Strong contractions started to occur at a regular rate, which painfully lasts for about a minute. My lower back is killing me. I kept on rummaging for the rest of my brain cells as the 60-second contractions felt stronger every second. No bloody show yet. Phew.
The pressure in my lower back becomes more and more painful. I am starting to feel the urge to push, to yell, but the words that come out were far from distinguishable.
I could still hear the television voices amidst the pain; Badz must still be watching TV. He told me to rest and relax, and to unplug his helicopter toy when it’s fully charged. I am presently in a state of unbearable pain; and I just keep on doing QWERTY. The vagina unfolds into full-dilation phase as the room suddenly becomes quite. I am alone now, I thought. Badz might have turned the TV off and went asleep.
It’s the medications, I suppose, I kept on hearing voices. The doctor says cutting me open is a faster and painless option. I refused. I preferred to do it this way – feeling every inch of pain and fulfillment of vaginal birth. It is while doing this extreme distress and torture that I found the very essence of feminity and the World Wide Web. I may be a little late and it wasn’t my fault. I’ve told you, it’s the medications - I might have overdosed myself with Bisolvon.
The urge to push grew stronger. With a small opening, the doctor gave me an episiotomy. The head begins to show as I push really, really hard. Sweat trickled through my forehead, but with a smile on my face, I almost cried as I hear her low, broken whimper. And with a motherly caress, I hit the button ‘Publish Post’.
I just gave birth to my first blog.
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