Lerato had been due to see her gynaecologist on the 9th May at 9:30am, a Friday. It was to be her final doctor's visit before delivery since she was already 40 weeks pregnant and her due date was the 10th May, although it was clear that she wouldn't deliver on that day since she had not a hint of labour pains. I had just started a new job in Cape Town so I was unable to accompany her to the visit as I'd done previously, but her sister Mapula was kind enough to go along.
Morning of the 9th when I get to the office, I call Lerato just to check how she's doing. She was hoping the doctor would call for a C-section as she was understandably tired, but we knew that was unlikely. I wished her well for the visit and carried on with my day, she was gonna fill me in when she left his office. "Ok, I love you, chat later babe"
Around 10:00 I get a call from her, and her voice is shaky and panicky. The doctor found her blood pressure to be extremely high, hypertension levels high, and she would thus have to be induced. He immediately wrote a letter for her to take to the maternity ward at the hospital, instructing the nurses to immediately admit her and induce labour. This was a worst-case scenario for us, as we knew that induced labour can be more painful than normal labour, and may be dangerous for the child. Fortunately she had always planned a delivery with epidural; the medical aid knew that and the hospital knew that too (thank goodness for medical aid). With hands and voice shaking I told my managers, then went about booking the next flight to Johannesburg. I booked myself on the 16:00 but didn't leave immediately as my thoughts would kill me at home. I kept working till after lunch then I left.
I said a prayer of thanks and requested protection for myself and my two loved ones. It was easily the longest flight I've ever been on. They had already started inducing her around midday. She was far from labour but she was hooked up on all those machines. The thought of her going through that without me killed me. Also, my mother who is a nurse had expressed deep reservations about epidural deliveries. She's a qualified midwife so she'd know. I landed at 6pm and waited for Mapula to come pick me up. Eventually after being stuck in traffic she arrived after 7pm. I was very happy to see Lulu, she still looked fresh. Yes, it'd only been just under 2 weeks but part of me expected some knocks. Oh, Lulu is my car by the way. Yes, my car is female and she has a name. I drove fast, but we still arrived at the hospital around 8pm.
Lerato was hooked up to 2 machines, one to monitor the baby and one to monitor her. She also had a drip on her arm; there may have been 2 drips, I don't remember. Her mom and aunt had stayed with her while Mapula fetched me. I was very happy to see her, and so was she; I could sense her nerves and she could sense mine. She had heard another mother screaming her lungs out while delivering which heightened her nerves. She was still not dilated yet, and thus had no labour pains. Her feet were extremely swollen, I could see why the doctor acted quickly. Her BP had gone down somewhat but was still quite high, her heartbeat was also high. There was nothing irregular with the baby's heartbeat though, thankfully. I stayed with her for a while until the doctor arrived just after 9pm to check on her. Since she wasn't showing any dilation or labour pains, he thought it best to sedate her at once so she could sleep through the night and the process would be carried on the following morning. It was therefore decided that I would drive her family home, go home myself and sleep and return early the following morning. We left around 9:30pm.
I dropped off her mom and aunt in Norwood, then drove Mapula to her brother's house in Cosmo City as she was working at The Dome early the following morning. Driving back I started to feel extreme hunger as I hadn't had a proper meal all day, and extreme fatigue as well, so much so that I was dozing off at the wheel. I decided to pull into the McDonald's along Beyers Naude drive in Honeydew and I ordered a Grand Chicken Spicy meal. It was a refreshing meal, and afterwards I thought it wouldn't be proper for me to leave Lerato by herself all night, even if she would be sedated. Besides, there was a big, comfy-looking chair by her bed. It wasn't the king-sized bed I'm used to but it would do. So I drove back to the hospital, less fatigued than before. I took my tablet and headphones to keep me company until I fell asleep and her nightgown from the boot to use as a blanket. It was around 11:15pm when I walked into the hospital, ready to sleep.
The sight which met me when I walked into her ward was shocking to say the least. She wasn't on her bed, and the bed itself looked like the scene of a huge fight. Lerato was half sitting, half lying on my would-be bed, the comfy looking chair, with a look of pain and confusion on her face that I won't forget anytime soon. I quickly figured out ukuthi seziyasha manje, but it was confusing because when I left she was being sedated, and she had indeed been given the sedative. Clearly in the 90+ minutes I had been gone the labour-inducing meds had done their job and her water broke. She had a nurse looking after her, a beautiful soul named Mbali. The epidural doctor was also there, I've forgotten his name so let's call him Dr Mjovo. The contractions were coming fast and looked very, very painful; my partner was acting like a crazy woman!! We had decided against doing ante-natal classes, so I was quite clueless on what I should be doing now. I decided holding her hand and trying to comfort her would be best. It was a futile exercise but I kept trying still.
