At the appointment, the doctor listens to everything you have to say, makes notes on a small scrap of paper, and on similar scraps writes out a prescription or a referral for the necessary examination. What to do with these scraps later is your own business, and no one even asks for them afterwards.
Out of a sense of duty, I did go to the above-mentioned specialists a couple of times, but not impressed by either the level of work or the depressingly shabby condition of their offices, I decided that everything was fine with me and that I wouldn't need doctors anymore before giving birth. Periodically, I only stopped by a good laboratory to check my hemoglobin level, and if it dropped, I simply corrected it with diet.
Time passed, my belly grew, and I had to decide on a place and a doctor to deliver the baby. In connection with this, I interrogated relatives, friends, and strangers with children by the pool. And the following picture emerged:
– There are only free maternity hospitals, and it's better not to go there on pain of death;
– There is one new, clean, well-equipped hospital, but the doctors there have only just graduated from college, and the stories about their work vary widely, but none are very pleasant;
– There are two excellent experienced doctors with impeccable reputations, working at well-known hospitals. But these hospitals are not known for their cleanliness or modern equipment;
– In Auroville, there is a nurse who can deliver water births (another unfulfilled dream). We called her, but she said she only helps Aurovillians, and don't even try to persuade her;
– There is an excellent world-renowned hospital with wonderful conditions for patients. But it is located in Chennai and a few other major Indian cities. I didn't want to move to another city and wait for the birth, so that option was not even considered.
In the end, we went to see the two recommended mastodon doctors and the conditions offered in their hospitals. What surprised me was that neither place had a separate maternity ward.The offered rooms were located next to the rooms of regular patients, which is not exactly what a mother dreams of for her newborn child.
In one of them, we were shown a room whose door opened onto a bedside table with tests cooling on it. In the other, the room was at the end of a hallway, had a small balcony, air conditioning, a refrigerator, a TV, a toilet, and two beds. The choice was final and irrevocable – we agreed on the second one.
Day "X"
Unlike Russian maternity hospitals, in India they did not provide a list of necessary items to bring for admission. However, that didn't stop us from bringing impressive bags on the day of delivery, which contained, among other things: a bottle with a sterilizer and bed sheets for both beds. The sheets are understandable, and with the sterilizer, Vilena (my best friend) went over all surfaces in the room that we had a chance to touch. She didn't wash the walls though.
The delivery room didn't look very sterile, so we brought our own sheet there too. As it turned out, it was unnecessary, as the local doctors are well aware of all the risks and literally from the moment you enter the hospital start injecting antibiotics – as a preventive measure. Just in case. And they continue until discharge... So, truly, we and the baby didn't pick up any infections there.
As for the process, everything went well. I don't think it's common practice, but Vilena stayed with me the entire time; she simply didn't let herself be shown the door. In addition, I immediately warned my doctor that I would not tolerate any painkillers or other chemicals, and I managed to keep a watchful eye to ensure that my request was fully complied with. I must say that the doctor proved to be a true professional, acted clearly and calmly, and overall gave no reason to be dissatisfied with her work.
Whether it was a long or short time, after a few hours of choral chanting of the mantra Om (note to the hostess – chanting the mantra Om perfectly helps ease contractions and spare the ears of those around from the less pleasant components of your vocabulary), a lovely little Liechka came into the world. Liechka was placed on my belly, and the first thing she did was grab my finger and quietly snuffle (as it turned out, a baby doesn't necessarily have to start screaming right after birth:)
Then the baby was taken to be cleaned and swaddled, right past the crowd of friends and relatives who had been waiting outside the door all this time. After a while, Vilena and I also crawled out from behind the door; she was no less tired than I was. Just half an hour after delivery, the first photos of the happy family in full appeared.
Right After
An interesting detail: the hospital did not provide food. So, attention (!), first thing after giving birth, I ate a Brownie, then also had a cheese croissant. And on the remaining days, I ate what my husband brought. And my husband brought what I love – vegetable sandwiches, chocolate croissants, yogurts, and lemon iced tea. Several months later, I listened to stories from recently delivered friends about how at first they ate only boiled potatoes without salt, sometimes alternating with buckwheat, and I felt uneasy. Fortunately, right after giving birth, I knew nothing of that, and what's most interesting, the baby was perfectly fine and didn't seem to mind the croissants at all).
The baby slept on my single bed until discharge; she was only taken once for her first vaccination. The second bed came in handy for Vilena, who stayed with us the whole time and provided much-needed moral and physical support.
Visitors
Liechka was born at 10 PM, and by 9 AM the next day, an unexpected first visitor appeared. Others followed — some called ahead, others just came without warning. Everyone brought presents, congratulated us, cooed over the little bundle, and so on. However, I was not thrilled about all this, because the last thing I wanted on my first day after giving birth was to smile politely and make small talk.
Discharge and payment
Just a day after giving birth, the doctors decided that our condition was not a cause for concern and let us go free. For everything, we paid 17 thousand rupees at discharge, which is a little over $300.
And, of course, as you might have guessed, no nurses came to us afterwards or even called. All responsibility for the child's health and proper development from the very first days fell on the parents' shoulders, that is, ours.
Moral
I realized the moral of this "fable" only recently, when my husband seriously asked if I wanted to give birth to our second child in Moscow. Despite the attractiveness of this proposal in terms of support from relatives, I weighed all the pros and cons and answered "no" with a clear conscience.
Let Indian hospitals not impress with their hygiene, I was won over by the ease of preparation, the professionalism of the doctor, the friendly attitude of the staff, and the opportunity to feel my husband's support both before and immediately after childbirth.
Anna TIKHAYA-TISHCHENKO,
"Gazeta.Ru".