The Day Our Daughter Was Born in Mexico City
Matt and I travel and often transition around the world as journalists, not truly having a home to return to. When we found out we were having Miya, we didn’t necessarily want to settle just yet. For us, a suburban neighbourhood in Canada in the middle of winter just didn’t make sense. I knew I would combust. So, to ensure she had a happy upbringing, we also had to ensure we were mentally stable – in a place where we could raise her and still explore creative pursuits.
One of the places we fell in love with during our relationship together was Mexico. We lived, worked, and travelled extensively throughout the country during the pandemic and, at times, considered it like home. In her last month in the womb, we took a leap, a short flight from Vancouver, and moved to Mexico City. Miya could receive three citizenships, and we would be in a place that we loved and could potentially work on some journalism assignments.
We found our Obgyn – Dra. Lara— through a referral from one of Matt’s friends, Sebastian— a French ex-pat based in Mexico City. Funnily enough, this was a friend he met through one of his “sit-on-the-toilet for an hour” obsessions - Evony, an online multiplayer game. They never met in person until this year, but as soon as we relocated to Mexico City, he became our go-to resource for help. Admittedly, when we arrived in Mexico City and were starting to feel more anxious, the referral, guidance, and friendly face helped.
Our doctor’s hospital – Medica Sur -- was recently featured on Newsweek’s World’s Best Hospitals list. Truthfully, the resources and care level felt on par with any hospital experience I have had back at home – albeit I know psych and maternity wards are pretty different in atmosphere. Medica Sur is known for medical tourism. Americans will come for surgeries that cost a fraction of what they might pay at home. As such, the hospital grounds feel a bit like a resort. There is even a hotel on-ground.
With private hospital care, there is no waitlist to find an Obgyn or schedule an appointment, at least for the high end of the spectrum. You can “shop” for doctors because of the ease of appointment scheduling, and they handle all their fees privately. Most doctors in high-end private hospitals also speak English. We paid $4,300 for a natural birth, including our 2-night hospital stay, doctor’s salaries, birth certificate, blood and hearing tests, vaccines, and prenatal appointments.
Once we settled on our doctor, he was the only doctor I saw until my delivery. Because of private care and client-practice building, doctors in Mexico are very attentive. Patients have direct access to their doctor pre-and post-birth. Dra. Lara answered WhatsApp messages and insisted we could message any time of the day with concerns. Even a month later, we were still messaging him occasionally with questions, most recently about pregnancy-related hemorrhoids. I spent one painful morning in the bathroom for two hours – the first and hopefully last time I have hemorrhoids.
Miya arrived 11 days early. She was scheduled for around August 30 but came on August 19 at 2:09 pm. We didn’t even really realize my contractions were the contractions. The night before, we made homemade dumplings, watched Extraordinary Attorney Woo, and went to bed early. I remember I was completely relaxed. Despite problematic nights with mosquitos and obnoxious Mexican men singing karaoke upstairs until 4 am on a weekday, the night before Miya was born, I remember having a perfect sleep.
I woke up around 8 am, still at peace. But a short while later, I started experiencing a burning desire to unload the dumplings from the night before. Every time I went to the bathroom, though, nothing came. I assumed I was constipated, but Matt suspected otherwise because the cramps came in bursts and weren’t particularly painful. I would occasionally lean over a chair for support, and then the cramp would disappear. Around 9:25 am, Matt started to record the frequency of these bursts. I had a work call around 10 am, and I remember biting my tongue as my insides would burn for a few minutes every eight to 10 minutes. Matt recorded every bit of the fire - 9:54, 10:09, 10:16, 10:24, 10:36, 10:46, 10:59.
Matt messaged his parents, who thought I was either in false or actual labour. We messaged Dra. Lara and he suggested coming in. I remember staring at Matt and feeling slightly scared – was this it? After speaking to friends who had their baby recently with several false labours, we thought it had to be nothing, but we could never be sure. We debated bringing the bag I had packed – thank goodness, since she was 11 days early - and grabbed it at the last moment since the hospital was 30 minutes away.
I remember phasing in and out of the Uber ride and clutching Matt’s hands. I felt sweaty, and the fiery cramps increased. Everything started to feel real.
We arrived just before noon and, to our shock, found out I was eight centimetres dilated. Dra. Lara’s eyes glistened a little like Santa's as he told us I was ocho centímetros deep. He said Felicidades – congratulations – before almost shooing us out with urgency to the next building to prepare for the delivery. Matt and I were like lost sheep for a few minutes in his office. I think we were too much in shock. I do remember, though, the last thing I said to him was an emphatic “sí, por fa” [yes, please] when he asked if I wanted an epidural.
