The Mothers of Ward 31

Shortly after the birth of my son, we were both wheeled from Birth Suite to the Maternity Ward.
Like most Public Hospitals, my ward had four cubicles, and Little Love and I filled the last available.
I never really saw my fellow Mummys, but throughout my stay I inevitably learnt a lot about them, as you cannot help but hear what goes on mere meters away from you.

And so, in my effort to create some sort of generic-hospital-voyeuristic-sit-com in my head, may I present,

The Mothers of Ward 31

Bed 1 - It's all in the Family

This bed was occupied by a relatively young Mummy, and this was her first baby.
Her partner would come in to see her and baby every day, for hours at a time, and would delight in making phone calls detailing how incredibly proud he was of his lady for going through a 27 hour labour, and how brave she was for accepting the fact that after all of those hours, it resulted in a c-section.

This young lady had a lot of support. In fact every time it was visiting hours (partners do not have to abide by these, they can visit anytime) she would have masses of people come to say hello and meet baby.
Even though she and I were separated by a drawn curtain, I could still see hints of the masses of flowers, balloons, teddies, and other congratulatory gifts that were seemingly crowding her cubical.
I heard her greet friends, uncles and aunts, brothers, sisters, little nieces, nephews and cousins (who spent the majority of their time running up and down the corridor between the cubicles, or opening the curtain and peering curiously in at me), mother, father, in-laws - it seemed like everyone she knew!
I was shocked by how many people would pay her visits, but mostly by the numbers they would come in. Instead of a few people visiting at a time, and the 2 hour block of visiting hours being divided up for various friends and family, huge groups would all cram into her cubical. Most days these groups could not all fit, and so they would open the curtain, and spill out into the corridor, almost filling it entirely.
The noise was so loud during these times, that I couldn't be heard over the phone when I tried to make a call!

It was no surprise that I would overhear her telling her partner at night how tired she was of all the company, and how she was finding it impossible to comfortably breastfeed her baby in front of so many people; all of whom it seemed knew the 'right' way to get the baby to latch.

All that being said, she was discharged with her baby the day before I was, and she seemed very happy.

Bed 2 - Tricks and Giggles

I fell in love with this couple. Just listening to their banter made me smile. This lady was also a first time Mummy, and she and her husband were absolutely over the moon.
They had been blessed with a baby boy, and were constantly debating the name that should be chosen.
Every morning the husband would arrive with a list of new name possibilities, and they would spend the day going through the list, whittling it down to one.
They were loud, giggly and a pleasure to listen to, as you could hear the love they had for each other, and for the baby.
Every evening Mrs. Giggle would tell the Midwife on duty what their sons name was, only to get a phone call from Mr. Giggle mere minutes later challenging the name they had picked, "What? No, we already agreed! Why don't you like that name anymore? But I...I just told the midwife! Fine, bring in a new list tomorrow!"
Roughly an hour later, every night without fail, the phone would ring again, and it would be her mother.
Evidently Mr. Giggle would call her mum every evening and tell her that they'd picked an old, bizarre sounding name for the baby. This would send the mother into hysterics as she hated the name, and she would swiftly call her daughter to demand an explanation. It quickly became clear that this was a prank Mr. Giggle enjoyed playing, and I'm fairly certain that all other patients in the ward, and any Midwives on duty at the time enjoyed listening too.
During my stay, Englebert, Archibald and Augustus were all names that left Mrs. Giggle defending herself, "Mum, no! No that's not what we are calling him. It's not! Don't listen to him, he's just trying to rile you up. No, I don't like the name either. Mum. Mum! I'm not lying!..I don't know why he would joke about that. He's trying to be funny. Yes, I know its not working..."
The next morning, Mr Giggle would arrive to playful hits and mock anger from Mrs. Giggle.
They would both laugh at how much mother had gotten herself worked up, then begin searching for a name all over again.

They also left a day before me. They left laughing, along with their son, Mason.
 (He finally got his name! I know this because all the Midwives cheered loudly along with Mr. and Mrs. Giggle when they announced it just before they left).

Bed 3 - Pills and Pokemon.

This was my bed.
It was free of baby cries, as my son was transferred to NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) within a few hours of entering the ward. I have a lot to write about my experience with having a baby in NICU, but I will save all of that for a separate entry.
My cubical was fairly quiet. Luke would visit me every day for as long as he could, I had a couple of visits from my housemate (she works next door to the hospital), and my Mum and Daddy came to see me too.
I spent my time reading Sookie Stackhouse novels, playing Pokemon on my 3DS, and going to see Little Love (I would be pushed in a wheelchair by my gorgeous man).