Dr Mjovo wanted to start administering the epidural as Lerato was in unbearable pain. But the labour had progressed so quickly that she was now beyond the stage where they normally do the epidural, so he would have to be very careful. He started preparing his meds and needles, at this point I noticed that Mbali and Dr Mjovo are not the best of friends but I had bigger concerns. He told Lerato to sit with her legs hanging over the side of the bed, with her back facing him and arched sharply. This was easier said than done; her contractions were coming very fast with barely 30 seconds between them. He had initially planned to inject her between the contractions but this was now impossible; the epidural would have to be administered with the contractions, which meant Lerato had to keep absolutely still through the pain. Thus Mbali and I would have to try and keep her still by letting her hold our hands to squeeze out the pain. And boy could she squeeze!! At some point she took hold of my jeans and lifted me an inch or 2 off the floor.
Dr Mjovo cleaned her back, and then proceeded to drill into her spinal cord to inject the anaesthetic. I had lost track of time but that period when he was doing what he does were the scariest moments of my life. The list of everything which could go wrong was flying through my head: what if she twitches, what if she never walks again, what if he accidentally injects that thing into my son? She was doing her best to keep still, and I'll forever admire the bravery she showed on that day. Eventually Dr Mjovo asked if she could feel her legs and her buttocks. She answered no to both, and then suddenly realised that the pain was gone! Her relief filled the room, and we helped her lie back on the bed in her drugged state. She started shaking uncontrollably but Dr Mjovo assured us that this was normal with the epidural treatment. At this point I took the time to call her family and inform them of developments, in the chaos it had slipped my mind. Her mom and uncle were adamant that I should fetch them immediately as it was against their culture for the father to be in the room when the baby is delivered. I didn't much fancy leaving Lerato by herself so I declined as politely as I could. After informing my mother as well, I went back inside.
Around 1am (this was now Saturday morning, the 10th) we moved her to the delivery room as she was now fully dilated. The gynaecologist was on his way to deliver the baby. After the chaos and fighting of the past 2 hours, she was in a world of peace now so we took the time to laugh at her crazy antics and look forward to the little man on the way. She was still shaking, partly from the epidural and partly from the nerves. Her BP and heartbeat had improved significantly by now. The gynaecologist eventually arrived around 01:40am and he immediately went to work on her. The nurses set her legs up for delivery, at this point the boys head was apparently visible. I say apparently because I dared not look at what was happening down there. I've heard stories of men being so traumatised by the sight of their babies coming out of the birth canal that they lose their erections permanently. I quite like my erection and I'd rather not risk it, so from that point on I was posted firmly by her shoulder, with the nurses having put a cloth over the action area. As she couldn't feel anything, she was connected to a machine which measured her contractions, and the machine was indicating that it was now go time.
The gynae told her to start pushing, and push she did. I was holding her arm and motivating her throughout although I'm not convinced my motivation was necessary. I expected this process to take a while, but it was over in less than 5 minutes. She pushed 3 times and at exactly 01:52am the doctor pulled out a lump of flesh with our DNA written all over it. The little boy immediately took a deep breath and belted out the most beautiful scream I've ever heard; he has strong lungs, we both thought. After showing us his face, the nurses took him to a nearby table to clean him up. Neither Lerato nor I cried, I guess we were too shocked. While the doctor was stitching her up, I was vaguely aware of the umbilical cord and placenta somewhere beside him, both looking like mogodu. Still I dared not look at what he was working on. Mbali made a passing comment about how her daughters would be in danger from this handsome little boy. After they wiped him clean and put on his first nappy, they called me to come over and pick him up. I can't describe the feeling of holding my son in my hands for the first time, it was amazing. At 3.7kg, he wasn't a lightweight and he felt just right in my arms. Surprisingly, he had already stopped crying and was now sleeping peacefully, I guess he was quick to adjust.
After the doctor was done fixing her up, I took the little boy to sit on his mother's arms for the first time. The most beautiful moment in both our lives had arrived. The greatest job I'm ever gonna have had now begun. I never experienced having a father myself but I made a silent promise to be the best father ever to this little one. We gave him the names we had carefully selected for him months before he arrived: Ziphozonke Oratile.
