I am very vain. If I should walk past any mirror, I immediately look at it. I even put on make up at home! The thought of people looking at my ‘nude’ face, makes me want to choose death over it.
On the 9th of November, 2001, around 8.30 in the morning, I woke up, went to the toilet and realised that I was going to have the baby that very day! I went downstairs, ate my breakfast and told my mum that I was going out for a while. But my mother, never one to let me wander out alone in my late pregnancy, had an entourage accompanying me, should anything happen.
I went to the Bodyshop to get some waterproof make up, went to the Club, washed and blew my hair (with curls!) and then started feeling the contractions. Bearing it and not wanting to return home early, I called my hubby for lunch. But being ever the amazing man that he is, he was able to trace the difference in my voice and all the way from Subang, rushed to the club and then said, “It’s time isn’t it?”
As he stood up, I pulled him back down. I wasn’t ready to go, not without eating my chicken rice. He looked at me gap-mouthed. “Please? Confinement, 44 days! I won’t be able to eat!” I pleaded with him. I could feel my contractions as I ate but I hid the pain from everyone by gripping the arm of the chair, tightly.
Finally, off to my house, picked up my bag and to the hospital and it was 2.30pm by then. The nurses confirmed it would be soon and asked if I would like to wash up. I looked at them like they were crazy. With my nicely made up face?!
By 4, the midwife had burst the water bag, and with all the crying and pleading, I managed to keep the nurses away from my face, when they wanted to put a cold towel on. My husband gave me a fully fledged commentary as I delivered, for which I ached to kick him!
As the pain got worse, my husband and I had a debate about the epidural. He was all for it. I was against it (1000RM for a jab?! I’d rather go shopping with that!) By 7pm, I was already in so much in pain that I was screaming for the doctor to pull the baby out. So at 7.11pm, my daughter, Maisarah was born, weighing 3.83kg.
One thing I remember all to clearly, though, is the nurses talking among themselves…
“What’s with the make up?”
“She said she wanted to look pretty!”
