Thursday, 08 October 2009

• The Minutes You Hold Your Breath

   
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  She was a force to be reckoned with.

  A short imposing stature, beyond wide birthing hips, pendulous breast, veiled in black. IMPSHEESH!- She forcfully pushed all the the young boys and marrying aged girls out of the room- I guess they are too innocent to know about the mysteries surrounding the vagina.

  I was about to check and see how far my sister was dilated when the local midwife came in and took charge- a huge relief on my part- because I was in a tizzy- for though I have witnessed quite a few births I have only assisted two, both which were in a hospital setting. Also this vagina was unlike any other I have seen in real life- It was circumsized.
  
  So the village midwife set her tools around her, scissors, gloves (these gloves looked like gloves I see subway sandwich workers wear the big clear kind) cooking oil, a vial of a drug I am guessing to be something like pitocin (not sure on the translation) a intramuscular needle, sturdy string, rags and a plastic tarp.
  
  I took my place among the other sisters, holding the birthing woman's hand and pulling back her legs. She was laying prone on the tile floor uttering curses while the other woman around her shouted at her during each contration things like " Why you crying?" "Hush, it's not that bad" "Enough, you have done it before you can do it again"
  
  The midwife was telling stories in between each contraction about the other births she had recently attened. Twins just last week. I was watching her technique- curious what she was going to do with the cooking oil.
  Not really paying attention to those around me I had a huge grin on my face- I always get excited and "high" at births, when I looked around I noticed everyone was crying. What?! What did I miss? I tuned back into what they were saying- the birthing mother had recently lost her mother and was wishing for her to be here to witness it. Talk about insensitivity on my part- I hope no one saw me.
  
  As the contractions became more forceful and quicker together the miwife would dip her fingers in the oil and give the mom a pernieal message (to prevent tearing) and also coat the vaginal wall (I guess to glide the baby out) Soon the crown of the head appeard, everyone started shouting, some of the woman started pressing at the fundus (top of the uterus) or violently shaking it. A few pushes later and a sweet little girl sliped into the world. She was covered in vernex and bright pink. The midwife held her by the feet and arms and wiggled her back an forth then wraped her up in cloth and laid her aside.
  
  I held my breath. The scariest noise to this day for me is actually the silence between when the baby is born and when it first cries. I wanted to rub it's back vigorusly, to check it's apgars, just something to here that little cry!

  But the mid wife was as cool as a cucumber, she went and delivered the placenta. Still twenty minutes later not a peep from the wee babe. The mother looks exhausted, the father is not even in the home, and like any egyptian event soon the food is brought and she is forced to cooloo collum (eat everything) they force it down her throat.
  
  Sheesh and people here wonder why I don't want to have a baby here?

  Finally the midwife gets back to the baby, she pinches it's nose which causes it to cry, which allows me to inhale a deep breath. With a thread tightly tied around the umbilical chord she cuts the other end. I guess the baby would be alright, for unlike most american births, they didn't clamp the chord till much later which I suppose allowed the child to still have a rich supply of oxygen.
  
  Anyway, it's moments like these that make me fall in love with Egypt all over again.

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