My English is not very good, but I will try my best. After eight hours of giving birth contractions, I was urgently taken to the operation theatre for a cesarean. I had general anesthesia. Then the next thing was that I saw myself lying on the operation bed with a green sheet full of blood on my right and at the level of my liver. There were people in green pajamas walking around me in a very anxious way. I could see my face, but I didn’t know it was mine. I was observing the scene with no emotion, like it was nothing to do with me. I was in a very pleasant feeling, something like the nothing and the all in the same package.
I saw a nurse slapping my face and screaming my name. I felt as though a child in winter when my mum would wake me up to go to school. I would ask her for five more minutes just to enjoy the coziness of a warm bed and the desire of a bit more sleep. I don’t know when or how I recognized that woman (on the bed) as myself and without emotion, like a picture of myself. Then I remembered why I was there. My babe, my husband, my friends, my life…I smiled inside because I liked it very much, more than I was conscious of it. On the other hand, I didn’t want to break my peace in capital letters. I understood that I was dying and could choose to stay or go back. I thought it was great and silly, being afraid of life. That gave me the strength to go back. I wanted to see my daughter and husband.
The nurse was slapping my face and another woman was giving a blood transfer into my right arm. At that moment, I felt that I had to make a quick decision and run into my body if I wanted to stay alive. I ran mentally into my body, which felt like going inside a glove or landing into something of exactly my size. I opened my eyes and asked to see my babe. I realized everyone’s face looked very worried so I thought the babe had a problem. The babe was okay; they were worried about me.
They told me (I knew) that I was bleeding too much and they couldn’t stop it. I haven’t told this to too many people because I don’t want to have any confrontations, possible explanations like dreaming and it was the effect of the anesthesia, or that I was mad. I knew it was something real and beautiful and I felt lucky to have had it and didn’t want anyone to damage it.
Last Updated ( Thursday, 21 May 2009 08:49 )