I Gave Birth Alone, And It Made Me A Stronger Woman
Not having the father of my child support me during labour, was something that I had already come to terms with.
Yes, I wasn’t happy about it, and yes I wanted him to hold my hand, be my advocate, rub my back and low-key be my cheerleader. I mean, I made life with this man, and deep in my heart, I wanted the both of us, to share the most cherish-able day to remember together. To be precise, as a team.
I was having to do this alone, but staying positive all the way.
Apart from attending antenatal classes, I would feast my eyes on One Born Every Minute, and every single one of those women had a different story to tell. Some were having to walk this journey solo, because the father of the child had chosen not to get involved. Some were not on talking terms. And some were lucky enough to have their partners by their side.
Before going into labour, I had sent a message to the father of my child, to let him know that I was having contractions. I was clueless as to what to expect, and before I knew it, my water had broken. It was happening!
Whoever said contractions feel like menstrual pains—yes they do, but the stronger version.
My womb was tightening, but at the same time relaxing. I could feel some kind of radiating heat; thunder was rolling through my body,
Thankfully, I had packed my hospital bag three months before my due date. My family were all excited; you would have thought they were the ones giving birth.
Minutes later, my sister in law is quick to book me an Uber. I sit in the car and the driver is now speeding. My hormones are up and down, my screams are hitting Soprano levels, and my breathing is heavy. I slap the passengers seat, I bite the seatbelt, I am in tears; and this time, the pains feel like a fireball, trying to escape from my back.
Birth is a life-changing experience; not just for the mother, but for everyone involved.
None of us know how we’ll react, until we’re in that particular situation. What you have to remember is that physically and emotionally, it might be a walk in the park; and for others, it might not be.
But that doesn’t make you weak. It shows that as women, we all have different techniques and ways of handling new experiences.
At 12.30am, I am now at Barnet Hospital, and I have fully dilated.
“Come on Jumoke, that’s a contraction, puuuuush! You can do this! Push!”
That was the voice of my midwife, Layla.
“I cant do it anymore, I want to have a caesarean, let me have a caesarean!” I cried, with my hands tightly clutched onto the bedsheets.
“No Jumoke, no caesarean, keep pushing you are almost there! Come on!”
“No, let me have it! I’m tired please!” I painfully said, nd at that moment, I had almost fallen off the bed; but like a pro, Layla caught me.
From what I heard, I was the talk of the labour ward; and with my high-pitched screams, I could have made it to “hot topics” on the Wendy Williams Show.
“I see your baby’s hair Jumoke! I see hair! Come on, push!” My midwife continued to say.
I couldn’t do it anymore. I was weak. My vision blurred, my ears were popping, my throat was completely dry, and my hands were sweaty. I felt light-headed and faint, and my nose was completely swollen from all the pushing. I thought I was going to die; but I wasn’t giving up and gave it one final push.
“It’s a girl! It’s girl! You did it Jumoke! Well done! Look at her sparkly eyes! She’s gorgeous” one of the midwives happily shouted.
But, I on the other-hand, was still pushing; not knowing that my daughter had already come out.
“You did it Jumoke! Well done girl!”
All the nurses cheered the moment we all heard my baby cry, and celebrated every moment. I could also hear loud cheers coming from the hallway, and when I heard that, I knew it was my family.
I turn around confusingly, cried, and cried, and there she was. The tiny human that had given me hope, happiness and a purpose. I was now a mother. I couldn’t believe I had done it, through sweat, tears and blood, I did it; and any mother who can do that, deserves a medal. That right there is an achievement.
I gave birth alone to my beautiful baby girl, Ariel. The most happiest and memorable day of my life. She was perfect. Innocent. Calm. In other words, my life felt so complete, and it still does every single day.
She latched on straight away and I spent the entire morning just staring at her. My pride and joy. I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. This experience has made me a better and stronger woman.