The burning birthing train

We are born in others’ pain and perish in our own

This statement is so true not only in the worldly sense but also in spiritual one. Empathetic outlook helps in understanding where the shoe pinches. Sometimes the situation engulfs you in such a way that there is no option other than to feel the pricks. The experience can be traumatic or enlightening depending upon the outcome.

It was late January morning in 1990 when I boarded the train at 10.30. Gwalior experiences chilling cold during winters. I was 5 months pregnant and tired with the continuous exchange long duties in the hospital in order to get 3 days compensatory off. With my swollen feet and 9 gm Hb (!!), I had to travel to Bhopal to attend one of the many ceremonies to be held in the first year of marriage. Thanks god, it was the last one of the series. With lack of sleep and physical awkwardness experienced in the first pregnancy, I was irritable. To top it up, I had outgrown all my clothes and didn't have enough time to buy new ones. Aradhna solved my problem by handing over 2 oversized dresses.

My maasi (mom’s elder sister) was accompanying me for two reasons. First, I was in second trimester and second, she was like a mother to me. I didn’t agree to celebrate anything in her absence. She was a woman with very average looks. Being a high school teacher, her students (exclusively girls) were everywhere on the earth- in market, at the railway station, in the marriage…She was an ideal for her students, but more than that she meant a lot to me and my siblings. She never got married due to her plain looks and the fact that she wore spectacles. My grandmother stopped expecting of getting her married after few bitter experiences. I always pity that non-existent family of my maasi who could have benefitted from her wisdom, intelligence, culinary skills and other life-skills.

We settled at the window seat. We were the only female passengers in the compartment. With my obvious protrusion, the co-passengers gave enough space for me to lie down. Being assured that I am comfortable, maasi settled down to finish the woollen pullover she was knitting for Arvind. Sleep deprivation and rhythmic motion of the train cradled me to deep sleep. I could smell the spirit and liquor in the labour room. I was dreaming about preparation being done in OT. The woman was very nervous as she was told that her baby is sinking. Being a house surgeon, patients felt at ease to talk to me. She was holding my hand very tight. I was trying to tell her not to worry and let me go and get scrubbed for the caesarean. My senior was scolding one of the interns for not matching details of the blood unit –“how can you be so callous? It’s a human life that we are dealing here. Let the experience lead to a mechanical management of routine situation and not groom insensitivity.” Suddenly the woman let out a loud shriek and was shaking me vigorously.

I woke up with a startle. Maasi  was shaking me up, with the co-passengers looking at me expectantly. There was a lean teenage boy standing in the passage. He had tears in his eyes and lump in the throat. He was escorting his full term sister from Jhansi to Ganjbasoda. As it was her third pregnancy with two living daughters, the in-laws were not ready to bear expenses of this delivery. She was in active labour now and we were the only females in the compartment. “I don’t have any experience of childbirth, but my niece here is a doctor” maasi informed him. Now I could infer their expressions, I was being looked upon as the saviour. My throat started choking under the pressure. I am trained to deliver a baby in ideal situation, can I do anything here? But I was not left with any other choice than facing the music.

The boy led me to the toilet where I was horrified by the scene. I could see the baby’s head, another contraction and it will be out!! There was no time to take the lady back to the compartment. I have to do something. Its right or wrong will be decided retrospectively. In the small 4x4 space I squeezed myself with the only aim to catch the baby when it delivers. One lapse and it can slide down the toilet.

What is the normal birthing process? What did my magician obstetrics teacher Dr Oliyai has taught me? Childbirth is a natural process. Do not interfere it, support it. My eyes were fixed upon the baby. It rotated and delivered in what seemed to be eternity. It was a tiny girl with wide eyes. Her body reflected position of her mother in the family but her eyes were blazing with life. (God! let the placenta deliver and spare me with the nightmare of bleeding!)

“Can somebody get me a clean blade and a thread, and some clean cloth too?” I yelled to the compartment without losing focus on the baby in my hand. It was quite a balancing act to sit on toes in a rocking enclosed space with your hands full with a slimy active life. Till now the men were stand-still and stupefied with the experience they were encountering. Suddenly everybody started responding to my request. Somebody sacrificed a new blade from his shaving kit, maasi handed over wool strand to tie the cord, few male handkerchiefs replaced sanitary pads, a bath towel was generously given to wrap the baby.

I was holding the slippery cord in my hand and massaging uterus with the other. Don’t pull the cord , Keep one hand on the abdomen. Put baby to the breast, it will help in uterine contraction and expulsion of the placenta. It seems that Usha sister- the labour room incharge was overlooking the process and giving me instructions. I followed all of them obediently. The placenta was kept in an empty mithai  box . Always examine the placenta for its completeness. I carried the baby and asked maasi to escort the exhausted mother upto the berth. The baby was put to breast while I kept on massaging the uterus till I was sure that it was hard. It was the first time that I looked at the woman. She was worried as again a daughter was born. At the same time she expressed mute obligation for supporting her during the difficult time. The whole compartment rejoiced when the young boy brought the baby out to show them.

Suddenly I felt drained. With limp legs I came back to the seat. My enxiety and apprehension seems to be transmitted to the life inside me and I could feel excessive foetal kicks. I started crying with an unexplained mixed feeling. I was afraid, horrified, shocked, happy, elated, relieved, worried…. Co-passengers were understanding enough to let me settle down . Baby and the mother got down at their destination. The young boy came to me and touched my feet without saying a word. We all were overwhelmed with emotions for different reasons.

The train Ticket Collector came to know about the incidence. He was very overt to show the appreciation and gratitude. Later I got a letter from him which was written reiterating the feelings he had expressed earlier. That letter is still a source of motivation whenever I have the doubt and start asking myself the question- What can I do alone?