The Days of an Intern - Obstetrics and Gynecology Reflections

I stood in the delivery room, cupping the bloody placenta in my hands. The exhausted pregnant woman lay on the table, and the newborn's cries still lingered incessantly in my ears... The clock was pointing to past four in the morning, preparing to welcome the dawn.

Days like this became the norm after arriving at Obstetrics and Gynecology, from the initial frantic scrambling when taking in patients to eventually becoming accustomed to it. Fingers sliding across strings of prenatal check-up histories, the expectant mother and her husband looking at each other by the bedside, the husband gently stroking his wife's hair; every simple examination record represents how many days of worry and anticipation. The ten-month marathon of pregnancy is about to reach the finish line, yet it is also the starting point of another string of worries. The heartbeat from the fetal monitor forcefully announces the impending arrival—urgent and rapid, it adds a great deal of tension.

The longing to sleep peacefully until dawn always conflicts with the sense of responsibility of being on call. Counting the Bishop Score on the delivery room whiteboard, struggling to pray for just a little more sleep tonight. But once the bell rings, announcing a natural delivery or an emergency cesarean section, I still spring up quickly, change into scrubs, prepare my mask, shoe covers, and surgical cap, and dash out.

Although an Intern's role in the operating or delivery room is minuscule, every birthing process always infects me with the room's urgency. The moment the fetal head emerges, the safety suction bulb is swiftly inserted into the baby's mouth and nose to suction away the amniotic fluid, deeply fearing that even the slightest delay might affect the baby's breathing. Perhaps, after bearing the expectant mother's worries and trust, this is the only thing I can truly give my all to.

After the baby is just born and cries out loudly, the attending physician and I sew up the postpartum lacerations under the drape, fresh blood mingling with the needle and thread. But the mother begins humming a light, soft lullaby, the baby nestled against her chest. In that moment, a heavenly sound brings peace to the night.