Thou shall not deliver!
The delivery date had shot past by 10 days & the body showed no signs of evacuating the baby. The uterus is tightly clamped…said the gynecologist & she was worried!
Since I had been unsuccessful in putting on significant amount of fat packs at prominent junctures of the body, she said “Bunts…the baby shall be severely under-weight”
So there I was….gobbling every bit of protein that the stomach grudgingly allowed from the list provided by the clinic to have a healthy baby. Result? The weighing scale tipped a wee bit after downing a few kilo’s of sprouts as advised. Now she was worried some more! Said the baby would be weak during birth.
The baby actually was HUGE & listening in annoyance from its pouch. It sure was pissed at being under-rated this way. And now this new dramatic turn of events! It just was too annoying for the baby with all this hulla bulla* & it decided to take the situation’s reigns into its hands.
Thou shall not get delivered! Thou shall sleep some more inside this warm cosy pocket & let them know who the boss actually is.
The gynecologist had different plans. She said we couldn’t waste time with the amniotic fluid drying up due to the baby’s size & full term. She worried about the baby’s bowels doing an unwanted expulsion in the uterus. Something like…jis thali main khate hain…ushi thali main ched karna!*
So it was decided to administer drugs to start the contractions. The gynecologist & the baby had started on a wrong footing right from day one. Whatever she said…the baby did otherwise. So here was this jail-bird* that didn’t want to come out & the thanedar* that wanted to release it. A difference of opinion! The sufferer? The host-body* that mutely endures both.
It had been twelve hours & four bottles of fluid. The bladder was bursting at the seams but the urethra was in full control. The nurse advises to use a bed-pan to avoid unhooking the fluid bottle. Ok says the host-body. So the bed-pan is strategically placed. Tick…tick…tick…wait…wait some more…command the urethra to open up. Cajole the urethra to open up. Request the urethra to open up. Plead the urethra to open up.
The nurse suggests squatting over it on the bed. Ok says the host-body once again. Tick…tick…tick…wait…wait some more…command the urethra to open up. Cajole the urethra to open up. Request the urethra to open up. Plead the urethra to open up.
The bed-pan is deriding the host-body by now. It’s scornful mirth is beginning to psychologically affect the host-body’s confidence. Some more pressure is exerted. Nay says the duct! The passage is on strike!
After every position & angle is deluded from the anals of medical succor…its truce time! A joint resolution of disconnecting the fluid pipes is taken. The host-body is paraded to the rest room where she rests & rests & rests!
After a million seconds…its back to enjoying the torturous moments of excruciating motherhood!
*hulla bulla – much ado
*jis thali main khate hain…ushi main ched karna! – to be disloyal to the one that helps.
* thanedar – law enforcer
* jail-bird – baby in the womb
* host-body – mother (in this case…me…moi…ma-self)
Copyright © BuntysBanter 2007
Since I had been unsuccessful in putting on significant amount of fat packs at prominent junctures of the body, she said “Bunts…the baby shall be severely under-weight”
So there I was….gobbling every bit of protein that the stomach grudgingly allowed from the list provided by the clinic to have a healthy baby. Result? The weighing scale tipped a wee bit after downing a few kilo’s of sprouts as advised. Now she was worried some more! Said the baby would be weak during birth.
The baby actually was HUGE & listening in annoyance from its pouch. It sure was pissed at being under-rated this way. And now this new dramatic turn of events! It just was too annoying for the baby with all this hulla bulla* & it decided to take the situation’s reigns into its hands.
Thou shall not get delivered! Thou shall sleep some more inside this warm cosy pocket & let them know who the boss actually is.
The gynecologist had different plans. She said we couldn’t waste time with the amniotic fluid drying up due to the baby’s size & full term. She worried about the baby’s bowels doing an unwanted expulsion in the uterus. Something like…jis thali main khate hain…ushi thali main ched karna!*
So it was decided to administer drugs to start the contractions. The gynecologist & the baby had started on a wrong footing right from day one. Whatever she said…the baby did otherwise. So here was this jail-bird* that didn’t want to come out & the thanedar* that wanted to release it. A difference of opinion! The sufferer? The host-body* that mutely endures both.
It had been twelve hours & four bottles of fluid. The bladder was bursting at the seams but the urethra was in full control. The nurse advises to use a bed-pan to avoid unhooking the fluid bottle. Ok says the host-body. So the bed-pan is strategically placed. Tick…tick…tick…wait…wait some more…command the urethra to open up. Cajole the urethra to open up. Request the urethra to open up. Plead the urethra to open up.
The nurse suggests squatting over it on the bed. Ok says the host-body once again. Tick…tick…tick…wait…wait some more…command the urethra to open up. Cajole the urethra to open up. Request the urethra to open up. Plead the urethra to open up.
The bed-pan is deriding the host-body by now. It’s scornful mirth is beginning to psychologically affect the host-body’s confidence. Some more pressure is exerted. Nay says the duct! The passage is on strike!
After every position & angle is deluded from the anals of medical succor…its truce time! A joint resolution of disconnecting the fluid pipes is taken. The host-body is paraded to the rest room where she rests & rests & rests!
After a million seconds…its back to enjoying the torturous moments of excruciating motherhood!
*hulla bulla – much ado
*jis thali main khate hain…ushi main ched karna! – to be disloyal to the one that helps.
* thanedar – law enforcer
* jail-bird – baby in the womb
* host-body – mother (in this case…me…moi…ma-self)
Copyright © BuntysBanter 2007
posted by Bunty's Banter at 9:14 AM
1 Comments:
Only you could put humor into somethings like this hon !
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