Self Story #3 –

Self story #3 – Gender

I have never performed my role as a female quite like I did on May 6, 2012.  I had a job to do that no one else could do for me.  No one in the world could take my place.  I knew it would be hard, and I anticipated the pain with angst.  But amidst my underlying fear, I felt brave and determined.  I was more than ready to meet my baby, and knowing that he was also ready made me impatient with excitement.  Seeing his heart rate on the monitor made it all too real, knowing that his little heart had formed inside me and grew stronger and stronger every day.  Feeling him move and kick created a bond and love between us that could never be duplicated.  I was overwhelmed with thankfulness that I was able to experience this amazing moment in time.

Even though this was a place of new and happy beginnings, and not of sickness as is the case in virtually every other room in a hospital, it still felt like any other hospital room.  The sterile smell contributed to this, as did the way it looked.  It had white walls, out of date window blinds and paint chipping around virtually every corner.  Generous donors had contributed to the art work on the walls, showing their gratitude to the hard working staff.  Although it was only morning, the off-white tile floors had probably been mopped multiple times already that day, erasing the evidence from the previous deliveries.  Machines beeped quietly in the darkened room and my blood pressure cuff came to life every few minutes, making it difficult to ignore.

It was time.  I was ready and I listened intently to everything my nurse told me.  I was focused and tried to see past the pain.  I didn’t notice all that was going on around me because my focus was only on the treasured life inside me.  I did not notice that one by one, more and more people entered the room.  I didn’t think about what was going wrong; I only thought about what I needed to do.  Soon our space began to fill up.  The nursery staff arrived, interns, then the NICU nurses.  Next it was the on-call Obstetrician who came in, and she took over.  My family doctor gladly stepped aside and let her take control of the situation.  The heartrate of my precious child, who was a part of me in every way possible, was dropping.  Something had to be done and things needed to change quickly.  However, I still had a job to do and I didn’t think about the danger surrounding the situation.  I didn’t panic.  My new doctor looked me in the eye and said “one last time”.  I knew I had to finish this now or they would be forced to take over.  It was all the motivation I needed and I did it.  At last I held my baby in my arms and felt an indescribable joy that I could never replicate in any other way.  My nine months of waiting was over.  I held my cherished gift in the quietness of that moment and I will never be the same woman again.