April 28, 2010

"Mommy, are you still sad because we can't bring our baby home from the hospital?"



Wednesday.
I didn't sleep well. I woke up a lot throughout the night. I cried a lot, by myself. I wanted to wake Steve but felt it would be unfair. When the alarm went off at 6am, I felt like I was just having a quiet sleep. I didn't want to get up. I wrapped my arms around my belly and thought about what would happen if I just didn't get up at all. If I pretended that nothing bad had happened, would everything go back the way it was?
I got up...I knew that nothing could take back what had happened. I showered and made my son his breakfast. I got his clothes ready and took some time to check my email...I don't know why, it's strange how our usual daily routines can become so automatic.
I got my bag finished and Dayne's bag finished and I got dressed. When I woke up my son, he gave me a hug and asked "Mommy, are you still sad because we can't bring our baby home from the hospital?" Kids sometimes say things that hit you right in the gut.
We got him dropped off at my sister's house and were on our way to the hospital. I had forgotten to eat so when we stopped so Steve could get coffee I got a bagel. I don't remember eating that bagel.
We arrived at the hospital at 8am. We were taken to a room that was very nice...it was quiet, had a tv, two big comfy chairs, it's own bathroom, and of course the bed...the bed that I would be stuck in for a lot longer than I had expected.
I don't know the proper terms for everything that was done. I know that at 9:20am they inserted something that looked like a string, behind my cervix. This was supposed to get the ball rolling. I expected things to start happening, but instead, we sat there waiting. While we waited several nurses came in, a social worker, 2 doctors and someone representing the church in the hospital. They all looked to me with pity in their eyes, as if I would say something profound, but I had nothing to say. I wondered why everyone said they were sorry...what were THEY sorry for? I was the one that was sorry. Sorry that I had to go through this, sorry that I would never get to hold my kicking, giggling baby girl. Truly, they didn't understand the meaning of the word, sorry.
I had to wait 12 hours before they would do anything else. At 6pm my contractions finally started. They came every 10 minutes. The nurse asked if I wanted anything for the pain. I didn't. Contractions don't bother me...what was to come was what bothered me.
At 9:30pm, Steve commented that someone should be coming to do SOMETHING...no one came until after 10. They don't come when you want them to, they prefer to come when you want them to stay away.
They removed the weird little string that did nothing and instead inserted a pill. They said it would speed things up. Within 40 minutes my contractions were pretty much on top of each other. I decided at that time that I wanted the epidural. I was exhausted. My request was granted and I was able to get some sleep...it was not restful, it was not sound, it was the sleep that a person has when they have nothing else.
I slept then, until 4am on Thursday...when everything we'd been waiting all day and night for happened...We got to see our daughter...the most bittersweet moment of our lives.