Laowai

The day she came was a strange day. For most of the time, we both were just hoping it was for real. For Kathy, it was the intense shame of walking out of the hospital empty handed, as though every security guard in the complex was shaking their head at the crazy lady who had been there twice before and those damn volunteers tsk-ing away at the young kids who hadn’t a clue about what labor was. That and the anxiety of the unknown – Kathy was all keyed up to do it and then had to go home and watch her once-per-three minutes contractions ebb back to nothing. For me, different thoughts, more centered around the schedule I was pretending I wasn’t keeping. “Whenever she comes, she comes (…but now sure would be nice because I’ve got a bit of a break in the project work and my team can cover for me in the meeting later in the week)”. “Don’t be anxious, I’m here whenever you need me (but do please let’s get it moving so I can start this new project in California after next week).” “I’ve got all the time in the world (…but don’t forget that I have to go back to Singapore at the end of the month).”

We’d been through the drill twice already so we weren’t going to get too excited. Kathy was actually having painful contractions at home the morning before we even went in but expecting bloody murder, she opted to wait for something to tear her apart. When we actually got there and things started rolling, it was hard to believe it was coming. A steady march of various health care professionals and we hardly had a chance to think about things before they were breaking down the bed and our doctor was suiting up in her catcher’s outfit and I’m busy trying to find somewhere less intrusive for my eyes to rest. Every time they ask you to rate your pain – did you know that Kathy never got above a 5 on a 10 point scale? And suddenly, here she is. I spent most of my time watching the faces of the doctors and nurses because how the heck was I supposed to know if this was normal. Lots of blood – is that normal? The head looks really soft – is that normal? The baby is pretty damn blue – is that normal? The doctor doesn’t seem to mind. Must be fine. My baby’s head is out, she’s blue, silent and her eyes are closed – should I panic? Well, Dr. Gyne seems fine so I guess I shouldn’t worry either. I do remember one thing that chilled me a bit – Dr. G makes a quick maneuver around little Bea’s head and I realize at that point that she has just unwrapped the umbilical cord from around her neck. Gulp… We owe you one, Doc…

It went fast for both of us. We didn’t have time to watch the calming Jimmy Stewart movie from Netflix we had selected for the occasion. I remember it was almost anti-climactic except that the nurses instructed me to start taking pictures of my baby with my camera. I guess it gave me something to do instead of stare blankly at the little beast who had disturbed my life so much in the last few months (and that, I know, is just beginning). I am glad though, to have some of my favorite pictures emerge from that haze.

My favorite picture was when I realized that Kathy knew what she was doing and got exactly what she wanted. Me, I was (and perhaps still am) not so sure what to make of this thing that had interrupted my otherwise happy life but Kathy knew. I took a bunch of these pictures while they sized each other up and got ready for the road ahead. The ironic thing is that while this love fest was taking place in the camera’s eye, I was careful not to catch any of the commotion below while Dr. G stitched like a grandmother knitting a blanket and narrated to the clueless intern Nihla all the while.