Dra. Lara assembled his team at a whim – the anaesthesiologist, the supporting ob-gyn, the pediatrician, and the nursing staff. I gave birth a bit over two hours later.
My pain was managed. The worst pain I experienced was right before the epidural was injected. I remember coiling into a fetal position on the bed, feeling lots of cold sweat, and phasing in and out of attentive consciousness. Despite being eight centimetres dilated, the anesthesiologist injected the epidural in what felt like the last possible second. I didn’t feel much pain during the birthing process, but the medicine numbed the entire lower half of my body. When numerous people told me to push, I imagined I was moving walls, but I barely moved anything. I screamed like an idiot, and Miya didn’t move an inch. Matt and the anesthesiologist had to lift my entire body forward to help me push the baby out.
I remember when Miya’s head and body came out. It was a moment of relief physically – I felt like I had taken the most glorious crap of my life.
Admittedly, many moments felt like a blur, but I will never forget when I first looked into her wide, intense little eyes for the first time. It was surreal – an all-consuming, powerful rush of emotions. For a brief second, I thought she had Matt’s beautiful blue-grey eyes, but I was seeing tints of green. She has -- beautiful, still – hazel-olive eyes.
I remember Matt next to me and us just staring at each other with tears in our eyes as this precious little human – the little human who kicked energetically in my stomach every day -- was breathing next to us, staring at us. I was in love. Matt was in love. Images flashed through my mind as I stared at her – the moment when Matt and I picked her name in under ten minutes in a hotel, the moments when I found out she existed in my womb in Sri Lanka, the pregnancy test in Italy, the house on the hill in Greece where she was conceived.
It’s hard to describe everything, but I felt like I was in a moving vortex of complete jubilation. Then, she was swooped away.
Back at home, hospital care in Canada and the US is focused on mother-child bond-building. Hospitals encourage skin-to-skin contact, and moms can keep a baby for as long as she wants. In Mexico, Miya was placed on me for a few minutes, then whisked away for monitoring and tests.
I was taken to a recovery room with a heated bed, where I fell asleep for two hours. At some point, I woke up in a sweaty panic because I had no significant time with my baby, and I had no idea where Matt was despite asking for him repeatedly in my pathetic Spanish – Quiero mi esposo!!!! For some reason, that resulted in me receiving more blankets and water.
I worried I was missing the “golden hours” that would help with connecting with Miya and building a bond for breastfeeding. Social media and baby classes psych you up in the worst way for breastfeeding. I was sure that if I didn’t latch her onto my breast in the next five minutes, that would be it.
After more frustration, blankets and water, Matt finally entered my room. I burst into tears again when I saw him because I felt so utterly alone. I never wanted love and consoling so much – at that moment, part of me fell into a child state, and I wished my dad or some parent was there. But Matt hugged me, and I immediately felt better.
I still hadn’t seen Miya for hours and was worried about her despite Matt reassuring me that she was okay. I was desperate to figure out how she was and whether we would bond. They brought her over shortly after, and luckily for us – the love affair between mother and child continued. Miya still wanted me. Breastfeeding has not been much of an issue, but the seconds and minutes waiting for her to be in my arms were all-consuming torture.
And it turned into a process to even be with her. Security is high in Mexican hospitals. Matt and I were not sure, but we suspect there might have been kidnappings in the past. Between her visits to the neonatal ward and pediatrician, Miya had to be escorted by two nurses and a federal police officer, and we had to sign off on legal paperwork matching our electronic ID bracelets.
There were protocols for everything. Whenever I needed to go to the bathroom, I had to buzz the nurse. The bed was weighted with a security trigger so that if I left the bedside, the nurse would be in the room immediately, worried that I had somehow fallen over. In some ways, it did feel soothing to be so taken care of. I have heard back at home that sometimes there are not enough nurses to support a particular ward. But I also felt it unnecessary to have several Mexican nurses watching me on the toilet. We ended up staying at the hospital for two nights, and I left the hospital feeling relaxed and with the pain under control. Right now, we are a few months in and settled.
It is indeed an adjustment to live in Mexico City, this time not as two nomads but as parents to a newborn. Miya’s birth was somewhat erratic, probably spontaneous to the average parent, but meaningful, humorous, and breathtaking to us. We are grateful for the experience, and we would not trade our decision for anything else.
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