What you give is what you get

Well, after heartbreakingly saying goodbye to my natural, gentle waterbirth dream, I’ve come hard up against the cold reality that is giving birth in a Third World hospital.
Today I had to go and get registered at the Queen Elizabeth Hospital (opened in 1964, and looks it, from the tired halls and the dilapidated building) so I could get a number.
It was the second time going to attempt this. The first time, last week Thursday, the woman behind the desk refused to accept my Barbados ID Card as sufficient evidence of my permanent residence status in Barbados. So I had to swallow my pride, and beg my mother to take me today.
Chile, when I got there they were now calling No. 86, and the number I pulled was No. 104. Did I fail to mention these numbers were written on pieces of cardboard box cut up squares? Lovely…. excellent system.
Two hours later, when I was called to get said number… everything was written out by hand, not a computer in sight, but blessedly it took a mere five minutes to do.
I am in fear of the public ward. I mean I don’t fear labour, don’t fear delivery, but being on the public ward scares the shit out of me.
The private doctor I went to see when I first came from London, told me when I got into labour to call him, and he’ll call the the Head Nurse and ask her to take special care of me. We’ll see if that works, because the nurses on the public ward are scary and mean. I am not looking forward to the experience.
I wish there was another way, but there simply isn’t. Since the father of this child is still a punk and showing not even the slightest shred of decency enough to step forward and try to make this easier for me and to usher his son into the world in a warm secure environment, and my mother is not helping out financially at all (after promising to help), and my freelance gigs just won’t cover it… it’s the Third World hospital experience for me.
My first antenatal appointment is on Thursday morning at 8am. I need to have at least two so I don’t have to pay for the delivery. Thankfully, I to that point in my pregnancy, where after this appointment I have to go every week until I deliver. So I basically need to hold out for at least another week. The baby can come anytime after that.
God… you know, you don’t plan your life this way… but it sure does hurt you someplace inside when things do turn out this way. Maybe I’ll be lucky and the money will fall out of the sky, but somehow I don’t think it will happen at this late stage.
:deepsigh:
Baby is great… he’s a squirming, wriggling (as I type) little fat fella. I’m so big and heavy now, that even standing around for any length of time gives me this enormous pressure on my entire pelvic region. It’s a weird feeling. Uncomfortable really…
Today was also the last day I try to go into town by myself. I simply cannot manage it. Between the heat, and the walking I get what the old people call, “bad feels” and it’s all I can do not to pass out from dizziness. I simply cannot make again.
At any rate, I’m winding down… at almost 36 weeks and heavy pregnant, I just need to make up my mind to keep my ass quiet and wait out the next few weeks.
Gosh… I really do want it to hurry up… but I’m kind of scared. I know I keep saying that, but night before last, reading the Labour and Delivery chapter of “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” reduced me to tears. I just couldn’t believe I was going to have to go on the scary public ward, and not have anyone there to hold my hand.
Yesterday, I called up my UT, and begged him if he would come with me. To be honest, I am a little weirded out, because he’s helped to raise me and he’s been my best friend’s baby daddy, and my mother’s best friend’s ex-husband… you know, I have a certain amount of trepidation about him seeing me naked and spread out, screaming or yelling or whatever… but it has to be better than going alone.
I’m counting bibs and burp cloths (still don’t think I have enough)… I’m packing and re-packing, organising and re-organising. To those of you who mentioned it, I DO have a bumper for the crib, I just haven’t set it up yet. It actually matches the crib colour and everything. I still need a few crib sheets, and a pillow (but he won’t need one right away) and a few odds and ends, but you know… everything is on track.
I am pretty much ready in terms of stuff… but absolutely not ready for what’s going to happen next in my life.

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