When I saw that car crossing the median on the freeway, it didn’t quite register. My heart started thumping but I wasn’t actually scared until we’d been knocked into the median. I remember thinking, “Oh God, I’m, never going to get married.” But I wasn’t actually Afraid. I was worried, but not in a state of panic.
When I heard from the other end of the line, “Your dad is dead,” I dropped to my knees and lost full composure. There was nothing else to think about except that he was gone. I wasn’t afraid, I was heartbroken.
When I heard these words out of the doctor’s mouth, “He has a large pneumonia in his lung.” My heart sank. He wasn’t even two yet. I was scared out of my mind, but I did my best to hold myself together. I had great support there with me, people who tried to take the burden away as much as possible. But I was scared out of my mind, honestly. That was my baby. And I couldn’t fix it with a Mommy Kiss. All I could do was sit there next to him in the hospital and wait for him to get better. I read to him, played movies on my laptop, talked to him, played as much as he was allowed, tickled his skin to help him fall asleep, and tried my best not to let him see me cry. I never left the hospital as long as he was in there.
This time, I’m lost. I’ve been having pre-term contractions for over a week now, and I am barely five and a half months along. 22 weeks. And my cervix is extremely soft. It’s way too early for this wee one to meet the world. Way too early! I’m completely at a loss for what to do.
The doctor gave me meds to help stop the contractions. I still feel them. And it scares the hell out of me.
First of all, we live in a SMALL town 3 hours north of where my doctor is in Vegas. We basically have a band-aid store here. They’re not qualified for labor, let alone premature labor!
Second, I have limited friends here and no family. All my friends work during the day also, as does my husband.
Third, I have a two- and three-year-old to take care of. Very busy monkeys they are!
So before God and everyone, I take back all complaints I’ve had about being pregnant. I take back everything I said about not enjoying it. I didn’t mean that I wanted the baby gone. I want her, very much. Alive, FULL-TERM, and healthy. I want her to stay in there as long as she needs to. I do not want this pregnancy to end early by any means just because I have been utterly miserable. I can take it. I’m strong. I’m able. She’s NOT! Give me the pain, but let her be. Let her grow like she’s supposed to and become a healthy girl who is going to keep me up every night.
So now, I am relaxing. On the couch watching movies with the kids. Listening to them making messes. Watching them jump on the furniture. I’m trying to relax. To not clean where it needs it. To not do anything. I have just over 4 months to go still, and by golly I will lay here until she is grown and healthy enough to come out. I will take these meds to lessen the contractions. And I will stop bitching about being fat. I will do whatever it takes to keep her in there.
Next week I go get my cervix measured and find out for sure if this IS indeed a girl! And I believe from here on out I will see the doc more frequently.
No more complaining!