I was grateful the hospital was right across the street. The air was crisp as it hit my face, from the stuffy heated medical building out into the bustling city street. My mind raced with thoughts, pleads, prayers to God. Why is this happening? Am I having my baby now? What will happen?
The phone call to CJ was shaky and panicked. He said he was on his way.
The emergency room was a chaotic jumble of ants scrambling to find their trail again. I began to shut down. I sank deeper and deeper into myself, thoughts racing, only submerging when asked a direct question by a nurse or doctor.
I don’t know how it all happened, but I found myself in ICU eventually with IV’s connected to me and a list of medical terms and medication names swirling around in my head. I glanced around me and was comforted to see my husband had arrived and was standing next to my mom and dad, who must have recently arrived too.
I was having contractions every five minutes, I could possibly have the baby, but they had me on Magnesium Sulfate and other such things to try and stop the contractions. I was not to get up for anything. I was leaking amniotic fluid and they didn’t know why. I had to use a bedpan if I need to relieve myself. Oh, and by the way, would I like dinner? an onrush of information flooded my brain, and I just lay there, stiff as a corpse, terror and shock filling every joint and marrow.
They left the room and CJ came over to comfort me, terrified as I was, but not showing it one bit. He asked me quietly if I was hungry. Surprisingly I was! They brought me something and we managed to find something remotely interesting on the TV. My parents reluctantly left, and things began to calm down. I finally began to relax and accept my fate. CJ tried to make everything feel as normal as possible, and began channel surfing, settling in for the night. He wasn’t leaving. They were bringing him a cot. I loved him more that day than ever.
“Hey, look, babe! Your favorite show, ER’s on!” And so we watched and tried to pretend everything was OK for the moment. The show always got me. I either ended up crying or angry in the end. All of a sudden a team of nurse and doctors rushed in – I was having contractions again and didn’t even know it! They worked on me, gave me a shot of Torbuteline, waiting for things to calm down, and left.
Little did I know, that would be the routine, essentially, for the next six weeks of our lives……………