The paradox: a difficult nurse actually shaped a perfect birth day.
The story goes like this: in the morning, as regular contractions began, I went to the hospital. I was admitted to a ward and told to move around a lot: I walked inside the hospital and outside around the building. When the contractions got stronger, every 10 minutes I went to the nurse to ask when I should go to the delivery room. She scowled and snapped: “Your face isn’t distorted enough yet, go back to the ward.” Frustrated by her insensitivity, I went outside to keep walking around the hospital. Outside, on that beautiful spring day, the contractions passed quickly and easily.
Later, my husband arrived with our first child. We went to a nearby café, and I enjoyed a chocolate pastry while the contractions were getting more frequent and intense. I had to stop and breathe through them, but my mood stayed great. My husband and I jokingly complained about the unhelpful hospital staff. I watched our firstborn enjoying the beautiful day.
Contractions came and went. Even though it was painful, I cheerfully asked my husband: “Is my face distorted enough yet?” and we laughed. After spending the day so well, I returned to the ward in a good mood. As soon as my husband and child left, my waters broke. I got to the delivery room already 9 cm dilated and delivered fairly quickly and successfully.
I might want to be angry at that grumpy nurse, but thanks to her, I spent the day not in bed, but with my family. Whenever someone asks about my birth, I always remember that chocolate pastry, eaten just three hours before my child was born.
