It was a Sunday morning, I woke up and felt the pain or maybe the pain woke me up. Since it took so long to deliver my eldest son, I told myself, take my time to prepare myself this time. I woke hubby and my son up and told them it is time to go to the hospital. My son was almost three then. Like any other toddler, at first he fuss around refuse to wake up but when I told him that we need to get to the hospital to get his brother, he jumped up and could not stop asking question.
I brush my teeth, took a shower and even had time to prepare breakfast. I want to make sure my son had a full stomach before we leave the house. Once we reach the hospital the nurse asked me to sit on a wheel chair and wheeled me straight to the labour room. Hubby then took my son to the ground floor to register and make payment.
When I was being wheeled to the labour room, the nurse asked if this was my first child, told them it was my second and that's it. The nurses and the mid-wife in the labour room all started treating me differently. Most of the time I was given that "you should know better" statement assuming I should memorized all the details as to what I should do next like memorizing a text book preparing for a major exam. Luckily the doctor, the same male doctor that delivered my eldest son, still treat me like before.
No wonder most ladies I asked preferred a male doctor to deliver their child as they are more sympathetic than female doctors. Most female doctors, midwife and female nurses get agitated easily during labour and put up that "serves you right, you asked for it" look most of the time. Hahahah, no offense to female nurses and doctors out there.
As far as I could remember, the nurses treated me better the first time around. Anyway, back to my tale, right after hubby had done filling up the necessary forms and made payment, he took my son to see me in the labour ward. By the time they reach my room, the nurse is ready to show them my second son.
My eldest was so excited seeing his brother for the first time and still couldn't stop asking questions. He used to hold my tummy with his two tiny hands and put his ear near and listen. Sometime when the baby moved while his hands are still on my tummy, he would laugh and asked thousands of questions. At last I got him a brother to play with, or should I say fight and argue with as they grow up.
Thanks for reading my tale and hope you have a wonderful day, today and everyday.