....a year ago today, continued....
...."She said what?" I stood in the kitchen, nearly doubled over with pain. Ken hung up the phone. "The nurse said to go straight to the hospital. Let's go." Ken grabbed my bags and we went outside. I was numb with disbelief. Was this it? No, probably not. Probably a false alarm. Everybody has at least one of those, right? I didn't even care that my hair was in a messy ponytail, that I was wearing the same sweatsuit I had on the day before, and that my makeup (what was left of it) was smudged and smeared. After all, I can jump into the shower when I get back home.
I thought my preconceived notions were confirmed as I laid on the exam table an hour later, belts of monitors strapped all over my abdomen, all eyes watching the screen showing my contraction rates. Nurses and doctors swept in and out, watching, waiting. Dr. Hearn came in an introduced himself (no, I'd never met him before!) and began to watch the peaks and dips on the screen, too. He stood up. "Well, I say you should go walk the halls for an hour or two. Looks like we need more of a solid, regular pattern before we admit you." My heart sank, but at the same time, I sighed with relief. I could go home and compose myself. This wasn't really it....at least not for the next few hours. I had time to prepare a little bit more.
I did not foresee a sudden shift in the doctor's facial expressions as he realized that our baby's heartrate was dipping.....too low for safety. I did not foresee being pricked, prodded, jerked, shoved, and prepped for emergency surgery. I realized I didn't have our camera with us. I realized Mom wasn't here yet. I realized....oh, gosh....I was about to have major surgery.
"Just get the baby out....I want him safe." I said it before I knew I had said it. It was true....all that mattered was him. Not me, him. I wanted him to be okay.
Three and a half hours later, I sat blissfully in my hospital bed, glowing and gleaming a smile. I was holding a tiny, tiny baby....our son....just hours old. I was happy. I was sad. I was relieved. I was scared. I was exhausted. I was every emotion rolled all up into one. I was a mom.
...."She said what?" I stood in the kitchen, nearly doubled over with pain. Ken hung up the phone. "The nurse said to go straight to the hospital. Let's go." Ken grabbed my bags and we went outside. I was numb with disbelief. Was this it? No, probably not. Probably a false alarm. Everybody has at least one of those, right? I didn't even care that my hair was in a messy ponytail, that I was wearing the same sweatsuit I had on the day before, and that my makeup (what was left of it) was smudged and smeared. After all, I can jump into the shower when I get back home.
I thought my preconceived notions were confirmed as I laid on the exam table an hour later, belts of monitors strapped all over my abdomen, all eyes watching the screen showing my contraction rates. Nurses and doctors swept in and out, watching, waiting. Dr. Hearn came in an introduced himself (no, I'd never met him before!) and began to watch the peaks and dips on the screen, too. He stood up. "Well, I say you should go walk the halls for an hour or two. Looks like we need more of a solid, regular pattern before we admit you." My heart sank, but at the same time, I sighed with relief. I could go home and compose myself. This wasn't really it....at least not for the next few hours. I had time to prepare a little bit more.
I did not foresee a sudden shift in the doctor's facial expressions as he realized that our baby's heartrate was dipping.....too low for safety. I did not foresee being pricked, prodded, jerked, shoved, and prepped for emergency surgery. I realized I didn't have our camera with us. I realized Mom wasn't here yet. I realized....oh, gosh....I was about to have major surgery.
"Just get the baby out....I want him safe." I said it before I knew I had said it. It was true....all that mattered was him. Not me, him. I wanted him to be okay.
Three and a half hours later, I sat blissfully in my hospital bed, glowing and gleaming a smile. I was holding a tiny, tiny baby....our son....just hours old. I was happy. I was sad. I was relieved. I was scared. I was exhausted. I was every emotion rolled all up into one. I was a mom.
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