s in her crib next to me and I look at her like she’s…magic. Even though it didn’t feel like it at the time, I’ve indeed created it. My own magic, all mine to love and hold till the rest of time.

I’m not sure where to begin with, but to give you a bit of background I’ll walk you through my pregnancy journey really quickly.

The day I found out I was pregnant, I could not contain my happiness and rushed to the next room to tell Tawa as soon as the test came back positive. Wait, scratch that. As soon as he finished a meeting he had at work. Alright fine, in between meetings, he only had two minutes to absorb the news before his next one.
You can clearly see how working from home was like a blessing to me, because can you imagine having to wait for him to get home to tell him? With my impatience? I highly doubt it.

Anyhow, nausea aside, the only thing that annoyed – and surprised – me during pregnancy was how much I needed to pee the whole damn time. I couldn’t leave home for 15 minutes without having to search for a public toilet -like my life depended on it.
My mood swings were terrible by the third trimester, but it was all worth it and I was so eager to finally meet her.

Apparently, so was she.

On November 9th, one month ago today, I woke up at 2am – once again- to pee, or so I thought.
As soon as I sat down, I heard a little pop, followed by a gush of water. I froze. I wondered if that’s my water breaking, but as I was half asleep I decided I must be going crazy. After all, I still had 6 weeks until my due date. “I must be dreaming”, I kept convincing myself.

So I went back to my room and as I was getting into bed, I realized water was gushing out of me once more, and I did not have any control over my bladder. “IT IS JUST LIKE IN THE MOVIES”, I thought. Right, except in the movies they are usually prepared for it.
I stood there for a minute processing what just happened. That pop wasn’t me dreaming. That was not an urge to pee. That was my water breaking, at 34 + 5 weeks, in Berlin Germany, and I was about to give birth.

I woke Tawa up by saying very calmly “Tawa my water broke”, so he got out of bed faster than I’ve ever seen him get out of bed, and asked me what he can do to help and if it’s a good idea to call the midwife, and I think I let my phone ring twice before realizing it was 2 am in the morning. I hung up and started packing my hospital bag because guess what? I thought I still had 6 weeks to do it.

As soon as I was done with that, I wore a DIAPER to go to the hospital, as I was still losing water and it did not occur to me to call an ambulance for help. I just needed to get there and understand what’s what. Was I actually about to give birth? Would they send me home with some meds and ask me to wait and stay on bed rest?

I was not emotionally prepared for it. I needed time to process, I kept thinking, and time was the one thing I did not have.

15 minutes later, I got to the hospital where I had planned to give birth in December.
They started to monitor me and confirmed I was having contractions, and that they needed to move me to another hospital with an intensive care unit for premature babies.
It felt like yet another slap in the face: not only was I having a premature baby, I also did not have control over which hospital I get to give birth in!

An ambulance took me to the second hospital, where I was examined once again, only to find out I am 4cm dilated – and with a breech premature baby, a vaginal delivery would be a big risk.

The doctor explained to me my options and I decided to naturally opt for a c-section. If I remember correctly, I think they started to prep me for surgery around 6:30 am.

SURGERY. I always need a moment to process this word when I tell this story.

I remember they gave me something to drink for the acid reflux that could happen during the OP, and they took me to have the anaesthesia afterwards.
The anaesthesiologist told me to bend my back and relax my shoulders so she can proceed, and I couldn’t for the life of me get my goddamn shoulders to relax.

I remember thinking “how do you expect me to relax when you’re about to cut me open when I wasn’t even expecting this to happen tonight? Take me back home so I can finish sleeping in peace!”
Then it hit me, yet again, that this is actually happening.

I asked them to bring me my phone, and as soon as I had it, I played some german songs I liked -songs for kids I first learned when I got to Germany- and I started singing them out loud to forget where I am and what is about to happen. To my surprise, the nurses and midwives in the OR started singing with me. It worked. I forgot where I was, I was able to relax my shoulders and next thing I knew, I was ready for surgery.