Rus Articles Journal

Everything will be good

U me 38 weeks of pregnancy desired and pleasant in every respect. I sit one in the empty apartment and I stare at the bag collected in maternity hospital. In the head only one thought: rather everything would end. Caesarian not to avoid, but I knew about it initially. Problems with a retina are so serious that doctors presented me with a choice: Caesarian or nippers in the second period of childbirth. I presented how the gentle little body of my kid is pulled some pieces of iron... Is not present, let better I will be cut.

Here husband. Something suspiciously blednenky. Now it will bring me to maternity hospital, and we will return already three together. Everything will be OK. I trust in it. We wait for you, synulya!

Half an hour of driving, and we in maternity hospital. An accident ward, compulsory procedures, around pregnant women with fights... I begin easy nervous trembling. I look at the neigbour in turn: years 45 by sight, from some remote village, without prenatal record, the third Caesarian. Nervous trembling comes to an end. I am young, healthy (almost), pregnancy the first, first labor, documents all available. Everything will be OK. I want to calm the neigbour, but she is quiet as the tank. And still asks whether not to make by it sterilization. Of course, to make and immediately! The third Caesarian - at such age - to go crazy! Where doctors look?

At last, us, planned Caesarian, is made out in office of pathology of pregnancy. Around a puzatika with sad eyes: who too on Caesarian, who perekhazhivat, at someone aging of a placenta. And for some reason there are a lot of women - ghosts: pale, bent, with catheters on wrists. These are recently prokesarenny. They cannot visit prenatal office, but all of them equally come to acquaintances. Nervous trembling is started over again. I will become soon same as they. I will begin anemia from loss of blood during operation, the seam and soul will be terribly support the kid whom I will be given not at once. However, I will think of it tomorrow, I speak to myself as Scarlett O`Hara from “Gone with the Wind“. Everything will be OK.

the Kid behaves quietly, is almost not pushed, is not going to leave. To it it is good and cozy in a uterus. And suddenly, when doctors will begin operation, he will sleep with pleasure? He will be woken, will pull out others hands on bright light, and I will not even be able to press it to myself. What stress expects it, and here still I with the disorders. It is necessary to calm down immediately. Blood call to hand over. Veins at me already any though before pregnancy did not complain of them. Thank God, handed over. Everything is fine. The doctor appointed operation on the day after tomorrow. I look forward to this day. The pot-belly does not allow to sleep normally on the pressed-through bed. And then the companion from a tummy especially will not allow to sleep. But it will be absolutely other song, isn`t that so?

So, I do not eat, I do not drink, I do not sleep. Tomorrow I will see the kid...

Bright light of the operating room, cold table. The body begins to shiver foully. It is necessary to be afraid. Already nothing depends on me. The sports press, elastic muscles, good coagulability of blood - all this does not matter now. It is operation where everything depends on skill of doctors. The anesthesiologist enters to me into a spinal cord medicine, and the lower body ceases to feel something. I hear everything, but I see nothing. In - the first, without points I in general little see, in - the second, before eyes a screen. After a while I hear some grunting. “Mummy, look, you have a boy“, is to me? I am a mummy now? The doctor brings to me the child. Without points I see only outlines of a being, but I know that my son - the most beautiful in the world. But why it is gray? “In what it it?“ - I ask doctors. It appears, it is patrimonial greasing. He when carried away on processing cried, and at me went away from heart. Shout is loud, dissatisfied.“ Only hatched, and already with character“, - I thought and it was disconnected. Everything will be OK.

my happiness weighing 3660 kg, 52 cm in height snuffles in a ridiculous roddomovsky cradle on castors. We together three days, and for these days I slept at most hours six. I change clothes, I feed, I rock to sleep. I change clothes, I feed, I rock to sleep. The seam hurts so that it is impossible to laugh and cough. However, me not to laughter. Postnatal depression in full. Tears from eyes are shed as water from the open crane. The breast of a rassosan till it bleeds, is not enough milk. But mix I do not finish feeding, I keep. The child shouts day and night - whether for hunger, whether from a stress. I swaddle - it raspelenyvatsya, I rock to sleep - it is not rocked to sleep. Classical picture: the shouting firstborn and mother - the clumsy. I envy the neigbour with three Caesarian (to her all - made sterilization). Swaddles in a moment, to the kid washes buttocks in a second, rocks to sleep skillfully. On a breast - any cracks. Nothing, I console myself, experience - business acquirable. Everything will be OK.

By the end of the stay in maternity hospital I remind

risen from hell. Under eyes black circles, a pale face, the dirty tousled hair (there is no time to wash and comb hair). And here, at last, extract. Waited-. And the seam it seems already almost does not hurt, and the child who is qualitatively swaddled. Life is adjusted. Decided to finish feeding the son before departure mix, maybe, will fall asleep. About a miracle, fell asleep - yes as! It was dressed on an extract, photographed, filmed with the camera, enthusiastic relatives - it handed over and did not move an eye. It is visible, indeed in maternity hospital for hunger shouted. Well nothing, the sonny, we will deal with this lactation, you will have a food to satiety. For now sleep, the kid. Around there are so much loving persons, and even a tear - pleasure and happiness. We so waited for you, very much - very much we love and we will always love. Everything will be OK.