Leimamo’s Life

On August 31st, twenty-nine years ago, I was sitting in my mom’s red Datsun watching my youngest brother’s football practice at Pilila’au park when all of a sudden, I felt a pain in my stomach. It wasn’t very sharp but I knew something was happening so I turned to my mom and described the pain I was having. So told me I was in labor so she let my brother know and we drove home.

After gathering my hospital bag, we drove to my grandma’s house to let her know too. Then we were on our way, but then we took the exit to Waipahu so we could let my Aunty know too. Luckily, the contractions were still far apart and they weren’t severe yet. We finally made it to Kapiolani and I was examined and admitted.

I had a private labor room but I could hear other women screaming and groaning and that crap scared me more than the contractions. I was still a long way from giving birth so my mom would run upstairs to take smoke breaks every so often. But as soon as I heard someone screaming, I’d ring the nurse and ask her to page my mom. She told me she didn’t even get to smoke before she heard her name being paged. Then she told me that my grandma, Aunties, Uncles, cousins, and brothers were in the lobby waiting for me to give birth. Eventually, after a few more hours of waiting, most of them went home while my grandma, Aunty and brothers stayed overnight. They slept in the lobby.

That night, my contractions suddenly stopped and the nurse came in to do another exam. She said she couldn’t find my waterbag and asked if it had ruptured. I told her it hadn’t and if it had, I surely would’ve noticed but they induced my labor anyway. At first the pains were mild, then a few hours later, they examined me again and they felt my waterbag but it was too late to stop the labor so they broke the waterbag and all of a sudden — PAIN.

Suddenly I understood why the ladies the other ladies were screaming. The nurses and my mom tried breathing techniques with me but when they stopped breathing so did I. I’d tap my mom on her arm and tell her, “Mom, breathe, breathe.” Poor mom, she was sweating from all the breathing she had to do for me. And she was probably having a nicotine withdrawal fit. So this goes on for a few hours, then finally it’s time for me to move onto the gurney so they could wheel me to the delivery room. Why on earth do they make a person who is in excruciating pain with a huge belly climb off one gurney onto another?? Must’ve been something a MAN suggested.

So we’re in the delivery room and I’m still relying on my mom to breathe for/with me to keep me from passing out after holding my breath. There’s movement all around me but I’m so focused on the pain that everything is almost a blur. I say almost because I heard the part about “need to use forceps”. Imagine trying to fit Salad spoons into .. well, just imagine how painful THAT can be and how traumatic it was for a 16 year old. So after a few more deep breathing, and a blood curdling scream, alas my baby was born. And he was adorable, although bald. Too bad they didn’t have this back in the day, huh?
29 years later, that boy still makes me scream, silent inward screams. But when I think about his birth and that little adorable baby in my arms, I can’t help but to love him. So despite the terrible twos, terrible teens and terrible adults (OK, so it doesn’t go together), I want to send him all my love and wish him a wonderful 29th birthday.

Happy Birthday Bulla!