Birth blog - Part 2

I can’t describe the emotions I went through as I walked into the main hospital door alone with all my suitcases, a feeding pillow, and a cooler bag filled with frozen colostrum – these are feelings and emotions I do not wish on any woman.

I took the hospital lift to the 7^th floor and rang the bell for the birthing suite. Thankfully, I was met with the sweetest midwife and OB/Gynae who was very patient and clearly very passionate about his career, but that didn’t change the fact that my husband was outside the hospital and waiting for an update instead of being by my side.

 

Haike, if you thought that was eventful. After a 20-minute-long scan, the OB/Gynae asks me if I was ever informed about cysts in my uterus because he just found two large cysts, one of which was below our daughter’s head and could potentially block her from coming down or burst during delivery. I’m also in the early stages of pre-eclampsia and cholestasis (cholestasis is the reason my skin was dry and itchy, but I kept being told that it’s normal when it’s certainly not). Defeated is exactly how I felt, but I was still so hopeful and way too calm – maybe because I knew that God and my ancestors were with me.

About 5 hours after arriving, countless blood tests, scans and CTGs, the OB/Gynae said he’d like to get a second and third opinion from his seniors and I’d most likely be attended by the Chefarzt (chief doctor) the next morning, so I’m given my colostrum which was stored in the freezer and off I went to the maternity ward.

 

Well! This is when the trauma and emotional damage begins.

At the ward, I am met by the rudest karen I have met in a hospital – and she’s the head nurse in the maternity ward. The jokes really write themselves.

Before I could even open my mouth, this hun says to me ‘’Ja! Was?’’ (Translates: yes, what? As in ufunani?) in the rudest tone ever. The blackness in me was ready to jump out when her colleague jumped in and saved the day.

I am directed to my room and ask them to please store my colostrum in their freezer, and the same hun that was rude to me a few moments earlier tells me to leave the cooler bag on the counter.

 

The room is a two bed room so there’s another lady there who had just been induced, but her contractions stopped. We chat up a storm like normal people and I tell my husband to go home cause there’s nothing he can do at this point. Dinner comes and I’m not given any food – I ask the nurse in the ward and I’m told that they can’t do anything about it. So, a heavily pregnant me has basically only had breakfast and now there’s no option of getting anything else, so I soldier on, drink water and sleep.

Wow! The emotions just came flooding back and writing this has got me in tears again because I’m 100% certain that an animal would be treated better than I was treated in that ward – at the most vulnerable time of my entire existence!

 

The next morning, I’m woken up by the kitchen lady bringing breakfast – two slices of bread, one slice of ham, a banana, a small yoghurt, and a small cup of coffee. I generally don’t eat bread and when I do, I limit my intake because it constipates me, so I ask the lady if there’s any other option and she says no – it’s bread or nothing. Whatever! I’m not here for the food anyways, but I must mention that if you think the service in South African government hospitals is bad, you need to come to Germany where you can’t even decide between private or public cause it’s a social economy and everyone goes to the same hospital.

 

I shower and start my day with a short walk to the birthing suite where I’m met by the OB/Gynae that was attending to me the night before and the chief doctor. They call in the Head of OB/Gynae and do a scan that confirms the cysts but tell me that a vaginal birth would still be possible, so they’ll start with the induction at 11h00. At this point, I’m excited AF cause in my head, I’m giving birth later that day or the next day (our traditional wedding anniversary). My mom has also arrived in Germany - a few hours before German borders were closed again for South Africa and flights were cancelled. Things are falling into place: God and my ancestors are shining down on me.

 

Lol! Too soon baby girl! Induction starts and I start contracting – mos my period pains are worse than this, so I’m chilled. The maternity ward is still serving me bread, which I don’t eat, but one very kind midwife in the birthing suite shares her food with me.

Did I mention that the rude nurse from the ward did not put my colostrum in the freezer? this b left my colostrum on the exact same spot I left it the day before - I CRIED after seeing that cause so much love and time goes into harvesting colostrum - It's literally the first act of service and care you give to your child, but here I was staring at about 150ml of colostrum collected over days literally going down the drain cause I couldn't use it anymore. You'll read how she later tries to deny this, but I'm smart AF and took a video + pictures.

I go to bed and wake up the next morning to find that the lady I share the room with has given birth.

Later that afternoon, my husband somehow manages to get into the hospital and bring me our anniversary cake and food. The midwife in the birthing suite allows him to stay and I literally beam of joy. I lose my mucus plug and my water broke – it was just as dramatic as it is in the movies, but about an hour after my water broke, the midwife says my husband must leave or she’ll get in trouble, so he leaves, and the contractions stop. Haikhe sana.

The contractions start again later that night, but I’m not dilating.

 

73hours after my first contraction, I decide to wrap it up and ask for a c-section. I’m tired, mentally drained, my arms are sore from drawing blood 3 times a day and IV three times a day. It’s a Friday and German hospitals have ghost staff on weekends, so I also really don’t want to risk anything happening to me or our baby.

The chief doctor prepares all the paperwork (the Germans love their paperwork), I call my husband to come through with his hospital bag and get a covid test, and I walk downstairs to meet the anesthesiologist and sign more paperwork. It’s go time and I’m ready for my gentle c-section… but my husband literally faints when he sees a drop of blood, even from that prick you get when they check your sugar levels, so they can’t do the clear curtains – what a bummer.

 

I’m wheeled into theater at around 16h30, and it is ice cold. I am literally shivering, but they tell me it’s normal. It was initially an all-female and fantastic team of OB/Gynae, anesthesiologists, nurses and midwifes, but the OB/Gynae that first attended to me was also called in. The anesthesiologist administers an epidural, and her first attempt was a fail so she attempts again and gets it right then moves on to the spinal block – none of these were as painful as people say they are. It literally felt like a bit of pressure on my spine. The anesthesiologist walks out and informs my husband about the failed attempt, they prep him and he comes in – at this point I’m on the verge of death, shivering and getting an anxiety attack. My husband calms me down and the surgery begins.

 

At 18h54 (19h54 in South Africa) on 18 December 2020, our daughter Gummy Bear was born weighing 2.78kg and 47cm tall.