LABOUR PAINS Q19.16-34

During the labour of my 2nd son, I had 2 thoughts.

1. I was involuntarily humming cartoon songs mentally – as I often do to keep my first littlet occupied – instead of the adhkaar I was supposed to make. Music is so powerful!

2. I couldn’t get my mind off Maryam, the mother of Jesus (ASW).

Here I was, in the back of the car, in the throes of pain with my husband speeding to the hospital. I had my overnight bag packed with a change of clothes for myself and the coming baby. I was going to be in safe hands. I would have support from my wonderful husband and his kind sister.

This baby was coming faster than I had anticipated, being a second delivery. I had thought he would take his time like my first had done but apparently, my oven was getting too uncomfortable for him. I had to keep reminding myself to breathe and not push because the urge was intense but I did not want to have him in the car.

‘It’s the Mickey Mouse
Clubhouse
Come inside…,’ my mind sang.

‘No! Thumma sabila yassarau… Thumma sabila yassarau…ooh! Don’t push! Don’t push!’ I muttered instead.
*Deep animal grunt*
*Shallow noisy breathing*

We were at the hospital in record time and I waddled – through a contraction – to the Delivery Room. I knew I couldn’t afford to wait for a wheelchair. Right at the door, my water broke! I was ushered in quickly. It was a couple of minutes after midnight. I was having this baby any time from now.

And I did. A mere 5-10 mins after entering the hospital! Alhamdulillah! (I must have said Alhamdulillah a hundred times immediately after the delivery!)

It was pretty quick compared with my first experience which was looooooong and filled with Intense. White. Dazzling. Pain!

Then I thought of how Maryam (ASW) would have felt all alone in the desert, having her first child, with no support other than Allah – but then, Allah is the Best of supporters! Bearing the excruciating pain alone, no medications to dull the pain, no soft pillows to prop her up, no one to massage her back, mop her brow and encourage her. Small wonder she had cried out that she wished she were dead and forgotten!

The aftermath was similarly bleak. No warm food and drink, no soothing bubble bath and fresh linen, no respite to be allowed to sleep in a soft bed while relations cooed over your new bundle. Instead, she had to be subjected to cynical glances and derision at the hands of people who wondered that she had committed adultery. Still, she persisted in her faith and carried on her duties gracefully.

Wow! All I can say is that she was one amazingly strong woman!

So, do you remember your thoughts during labour? Have you seen a woman in labour? Please, share.