WHEN AISHA WAS BORN -3

Day4/Night5 PS: I will get up today. I will go to see my daughter today. I must. It’s enough even strangers know my baby and I don’t. These were my thoughts when I opened my eyes this day. I told everyone around because I needed morale. By now, I could take more sips of water and had started drinking warm fluids, tea only, to be precise with just the tiniest teaspoon of sugar (no fair, I complained). I felt strong enough to go see my girl, if only movement didn't hurt so much! Told my ex to help me up, get me cleaned and dressed. He was surprised. Thought I was 'throwing smoke'. But I was serious. I was tired of the sheets around me and that bloody catheter had to go too! I did it, I got out of bed, I stood up, and my legs didn't fail me. Thank YOU GOD! The nurses were ever so happy for me. But only after a step, I was calling for a wheel chair! Trust our nurses; they totally ignored me, LOL. Which I must say was good. But after managing to walk, with aide of course, half way to the pediatrics department, we were informed that no patients were allowed in because they were having examinations. Even though mothers and fathers were allowed in, I was still a patient; therefore it’s a no zone for me.

I came back and cried my heart out. After all the hard work and effort and pain in every step, I couldn't see my baby.

Later on that night I was called to go and see her but I couldn’t go through the pain of walking again. Do you know how you get frightened or alarmed when, after putting your mobile on silent vibrate for a long time and have forgotten that its in your pocket, then it suddenly vibrates? Yes? Well that was how each step felt like, a vibrating shock right from each foot to the incision site. No sir, I wasn't going through that again.

Tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow is another day I thought to myself as I drifted to sleep.

Day5/ Night6 PS: it's a lovely day. It's a good day to see my baby. It’s a good day to try again. Wednesday, 22^nd July, 2009 a very memorable day for me, the very first time of holding, of cuddling, of seeing, and physically loving my daughter. When I got there I needed no introduction, everyone knew I was the tiniest baby's mother (loved the attention) mostly because of the double cannula I had. One on each hand. Those things might be rubbery for flexibility but I assure you they are very discomforting.

On getting to the ward, I was lead to the intensive care unit (ICU), a doctor was blocking my view of what was inside one of the incubators, but I knew it was my girl(her nanny was standing nearby). As I got closer, the tiny thing inside was stretching all limbs fighting to be free of her doctor, she was obviously crying but her voice wasn’t audible, but I could feel her pain not because she was my baby, but because personally as an adult, I use the yellow colored cannula(using the color code so as not to seem as an expert) for less pain and comfort-ability (as far as it will allow) the pink is OK but the green is only absolutely used when necessary. And she was being pricked with the yellow cannula. OMG! Why is she hurting her? What have I done to this baby? Was all I could think of. My heart was racing, my legs were shaking, I was trembling all over, and my incision site hurt like never before. The doctor took one look at me and said, "Please get a seat for Baby Fatima's mother." Then she told me, "don’t worry I am only stopping the drip. It was on all night. And nothing is wrong with your baby, we are keeping her to monitor her weight" I could only smile. After I had calmed my nerves, the tiniest human baby I ever saw, wrapped in a light blue cotton shawl was handed to me.

She had only diaper on, and it was way too large for her. She was all skin on bones, had bulging eyes, tiny mouth, cute button nose, tiny, tiny, tiny fingers and toes (had to count them over and over to make sure they were five on each limb). She was a purple/violet color and she looked pretty baked to me, that's because she was receiving photo therapy(had slight jaundice).  The first name that came to my mind was "my sweet little chicken peri-peri." She did kind of look like a chicken, with her legs folded up towards her belly and her hands tucked under her chin……. The most beautiful sight I ever saw.

Then just as I carried her, the rest of the umbilical cord dropped onto my laps. I couldn’t hold it in any more, the tears came pouring out. I witnessed something good, something new.

God was probably letting me know that with the pains and sadness I went through while pregnant and after delivery, I will also witness great and eventful tidings with her.

I spent nine more days between the O and G ward and pediatrics ward. I was ready to go home after 14days in total of being in the hospital. I asked to be discharged and it was granted. My daughter, who was by then named AISHA, was not going to be released. Her doctors thought I wasn’t strong enough to take care of any one just yet, but I insisted and it was finally granted on the grounds that we return after a week and if she was still below 2kg (she was 1.70kg) she would be re-admitted.

Aisha is now 2 years 5 months and 2 weeks old. She weighs 13.5kg, and one of the liveliest toddlers in her daycare. Was not readmitted and has never had cause to even be admitted at all since we left the hospital. 

Indeed there are better days to come for me and my Aisha. Insha Allah.