Awhile back a MGTOW was discussing how his mom had made his dad a walking wallet and I wondered if he knows who is a mother. If today you are in an accident or go to jail, guess who will always be by your side? Not fellow mgtow or even your dad. It’s your mom bcz she’s the only one who understands the value of your sorry behind that’s now has a big mouth to talk shit about someone who has made you who you are. Ungrateful brats in mgtow respect women and more so moms. Your mom isn’t your girlfriend umchambue na maboys hapa, shameless fools.
Happy Saturday night mum’s
I walked into the labour ward at exactly 2.30pm on the 29th of October 2015, so full of energy and ready to push. After all, I thought that all I had to do once the pains kicked in was to push. The nurse on duty requested to check if I had dilated which I obliged in fear after reading many horrible experiences about the action. I quickly lay on the bed and let her examine me and voila, I never felt a thing! So why do many expectant women dread the action? I thought to myself. Maybe they are just spoilt brats who fear any little pain. The nurse mentioned that I had barely dilated a centimeter but insisted that I must be admitted for further assessment. My sister Janet and my best friend Faith booked me into the hospital and left promising to come back the following day. I swear on my mother’s grave I wasn’t feeling any pain yet the nurse insisted that I had already shown the first signs of labour, so I just connected my phone to the free Wi-Fi at the hospital, sat back as if in a beach in South Coast and begun browsing the internet.
Wait a minute, I almost forgot to mention that I was in a big ward partitioned with curtains, so all I needed to do was move the curtain slightly in order to see whoever was in the next bed. As boredom kicked in, I could not help but move the curtain to peep and look at my neighbor whose heavy breathing had attracted my attention. “Sasa? Unaitwa nani?” I whispered. She looked at me in shock and said “I am not Kenyan and I don’t understand Swahili, talk to me in English”. I quickly switched to her preferred language of choice and we became friends. She told me she was Muslim and that her husband lived in the States. Then she turned towards me and asked “And you? Where is your husband?” “He also lives in the United States” I whispered as I avoided eye contact. How long had she been in Kenya anyway? Here, we do not ask such sensitive questions! Anyway, we shared lots of pregnancy experiences until she could talk no more because of the pain she had started experiencing. I drew back the curtain and continued browsing.
A few minutes later, I heard her shout at the top of her voice “Mungu wa Isiraeli nisaidieeee”. So this pain can actually make someone switch her religion! It was barely half an hour since she told me she was Muslim and did not understand Swahili! Now she was yelling “Mungu wa Israeli nisaidie”. I swear this pain can make you speak a language you’ve never heard! She yeeled in Swahili so fluently, at some point I thought she was one of the Wahengas who come up with Swahili sayings. I thought that she was about to deliver only for the doctor to examine her and say she still had a few more hours to go. I spent the next three hours laughing at the lady as she sung our National Anthem in Swahili without missing a word. I convinced myself that I was going to brave the pain and avoid such embarrassments.
Fast forward to 11pm, I was chatting with my Chama members, the beautiful GEMS telling them how strong I was since I had not started screaming and yet I could feel the cramps intensifying by the minute. I do not know how it happened but all I remember was letting out a very loud scream after feeling a very sharp pain on my back. I felt so embarrassed I wished I could grab the sound and put it back into my mouth! That marked the beginning of my painful labour. From then on, there was nothing like embarrassment. My neighbour had already received her bundle of joy and had been transferred to another ward. We were about 10 women in the ward and I was the only one in labor. Anytime I felt the sharp pain I would stand and start clapping with my eyes shut and my lips tight together to avoid making any noise.
That trick did not work for long, the pain increased by the minute and before I knew it, I was walking up and down naked as I called my mother from the dead to come and rescue me. The nurses and doctors just stared at me, maybe they had seen worse. I swear I had initially thought that immediately you start screaming the nurses would rush you to the delivery room and you push. How wrong I was! The doctor came and told me that I had to dilate at least 10cm in order to deliver. I quickly asked him to check how many cm I was, having in mind it wasn’t painful when it was first done. I will live to regret ever asking for the check! Woooooi! If no one has invented a machine to do that check up then someone is sleeping on the job! The pain I felt when he tried fixing his fingers in me automatically earned him a slap. That was the last time I saw him next to my bed. That painful procedure was repeated at least seven times by another doctor and nurse before I finally delivered and each time, they came in two by two. One to hold my hands tight as the other checked.
All through the night I kept shouting “Doctooor, kuja utoe huyu mtoto hapa ndani” “Sisteeeer, ninakufa tu mukiangalia”. All this time, they ignored me because I was hours away from delivery. They kept telling me to stop screaming and save the energy for delivery but I did not listen. All I wanted to do was scream. Then I remembered my neighbour calling upon Mungu was Isiraeli before she was whisked to the delivery room. If she’s a Muslim and shouted ‘Mungu wa Israeli’ to reduce the pain, then maybe all I needed was to shout Alahu Akbar to equally easy my pain, I thought to myself. I began shouting Alaaaaaahu Aaakbar hoping it would work for me like it did for her. You should have seen how firm I sat on that bed shouting Alaaaaahu Aakbar every five minutes. The pain did not stop, instead it became intense! I stood next to my locker and started hitting it like a drum as I sung patriotic songs for my country Kenya shouting my mother’s name in between. Anytime a nurse walked in I quickly secured myself under the bed and threatened to push if they insisted on checking if I had dilated.
This was repeated all through the night till morning came. My sister Janet and Faith arrived at 6am hoping to find me with a baby only to find me shouting at the top of my voice under the bed naked. The nurse had just confirmed that I had dilated 7cm since 2am and was not making any progress because I had refused to walk. They tried convincing me to walk in vain. The pain was so intense that I found myself jumping on my bed and immediately started pushing. Janet and Faith tried warning me but nothing could stop me. I was going to push come what may! If the baby inside me was causing so much pain then it was better off outside me. Janet rushed and called the nurse who came and started telling me “Wacha kuskuma na hauko tayari, unaumiza mtoto” I looked at her and yelled “Wacha aaumie pia mimi ananiumiza” I was pushing with all my might.
The nurse rushed and came back with the doctor who gave me one look and immediately brought a drip to induce the labour. All I was shouting at that time was “Daktari fanya CS! Daktari fanya CS” He just looked at me and said “Si ulinislap, sifanyi!” I then stated asking for a knife so that I perform the caesarian on my own “Basi nipatie kisu nijifanyie CS”. I do not know what he put into the drip but in less than three minutes, I started jerking and was rushed to the delivery room where I was told to push. Finally….I thought! I pushed and my baby’s head came out, then I stopped at that. All the energy I had was lost! “Puuuush unaumiza mtoto” the doctor shouted. I just looked at him and mumbled “CS”. Two other doctors who were in the room held my tummy on both sides and pushed as I looked at them almost passing out! Then I heard a cry, my daughter was here! I was so happy that I regained strength. The doctor again held my tummy and started pushing making me yell “Weee sikuwa na twins, unatoa nini?” “Placenta” he yelled back! “Mbona unatoa placenta? Hutaki nizae tena?” At that time, I thought I was talking about my womb! He just laughed off and continued as the other doctor cleaned my baby.
The pain I experienced during labour is something I would never wish on anyone, not even an enemy! Thumbs up to all mothers out there.