Women surgery, whether they're pregnant or not, are so interesting. Usually my role at best is retracting irrelevant tissues, wiping up blood, cutting strings (not the knots) and the occasional suction. But this time I felt I had to be on my toes the whole time. I got to manually contract the uterus, wipe down the baby's face, squeeze out the clots from the vagina and tie a couple 2-handed surgical knots. Also managed a couple anatomy questions like "What's the blood supply of the round ligament?" to which I nonchalantly replied "Sampson's artery" (doesnt happen very often). Overall I think I really impressed an audience so I was happy :). But that pride quickly dissipated when I cut one of the strings shorter than the other which irritated the consultant who proceeded to give me a quick tutorial on how to handle the scissors -.- *embarrassing*
In contrast to the painless, effortless childbirth from the Caesar mothers, traditional vaginal childbirth welcomes you to an excruciating experience for the mum and viewers. To me, it was like an 11 hour thriller movie. And no it's not a mistake, it was 11 freaking hours. Poor mum :( I really tried my best to help, partly because I didn't like seeing the mother in so much pain. She was on hands and knees in the water, and between breaths asking for more gas to ease the pain.
Eventually she moved to the bed because she had stronger contractions. The next three hours I became the stirrups when the woman was contracting, then hurriedly giving her sips of water and a cold flannel when she's not. Huge props to the mom. Her face all flustered, her brows furrowed, teeth clenched, throat dry from all the screaming. "Come out, little pea..." was all she could manage between pants. She was clearly tired yet soldiered on until the baby's head started to crown at the tenth hour. The doctors came in and discussed about Ventouse delivery (basically sucking out the baby with a vacuum) and what harm it could do to her.
"As long as the baby's fine..." She replied without second thought. The vacuum delivery took about 10 minutes. At each pull, she let out a blood-curdling scream and unintentionally dug her nails into my skin. The baby, after a couple tries, was finally born. As a 23-year old man packed with testosterone, I tried my best not to cry. But what a moment to see the husband and wife sobbing, kissing and hugging each other like a postlude to an intense drama.
Returning home at close to midnight, I could not help to think how wonderful mothers can be. How even before birth, they've already chosen to shower us with unconditional love. And without second thought be willing to sacrifice their own life points for their child's wellbeing. A few days later I called up my mom and asked about how I was born. Apparently in the rural health centre where she delivered, she had an episiotomy (cutting a slit in the vagina to make the birth canal bigger) and a long labour because the nurse prematurely ruptured the membranes. Another thing I am thankful for I guess.
Today I've officially passed the Women's and Children's health module. Got distinction in OSCEs, but didn't manage to do well enough for MCQs. My tutors even wrote "Good proactive conscientious student, very good feedback from one of the parents in the exam. MCQs surprising" oh well, win some and lose some. I learnt most in this run, distinction or no distinction, and an important life lesson: love is painful.
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