I had a moment last night as I lay in the hospital bed alone… an overwhelming feeling of empathy for all others fighting a battle on their own. To those who were there with me that same night in that same hospital perhaps also lying in an empty hospital room, staring up at the ceiling, wishing that procedures could be different so your significant other could be there with you, and simply wishing that whatever was happening to you - wasn’t. Wishing you could go home. Wishing you could be understood but knowing that no one else can fully understand exactly what you’re feeling at that time.
I hate crying in front of other people. I always have. I try really hard to manage my pain internally and keep it all inside. Last night that barrier broke for me, and though it was embarrassing for me to cry in front of the nurse assigned to me, it was relieving. She finally saw how I was truly feeling after five relentless hours. It was the moment when they finally let me go home.
I admitted myself into the hospital last night after experiencing intense cramping in my upper thighs and the underside of my belly. I had never felt that before during my entire pregnancy, and the pain wouldn’t let up even after a good hour and a half.
Yeah, I could’ve gone home and laid down and simply hoped for the best, but I didn’t want to be selfish. I knew I was experiencing some type of preterm labor pains. I’ve already been pregnant once before, so this wasn’t foreign to me.
My baby is also very fragile. She wouldn’t do well in labor which is why my doctors and I have a planned c-section for when delivery is near. I knew that something like this could put her in distress so I knew that not going to the hospital could put her at great risk, and I couldn’t accept that.
I went up to L&D at a time when they were already very busy, unfortunately. It took some time before I was admitted into a room. From there I was monitored for a good hour and a half before I was even checked on. My contractions at this time were one minute apart and not letting up. I was still having cramping. The TV wasn’t working in the room I was in. The bed was broken, and I couldn’t adjust the height. My phone was dying, and my poor husband was waiting outside in the parking lot (no guests unless you’re admitted past triage)
They suspected I was dehydrated, but I was also on an antibiotic for cystitis. Either one of these things could’ve been the cause for my contractions. After checking me, I wasn’t dilated at all. That was good news. They gave me a pill to help ease contractions. It didn’t work. I drank a liter of water - that didn’t help.
11 pm rolled around. My mother-in-law had been at my house all day watching my 18-month-old at home so I could attend all my doctor's appointments. My husband knew he would need to pick me up at some point, so it was simply a waiting game. Bless the hearts of my family during this time. I couldn’t do any of this without them.
I was sure that by 11 pm they would let me go home. I’d already been there for five hours. I hadn’t eaten dinner before and even after asking twice about it, they never brought me any sort of food. I understand they were busy, but this only added to my stress.
When the nurse came in at 11, I was sure she was going to release me. So, when I heard the words, “okay, we’re going to put you on an IV drip," I broke down. I just wanted to go home. Yeah, my contractions weren't letting up, but I have excessive contractions every day and I know that the only place I can truly relax and be comfortable is in my own bed at home.
I guess crying in front of a nurse is the way to get out of things because from there, I was discharged within fifteen minutes. Not saying I recommend doing this. But man was I so happy to leave.
Bless all the nurses for they have a lot to deal with. But us patients are also having to deal with heavy burdens as well. That nurse didn’t know that I had already been to the hospital two other times in the past two weeks, and that I was having 2-3 doctor's appointments every few days. They didn’t know that at every appointment, the fragile condition of my baby is shown to me over and over again. That I’m still trying to wrap my heart, soul, and mind around the fact that my baby girl is going to be special needs. That the parenting journey I had envisioned for myself when I was younger is so entirely different from it will be.
Of course, that’s okay. Yes, I will love my child no matter what. I will do all that I can for her. But I know that it will be a lifetime burden to bear, and I know that it won’t be easy. My daughter won’t be able to live the life I had always dreamed and hoped she would. She’ll be limited in her ways, and to what extent she’ll be able to succeed, I don’t even know. Only time will tell.
I just hope I can be the best mother that I can for her.
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