On the 13th May 2011, I was lying on my
back, with my legs in the air, trying to expell a human being from my
uterus. (Yes, the inner child is notoriously shy). My
cervix was stubborn and unyielding. Two epidurals didn't work, a spinal
block didn't work. I had a mysterious infection, was running a fever and
my heart was beating too fast. I was beginning to accept the doctrine
of original sin as the only possible explanation for the bottomless well
of pain in which I was drowning.
In walked a young medical student called Sanna.
"Are you from Scotland?", I said. Well, I was high on entonox. In fact,
like all the best people, Sanna is from many places. She held my hand,
mopped my brow to cool me down, said encouraging things, remained calm.
Most importantly, she stayed by my side, for 8-10 hours, right until the
end, and then beyond. (There was another woman there too, goes by the
name of Einav.
More about her another time). We talked (between contractions), about
geopolitics and anaesthetics, about future peace and future plans. But I
think the most important quality in any caregiver, whether they are a
doctor, a nurse or a friend or partner, is something that can't be put
into words. The fact is that without Sanna, I would not have been able
to give birth normally. (Though how anyone can call *that* normal is
beyond me). By the same logic, Sanna is also responsible for the fact
that I can no longer jump on a trampoline with the carefree abandon of
yore.
When Maya was born, she was not well, so they had to take
her away from me. Einav went with Maya and the neonatologist to the
NICU. It was horrible. Worse than all the physical pain. Lying there in
shock, with the midwife's hands making sure the placenta was fully gone,
not knowing what was going on with my baby, wanting just to hold her.
Sanna was there. Maya and I to stay in the hospital for a further eight
days while she recovered, undergoing treatment that was upsetting for
both of us. Sanna visited.
There is no word in the English
language for friends you make while giving birth, but there should be.
Sanna definitely holds a unique place in our hearts. And she is an
exceptional human being, one that you want your children to marry so
that you can have her in your family. Right now she's working for a UK
charity as a paediatric emergency room doctor in Malawi. This is her
calling. Happy the patients who luck upon her, sick or injured though
they be!
Sanna visited us recently, shortly before leaving for Malawi. The children clamboured all over her, as though she was a mother lioness, and they her cubs. Did they know on
some level who she was? Or is she just universally wonderful?
This is the mystery of Sanna!