It is 12 a.m. Day 3 at hospital! Tense. Nervous.... and busy!
Contractions - they are beginning to behave like a freight train - that's what the nurse says! Once they start, there is nothing you can about it. Epidural has been administered. Have no fanciful expectations. The pain is reduced but not killed completely. So, I have her screaming in pain.
There are a lot of machines and a lot of displays. They show real time heart rate of the mom and the baby, a graph track the contractions, and the drips go on like time - orderly, unstoppable.
The universe is dancing to a rhythm that started with a slow base speed but soon gained tempo. It has come to a moderate rhythm - one that is surely going to be sustained for several hours. The hospital room bloats up every 4 minutes as the contractions peak and stays severely stretched for about a minute. There is a moment of calm and then, another peak hits. She has sprained her neck - too many liquids being pushed intravenously probably has something to do with it. So, I have to push her head upwards to help her push with every contraction. Time is passing in units of 4 minutes - cyclical! Like a long hard ritual to please a very moody and angry and dissatisfied God who is not easy to please. We wait for the water to break, literally.
The nurse looks under the sheets and comes up with a number - 8, 9, 11 and so one. This is called dialation - a woman's body opening up to give birth. It is almost science fiction. The bigger the number, the farther ahead into the journey you are. Not that you could go back, but the farther you are, the lesser you need to cover. This dilation stuff is the talk of the town when pregnant women meet. It is kinda the milestones markers on the road to motherhood.
There is a lot going on. I am phasing in and phasing out. I steal a few moments and pray. Hard.
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