Pregnancy

Relax! Am not pregnant, my wifey is… So we’re pregnant.

Well, it’s been a while since I wrote a personal blog post, years actually. Over the last one year, even posting any of my life’s escapades on Facebook, Twirra and IG has gone down drastically. Reason? My life has changed man! How? Got hitched! So these days I’ve got better things to do ;-). Also I have less time and content to post.

Never thought of myself as a family man but ladies and gents, the lion has been tamed! Ha ha! To be honest, I do love family, my sister, mum and all; however having my own never really played in my mind.

But here we are, about a year later, as I jot this down am at Mater Hospital maternity clinic. Am here for wifey’s antenatal clinic visit. The last visit!  I try to go with her whenever am available. These visits are on Tuesdays so I’ve missed a few because of work and all. So yeah! Let that sink in… Told you the lion has been tamed!

We ain’t in a hurry today, actually we haven’t been for the last few visits. Our appointment is scheduled for 8am. But I think everyone gets the same appointment time. Everyone gets there around the same time anyway, it’s chaotic. I thought Mater Hospital is well organized. So we deliberately go there late, it’s less hectic when everything has settled down; plus you don’t have to wait too long to see the Doc. Before we discovered this trick, we’d wait for hours on end, six hours plus.

Quick breakfast, pancakes (my favorite), chicken sausages and a cup of coffee. I’ve become accustomed to this life, family life. Not too shabby. We’re ready to go. We decide to walk to the clinic today; we’ve heard from “reliable” sources that walking is good for her especially in her last trimester.  So we walk. You’d think this is cool but No! There’s this thing about a pregnant woman that makes people feel “woiye woiye”. It’s cool as long as it works in your favor, like that time we were at the bank and we didn’t have to queue, that was awesome! But today am on the flip side. As we walk past people I can sort of hear murmurs, “why is he making her walk?” “Hata hawezi mlipia nduthi?”  A mathree drives by us, the tout looks towards me and shouts; “Brathe, kumi! Mater ni kumi tuu!” Am ashamed, I look away… Am frowned upon, we (I) soldier on.

We (I) get there thankfully safe, no activists, no feminists, no lynch mob drama for making her walk.

At the clinic reception, wifey takes a numbered form to fill out her details. Our number is 72, better than number 100 last week. The attendant takes our form and medical card. “Please take a sit and wait”, she says.

We sit and wait. We wait and wait. This is boring, I chat with wifey for a few minutes, tell her how now that I’ve come here so many times I should be the chairman of “men with pregnant women”, and for a brief second I realize how sexist that sounds. Wifey chuckles, she laughs at anything “funny” I say, not sure if it’s because of how lame my “jokes” are.

Sitting here waiting makes my senses wonder, kinda like auto pilot mode, I stare; I stare at pregnant women, big bellies, small bellies, funny shaped bellies, all kind of bellies. Occasionally a big bellied man passes by, so those kinda bellies too, man bellies. “I should ask him when he is due”, I say to wifey, she laughs, that was funny am sure.

Pregnant women are grumpy, they aren’t a happy lot; they’re impatience, restless, moody. It’s the pregnancy so am told. I don’t remember ever seeing them talking to each other. They sit there occasionally going to the reception area to ask how far before it gets to their number. “Please wait madam, tuko number 60!” the attendant retorts. They have a hard time those attendants. But wifey has handled her (our) pregnancy like a champ. I feel sorry for the male members of my aforementioned Chama. They sit there next to their partners; you can tell this isn’t their cup of tea but more power to them for being there for their partners.

I like to take wifey out to lunch if we’re far off in line, but not today, they’re moving fast, not so many people here today.

Wifey’s name is called out, she goes into a room, this room I’ve noticed some women come out holding a cup, go to the washrooms and go back in. This puzzled me a few times so I asked wifey.

Me: “What are the cups for?”

Wifey: “To pee in”

*Weird silence*

*Cricket sounds*

Me:  “Aih! Pee in a cup? That’s weird, why?”

Wifey: “Relax, it’s to run tests to make sure you don’t have any infections”

Me: “Okay”

*Looks around to see who is holding a cup*

So as it turns out, women are prone to various infections during pregnancy thus they keep checking every time they visit the clinic.

After the pee business they check her weight and blood pressure. All clear! She’s good! “Please sit and wait for the Doctor to see you”, says the sister from the triage section.

We wait, again!

This time it’s not so long a wait, we’re almost there, just five people ahead of us. From the outside you can hear the sound from the Doppler fetal heart rate monitor; the Doctor uses it to check the “baby’s” heartbeat. It’s weird the first time you hear it but I’ve gotten used to it. But not that guy from last week, I think it was his first time, when he heard it, he almost took off, I guess he thought we we’re under attack, granted, they were a few Kenyan Somali there that day.

Finally we’re called into the observation room;

Doc: “Hi Angela, please take a sit”

Wifey: “Thank you”

When the Doc (male) notices me, he stares at me for a second as if to say, “Damn! You again?”

Doc: “Ohh…you? You too, have a sit”

Me: “Asante”

LONG PAUSE

The doctor takes a look at Wifey’s file, checks on something on his computer screen, then scribbles something;

Doc: “So how are you feeling today Angela?”

Wifey: “Good, just the normal, pain on the sides and the under belly and a few contractions”

Doc: “Ok, that’s normal. Please lay on the bed and uncover your belly”

Wifey complies. I’m uneasy; I say to myself, I wish it was that easy for me. I should be a doctor!

He touches her belly, I notice wifey is too comfortable for my liking, I swear I saw a smile on her face. Should I ask him to stop? I persevere; I know I should be used to it by now but haven’t. I prefer when it’s the lady Doctor, ironically Wifey likes the male Doctor. “He is gentle”, she says. I’ll let that one slide, just this once. No comment. Again, why am I not a Doctor?

Doc does his thing, checks the “baby’s” position, heart beat and everything. “All is good”, he says.

Doc: “Angela, turn on the side and get up”

He’s done with her, she complies.

Wifey: “How about my weight, is it ok?”

Doc gives her reassurance with a nod

Wifey: “Doc I’m past 40 weeks now”

Doc: “Yes but still within what we consider normal period, if you won’t have gone into labor by this time next week, which is unlikely, we’ll call you and admit you and you’ll be induced, ok?!”

Me: “Yes sir!”

Wifey gives me the look.

Wifey: “Yes, thank you Doc”

We walk out and walk home…