11th entry - The Story of my Birth

11th Entry - The story of my birth

The words that follow were found scribbled on a yellow piece of paper, and copied into this transcript after proofreading. This is an account of how my mother gave birth to me twenty-nine years ago. I used the first-person narrative because my mother penned this account – I thought it would be criminal to plagiarize my mother. The fact was no one other than herself could have better understood how she felt at that time. Hence, if I were to try to write it as though I was this amazing woman, I would be doing you, her and myself a great disservice. You, because you would not be able to fully comprehend something as wonderful and as perfect as what my mother went through. My mother, because these precious thoughts belonged sorely to her: the only ones she would ever have, for she gave birth to one child only. Lastly, me, because it was my birthday: not the anniversaries that we celebrate every year, but the real thing…

-----------------------

On 29th August 1976, Sunday, at about half-past five in the morning, I felt a little pain, like period pain, in my abdomen while still lying in bed. Then came the water bag: it leaked quite a bit, little by little. I was feeling rather nervous, and I asked my husband to call my mum. It was 6am.

Fat Aunt [1]refused to make the telephone call. My husband called Ah Pheow [2](Katong) on the phone, but he was also not sure about it. He came back without knowing what to do, especially since his mum was not here yet. Both of us were really at a complete loss.

After eating, my sister gave us cake with a honey beverage and one bottle of Brands Essence of Chicken. I was on my way to Kendang Kerbau (KK) Women’s Hospital. I did not even wash my hair or bathe.

---------------------

Immediately, the nurse asked me to change for the delivery room. At 10.30am, I was sent to a ward: the four-bed to a room type. Later, an Indian lady doctor examined me and went off. At about 4 or 5pm, she came back, and this time she cut my vagina slowly, bit by bit. All this while my stomach had ached from time to time, but the pain lasted for only a few seconds. I heard the doctor say to a Malay mid-wife that my progress was very slow.

By 8 or 9pm, a male doctor came to check me. He then sent me to another delivery room, with air-conditioning and 2 beds. My stomach was aching painfully at intervals, and every pain lasted longer than the first. Then a nurse came to take my blood pressure and temperature, saying that the doctor would put me on drip. The needle went into my left hand’s main vein, and vitamins were induced with the water. I was dehydrated, as I did not have a single drop of water to drink since morning.

On and off, the pain came. I felt that I was being tortured in hell, and it lasted all the way to midnight. My baby was still not delivered! Oh, I wished that I could die and I hated my husband so much that I started scolding him, “Beard[3], I hate you! I hate you!…”

I kept calling the nurse and doctor for help. At about 2pm, a young Chinese doctor came to examine me and cut my vagina slowly up to the anus. I know that the pain I experienced was greater than any other suffering in this world.

-------------------------

During delivery, 2 nurses and a lady doctor were helping me. They asked me to push long and hard. Longer and harder I tried each time, but it seemed very difficult, especially when I was without food or drink for 20 hours. I really did not have any more strength. I wished to have an operation, but on second thoughts, I liked to be a real mother, having my baby naturally born into this world.

Then I heard the doctor said that if my baby’s head did not emerge after a few minutes, I might need forceps. I tried very, very hard. With heavy eyes, enduring the pain, I pushed with all my might. It was the longest push I ever had, until I was almost out of breath.

At last, I heard a cry from my baby. Oh! What a relief! All three of them who helped me deliver said I gave a very good try. I looked up at the clock with my sleepy eyes. It was 2.45am, 30th August 1976. The nurse held my baby’s most important part towards me – looking weakly at his little cock, I said, “Oh! Naughty boy, causing me all this trouble!” In my heart, I know he suffered a lot, trying to push his way through. I really felt overjoyed, with tears in my eyes…after all, I am a real mummy already!

-----------------------

Time of Suffering lasted from 5.30am on the 29th August when my water leaked, to 2.45am on the 30th August when the baby was born…it was nearly 21 hours of killing pain before my boy was in this world. It was really not easy to be a mother! I left the hospital on the 1st September 1976. My baby had jaundice so he had to stay in the hospital. Poor thing! My baby came home on the 9th September at 6.30pm.

My hospital fees: ward charges, $4 per day (3 days); accouchement, $60; baby’s bill, $40; washer women, $50. My mother-in-law promised to cook for me, but all turned sour. She was not happy when her son criticized her, and she cried, saying that she was being bad-mouthed by the people in Indonesia[4]. She claimed that her son, Ah Boo, was ill and if she came to help me she would appear to care more for her grandson than her own son. I did not believe her, because people told me that Ah Boo was getting better already. The truth was that her stepdaughter [5]Ah Mui was getting married soon and she was told by Ah Yee (her real mother) to attend her wedding. I was terribly disappointed.

---------------------------

My thoughts and feelings as the baby in the story

I must say, I cried when I realized what my mother had gone through to bring me to this world. It must have been difficult during her entire pregnancy term, and even harder in the “aftermath”, especially when the people she was counting on for help actually let her down. Realizing that I made my mother go through excruciating pain when delivering me, I felt as though I was a horrible person! Then again, can I be blamed for the joy that my parents experienced while they were “making me”? And how about giving me some credit for bringing great joy to my parents when I was born?

In any case, I think I must have been a blessed baby. Not all babies are born to happy parents; some do not even know who their parents are. Now I can only hope that I can reduce the “cognitive dissonance” that my parents may feel after bringing me up, by taking care of them until they grow old.

[1] I have no idea who this is.
[2] Ah Pheow was my father’s “legal brother”; my father was “adopted” by Ah Pheow’s father so that he could become a Singapore permanent resident. Actually, Ah Pheow was also an adopted son, but that’s another story.
[3] An affectionate name that my mother gave my father. Actually my father never kept a beard, but had a moustache instead.
[4] My father was born in Tanjong Pinang, which the main port town of Pulau Pinang, the largest island of the Riau Archipelago, in Indonesia. The “people in Indonesia” was referred to the relatives and friends of my grandmother, who was living there at the time.
[5] Grandfather (my father’s father) had two wives, and my own grandmother was my father’s real mother. Ah Yee was the second wife, and Ah Mui, one of the second wife’s daughters, was therefore my grandmother’s stepdaughter.