While Bed 1 had a never-ending line of people coming and going during visiting hours, I had never-ending visits from specialists, and hospital employees almost every hour of the day; Physiotherapist, Social Worker (checking how I was emotionally handling baby's stay in NICU), Pain Team Doctors, Anesthesiologist and of course OBGYN's and Midwives.
I know that I pushed the 'Call Midwife' button next to my bed so much during the first two days and nights, that they must have been sick of me.

My pain medication was increased during my stay, after one of the Pain Team Doctor's noticed how regularly I was taking Endone. I had (on top of Panadol and 10mg Oxycodone) been prescribed 2 Endone tablets every 2 hours if nessicary. Let me tell you, after pushing a baby through a separated pelvis, I felt that  it was 100% necessary!
Doc changed the dose of Oxycodone to 20mg twice daily, added 75mg of Lyrica* twice a day, 50mg of Diclofenac (Volarin tablet) 3 times daily, and 2 Panadol every 4 hours. This regime allows me to only use the Endone to act as a 'top-up' to the Oxy when I am extra sore, like after completing my physio exercises. Instead of upwards of 10 Endone tablets a day, I now take 4.  

Basically, the other patients in my ward were clearly aware that I was on a lot of medication, as OBGYN's and Midwives constantly kept coming into my cubical with more pills in little plastic cups.
That, coupled with the occasional Pokemon battle sounds from the 3DS, the conversations I kept having with the lunch lady about vampirism (thanks to the Stackhouse novels), and the muffled sounds of me crying to myself, the other Mummys must have thought me quite the fruitcake.

*Lyrica is an anticonvulsant traditionally used to treat epileptics. However, one of its other effects, is to act as a blocker for the pain receptors responsible for nerve pain.
It has all but stopped those sharp 'electric shock' type pains commonly associated with my injury.

Bed 4 - Vietnamese Please!

The lady in Bed 4 did not speak a word of English. Her husband was fluent in both Vietnamese and English though, and so would spend every available minute with her (this means 8am - 8pm, although the Midwives often allowed him to stay a little later, as he was so quiet you didn't even know he was there).
He would translate for both his Wife and the Midwives, clarifying feed times, and asking questions.
Thank goodness it was their 2nd baby - I cant imagine having to translate all the information you need when it's your first!.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly, their baby didn't cry very much, and having the husband there to translate made communication incredibly easy.

...Until her last day. For whatever reason hubby couldn't make it in, and this left Vietnamese Mummy on her own. It was also decreed by the comedy Gods, that the Midwife on duty for her last day was one of those fantastic people who think if they just speak louder and slower, everyone will understand.
On her last day it became common knowledge in our ward that she was express-feeding her baby.
She had been using a hospital breast pump up until now, and the Midwife was trying to explain to her where she could hire one of the same model from a different hospital (apparently only the other hospital hired out this particular model).
Now, whilst I couldn't physically see the conversation taking place, I could hear it clearly (as could the entire ward - guests and all), and since I had recently had my blood pressure checked by this Midwife, I knew how expressive she was, and how much she loved to use her hands and body when she talked.
Listening to this conversation was only made funnier by the little chuckles and snorts coming from all the other cubicles.
"You go to hospital. No-no to this hospital. Go far away. Go other far away hospital. Ask for pump. Yes. Yes want to hire like this pump for boob. Pump hire for boob. You go get hire pump from far away hospital for your boob."
The poor Vietnamese Mum stayed silent. She clearly had no idea what was going on, and a large white woman, using over the top body language (probably complete with squeezing her breasts to demonstrate pumping) and a patronizing booming voice was not helping.
Everyone listening could tell the Midwife meant well, but was A) not going to get anywhere, and B) was being more than a little condescending.
Just then, we all heard a miracle! A voice from the crowded Bed 1 cubical called out, "I can speak Vietnamese! Would you like my help?"
And so, the friend of Bed 1 Mummy went and translated all the information about breast pumps for Vietnamese Mummy. He must have felt a little awkward discussing breast pumps with a total stranger, but it was lovely to hear Vietnamese Mummy speak even though I couldn't understand her.
The conversation was a sandwich-like affair; 1 female and 1 male speaking fluent Vietnamese acting as bread, and a still-talking-like-you're-talking-to-a-toddler over zealous Midwife as the filling.

They must have worked everything out though, because she went home a day before me too.



I actually like building up an image of someone in my head, having not seen them.
This activity was vital in my hospital stay, as when I don't actively use my brain, I go a little crazy.

You should try it next time you're somewhere where you will have to wait a while; be it a doctors waiting room, a long train ride, or a hospital ward of your own.
What can you find out about your fellow patients/travellers just from listening to them?
What more can you add if you have the option to observe them- their body language, appearance etc?

What stories can you tell, when you give yourself a chance....