Lilkó was born with a purple body and a cocked head

Lilkó was born with a purple body and a cocked head
Lilkó was born with a purple body and a cocked head
Anonim

Ági gave birth to her first daughter in a capital hospital without a doctor or midwife.

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During the 33-hour labor, almost no one cared about her except her husband, nor were they informed that she had a cesarean section and that her little girl was completely purple and motionless after the birth. Would you like to share your birth story? Send it to us at this address!

Once upon a time there was a Lilkó. His birth was preceded by a long labor, which is what I am writing about now. I would like to start the story by saying that I didn't have an accepted doctor or midwife with whom I would have increased my natural gravity with an envelope. I did not think that this could be such a handicap and that I would be so lonely during the long hours of labor. Fortunately, my memories are only jagged images of these hours. With Hollywood simplicity, I naively thought labor was a few deep sighs, a little wet forehead… and the little hero was born. My story was much more complicated and long.

But let's start at the beginning. I knew from the literature that you should go to the hospital in case of uterine contractions lasting five minutes. I woke up my husband at dawn and after a few minutes we left for the hospital in the next street, where I was immediately received. After the quick examination, I hid in my hospital nightgown and waited in the examination room. After a few minutes, a midwife escorted me to the table in the corridor, where someone was already sitting on one of the chairs - i.e. in labour. I thought, just a little more administration and I can relax in a bed. By the time it was sunny outside, they indicated that a bed had become available and I could go. I felt very lucky, because those who came after me only had seats on the chairs next to the dining tables in the labor room. Meanwhile, they "served" lunch, which was green bean stew with meat. I read somewhere that we should avoid puffy foods before giving birth, but I thought there are as many recommendations as there are literature.

There was a full house in the labor room, desert heat and the strong smell of leftover bean stew until early evening. Because then someone finally collected the almost untouched plates. This room differed from an average ward in that almost no one talked to each other here, yet it was a huge noise, as moans fell from everyone like overripe fruit from a tree. No one spoke, but everyone understood the other, we understood each other's pains, which only we women can feel, and which only got stronger. A common balcony opened from the room, which connected the rest room of the midwives and doctors with the labor room. By walking up and down, I dug an almost deep bed on the balcony, and since there wasn't much to look at, I stared at the objects left on the table, most of which were cigarette boxes and lighters.

Meanwhile, the shadows outside were slowly diminishing, and the contractions were hurting me more and more. So everyone in the room was lonely, and over time the people around me dwindled. Early in the evening, a midwife came in and took me to a room where the remaining 4 people received enemas and a little cosmetic treatment around the dam. We did not receive any further instructions, but we did receive promises that we would soon be admitted to one of the parents' rooms. From here on, after 7, i.e. seven hours, I was able to enter the delivery room, of which I spent 3 hours moaning completely alone in my bed. Finally someone took pity and brought a rubber ball and suggested that I sit on it in the hot shower. This human word was very good, not to mention the shower, which eased the pain a little.

I really don't want to blame anyone, I am aware that with the merger of the he alth care institutions, everyone has to work a lot more, everyone is very tired, so I can't expect them to goof around in addition to the obligatory monologues.

At one in the night they finally pushed me into the delivery room. My husband, who had been reading a short novel sitting in the corridor since the beginning of the promise he had received since the early hours of the evening, was then able to come to me in the delivery room. She was wearing a cool little steel blue surgical gown and I finally got love, good words, comfort and hope. The doctors changed in the delivery room, from which I learned that there was another shift change, so time is passing. Fatigue and pain had become independent in me and I still did not believe that so much pain could fit in one moment. My head was ringing like a dropped bell and my face was numb from gasping for air. My husband held my hand the whole time, read, kept the rest of my soul in me, stuffed grape candies in my mouth. Since I was connected to the NST machine, I could only change position or place if someone came out with great difficulty in the night and disconnected me from the machine.

Then the morning began to fade and the shadows grew rapidly. At around 9 o'clock, a team in white coats finally came in and informed us that we would soon start giving birth. Then they went on, and we waited. Finally, one of the doctors came back and the expulsion phase could begin. By then I felt very weak and tired, I tried to follow the instructions with veiled eyes and almost plugged ears. And the child just didn't come, even though I did everything I could in my own interest. Then I lost the thread and my consciousness. I found out later that I had a cesarean section, when my leg was put in a stirrup after the birth and a doc's tailor sewed my frame with a speed that would put a doctor's tailor to shame. But I had to ask about that too, no one said they had been cut. But let's get back to the end of my story. The umbilical cord was wrapped around the child's head twice, it was completely purple and its head hung motionless. According to the testimony of the photographs, the chief doctor, who was called to help during the expulsion stage, clapped her hand over her mouth in fear when she saw this. Of course, this little thing didn't even appear in my final report.

Anyway, all's well that ends well. After a while, our child, Lilkó, cried on my breast, and by this time I was at my wits' end, tears of joy fell from my eyes and I suddenly forgot all the pain of the previous 33 hours. My happiness acquired a meaning beyond the dictionary, which has lasted ever since!

July 26, 2007

Branch

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