The Day My World Changed
Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
Already with thee! tender is the night,
And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
Cluster’d around by all her starry Fays;
But here there is no light,
Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
“She would prefer to have a natural birth”, I said, thinking about my wife, who was scared of a cesarian procedure.
Susi was not due for another week but looked enormous. Her ankles were terribly swollen too and had started to turn a nasty shade of purple too.
I was worried for her and for the baby.
The doctor turned to me and said, “This not fair. She, a little Thai woman. This giant falang* baby. Tomorrow morning. we get it out!”
One could hardly object to his logic and I turned to Susi to encourage her once again to opt for the doctor’s advice rather than to see what she wanted.
She was beaten. She was obviously very uncomfortable and complications would only start to happen if we waited too long for this giant foreign baby to decide he was ready to make a move.
Susi nodded and laid her head back down on the pillow of the examination table.
Note: Most people talking about their child begin to glow as they do so and all first time parents talk the most about their experience, oblivious or not even caring that the experience has been shared by every other mother and father on earth to some degree or another.
It can be tedious, even irritating, for those who are childless for any reason, either by choice or circumstance. Oftentimes, the information heard or read is just ‘irrelevant’ and if this is how you feel about baby stories, you had best move on to another post without delay.
I had always wanted to be a father and in a former relationship which never worked out, it did not happen. Maybe that was for the best.
Since living with Susi, we had always hoped she might fall pregnant, but despite every reasonable effort, it never happened either.
Anyway, life moved on and over time, we settled into life with four dogs.
What happened next can be read HERE
Anyway, fast forward to the 10th of March 2017; Susi has got big and the Doctor, as detailed above has decided that in the interests of the baby and Susi, the baby needed to arrive post haste.
We were told that an appointment had been made at the Japanese Hospital in Siracha where we should present at 10pm.
Susi would not be allowed any food to drink from then on.
We had a few hours until we had to be at the hospital. We had kept our hospital bag for a few months ready near the door just in case. I had been premature and there was a risk the baby might come early.
As it turned out, the risk was now that our little bun was in no hurry to leave the oven and the longer he remained there, the potential risks increased.
Susi and I were both nervous and we decided that we should go to a restaurant to grab some food before the impending 10 pm deadline. Susi determined to go to a seafood restaurant, despite my protests.
We parked nearby the restaurant and despite the delightful surroundings, neither of us really had an appetite. Susi endeavoured well and finished her food, before we set off for the Samitivej Sriracha Hospital.
We were shown upstairs to the maternity ward and taken to a room. It was not like any hospital room I had seen in England, but rather more like an en suite hotel room, with a hospital bed in it.
There was an enormous sofa in the room too which folded down and doubled as a makeshift bed for fathers to stay.
The following morning, at 6:30am the nurses came into the room and started to prepare Susi with an intravenous drip and gave her a couple of pills before wheeling her bed toward the door. I followed. We were being taken down.
It was only then that the doctor explained ‘under no circumstances was I allowed to be with Susi. They explained that it does not happen in Thailand. So we said our goodbyes and I watched as she was wheeled through a pair of opaque double doors, which closed behind them.
I waited and did everything expectant fathers do. I paced up and down. I wandered about and tried to find somewhere to buy a coffee.
In reality, I was only by myself for about 30 minutes until the doctor appeared as if from nowhere.
I asked about Susi but he did not answer me and informed me that I would be able to see the baby now.
I was led to a window which had a curtain closed on the other side of the glass.
After what felt like an eternity (about a minute), the curtains were pulled back and I could see in the room a row of about 15 little transparent plastic cribs with little red-faced black-haired babies, wrapped in either pink or blue blankets.
The nurse in the room, gestured for me to look a little to my left and there was a very large plastic incubator was an enormous pale-skinned, bald baby. It was asleep.
This was him. This was Sebastian! There was no way he was going to fit in the little boxes the other babies had. He was massive by comparison!!
Kindly another nurse came out and took the camera so we could get some shots of him. It was great although a little abstract.
I was then directed to return to the room and wait.
I was becoming increasingly anxious about Susi and although I followed the instructions, I could feel my stress levels rising.
About an hour later, Susi was wheeled into the room, unconscious. The nurse explained that she would wake up in her own time and she would be in some discomfort when she did.
*most European and American visitors to Thailand will quickly become familiar with the Thai word farang (often mispronounced (even by Thais) as falang – farang with a slightly trilled ‘r’ is the correct pronunciation).
It’s basically used to describe caucasian foreigners, though black foreigners will sometimes also be known as farang or as farang dam (‘black foreigner’).