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WHY SERBS DESERVE TO DIE OUT FROM THE WHITE PLAGUE* - Part III
Featuring Mama-Kangaroo in the episode:
For the "opening night" of the ultra-sound, our son chose the horizontal position, with both of his hands behind his head. Mother's Little Montenegrin**, even back then he already knew how to live the life! He stayed true to that first nickname we gave him up until the very end: he had no intention of speeding things up, but started knocking on the doors to this world only half an hour after his parents were celebrating the arrival of the "Due Date". Being late with style, of course. "Ohmygod, my son, please, not now! My doctor's shift does not start before 7am!" Mama-Kangaroo was pleading him in panic. Walk - breathe - look at the watch - walk - breathe - look at the watch... At 7am Papa-Kangaroo and me board the Yugo*** and hop and bounce our way to the hospital. At the hospital we part with great drama, as if we were never to see each other again. Better safe than sorry. One never knows. Mother's Little Montenegrin, however, does not hurry. He has decided to come to this world biding his time and as a gentleman. He opens the doors a little bit, and then decide to rest some more. And so he continues from half past midnight until 2pm, where the door is opened wide enough so that Mama-Kangaroo can receive an epidural. Oh, blessed be the one who invented it! Now Mama-Kangaroo can put her hands under her head for a while, too. I slept for an hour on the child-birth table. Honest! Snored, even! What woke me up was the strange sound of the fetal monitoring device, whose needle started skyrocketing. And then my anesthesiologist showed up (the one from the episode 2, the one that is not "just anyone"). "What is happening?" I ask him. "Nothing unusual, don't worry. You are almost ready." "How's that possible? Was I given an induction?" "Yes." "Why?" "Well, the whole thing was going too slow. To speed it up." To speed it up? Why? I am trying to fathom their logic, but fail. I am in no hurry. I am in no pain, I am on epidural and I am totally ok. Why do we need to hurry? Why didn't anybody ask me whether I wanted an induction or not? Actually, when I think about it, it is not only that nobody asked me, but that nobody even bothered to inform me that it was administered to me... And then, as a lightning from the clear sky, I get a flesh of insight, the divine and inspired revelation... THEY are in a hurry! My doctor has been in hospital since 7am. It is 5pm now. Her shift has been over hours ago. She wants to go home. And maybe she even has patients scheduled for the afternoon in the private practice where she also works. And then she shows up. "You are ready, it is time to push. You are well-read, I am sure you know how to do it. Am I right?" I nod my head in agreement, deciding to ignore the ironic sting in her comment. I have much more important business to do now. "Come on, then." Mama-Kangaroo is pushing, and pushing hard, but with no result. Mother's Little Montenegrin does not want to even try entering the birth canal. Half an hour later, I notice a very unusual thing, something totally estranged to every story I have ever heard about the child-birth hospitals from the women that were there before me: White Coats**** are starting to gather around me. First two of them... then four... then six... then ten... I now realize that the situation is serious. What is a dozen of them doing besieging me? That is not the natural state of affairs! A minute later, I realize why they are there. One took one of my legs, the other one the other, third and fourth jumped on my belly and started pushing and kneading it as hard as possible... while the others form a choir and sing: PUSH!! Mother's Little Montenegrin, however, does not give a damn about it all. He does not even take a peek out the birth canal. At that moment, we hear a big BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG!!! Those holding me are jumping a meter away from the table, and I'm levitating a meter up from it. What the hell is this? Who is bombing us now?***** White Coats forget about me for a second, they turn around looking, until one of them solved the mystery: "Oh, the air-conditioning just fell off the wall." Oh, good that is all it is. For a moment I'm thinking that Mother's Little Montenegrin is conducting a brass band to announce his entrance into this world. I would hate for him to be vain. And what is more important: it's very lucky that the table I am lying on is not parked under any wall-mounted air-conditioning... At that moment, the needle on fetal monitoring device goes even more erratic. The White Coats surrounding me are glancing at each other and talking between themselves in some silent language, while I am thinking to myself: "It is over, my son. We are doomed." "Let's do a C-section", I hear my doctor proclaiming. What a woman! Wasn't I telling her right from the start that we should do a C-section to begin with, but she would not listen to me. Not only am I an old first-time mother (36 years), but I was also very thin (44,5 kg before the pregnancy) and the baby is above average weight (3.800 g), and my doctor that followed my pregnancy has told me, that the baby did not place his head the way he should (but my "hospital-connection-doctor" refused to take the expert opinion of my own doctor into account). And besides that: My Mars in my current Solar return chart is on the cusp of the 5th house and bang on my natal Ascendant... How much medicine and astrology does one need to know to realize, that under those conditions, C-section is inevitable? If she had listened to Mama-Kangaroo from the start, none of this would have happened! They take me off the epidural and give me some papers to sign. "What is this?" "Consent for operation." "So, you will give me a total anesthesia?" "Yes, we will." I sign it without thinking. Would you give me that total anesthesia already, I AM DYING FROM PAIN!!!! Why didn't you drive me to the OR first, and then take me off the epidural???? Do you, maybe, have a secret pact with God that every woman NEVERTHELESS has to suffer from child-birth pains, even if she bribes the anesthesiologist who is not "just anybody"? I breathe heavily in order to prevent sobbing and screaming, while tears are rolling down my face like Niagara Falls. The anesthesiologist (that is not "just anyone") puts a mask on my face and sort of counts something. And I am silently praying to God. "Our
Father,
Footnotes: * "White Plague" is a popular phrase used to refer to low birthrates.** Local jokes featuring Montenegrins give them a reputation of being lazy. *** Local car brand. **** "White Coats" is a local nickname for doctors and medical stuff. ***** Belgrade was bombed by NATO five years earlier, in 1999.
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STORIES FROM MATERNITY WARDS Mama-Kangaroo 002
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