Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Greatest Joy or Worst Sorrow?

They told me that being a mother would be the greatest joy. I was foolish to believe them, I know that now. My pregnancy as normal as normal could be, no hiccups, no problems, the tests and ultrasounds revealed everything to be just as it should. What ever went wrong?

My water broke leaving work , thank god I was in the parking lot when it went, otherwise it would have been everywhere, either at work, or in my car. I managed to get in my car, drive home and call my husband. He immediately rushed home and grabbed my overnight bag. I had prepared and packed everything in preparation of this new little one.

My mother and I had oo’d and awed over each cute little onesie and outfit, the tiny socks, and small shoes.

The drive to the hospital went in a flash, not paying much attention except trying to remember if I had packed everything or if something was still forgotten.

We arrived and I was rushed into Labor and Delivery, setup on a hospital bed and hooked up to all sorts of fine machinery. I listed intently to the beep, beep, thud, thud, of the machines that registered my blood pressure and the baby’s heart beat. I was anxious to see my little prince, this creation my body had incubated so well for nine months. Hours seemed to drag by with a little pain here, and a little pain there.

Seven, eight, nine hours after leaving my cubicle at work I was still waiting for the hard labor to set in. The nurse gave me something to help kick start the contractions and I laid back and watched the mundane shows that always appear on hospital cable.

The pain started getting worse as another hour passed. Finally my contractions were to the point that the nurse called for the doctor.

“Are you excited?” He asked, while checking how far dilated I was.

“More in pain right now.” I answered through my gasping breaths.

“Give her the epidural now. You did say you wanted one right?” He looked to me.

“Yes!” followed by a whimper.

The process of the epidural was painful, but I’m not sure what was worse, the pain from the contractions or the large needle filling my back with the numbing solution. My body started to relax and I was once again grateful.

The contractions, still being felt but on a smaller scale began coming every minute and they knew it was the time we had all been waiting for.

“Push! Breath! Push again!” The doctor was telling me, “I can see his head!”

I continued to push until the little boy, my little boy was being placed on my belly. His beautiful head, his beautiful body, and his sweet cry filled my heart with joy that nothing can compare to. They measured and weighed, cleaned him up then handed him back to me.

I cradled his tiny body, my husband and I whispering sweet nothings to him, when it happened. He stopped breathing. Frantic, I yelled for a nurse. A whole crew came running in and by then there was nothing they could do. They tried and tried to bring him back, my poor baby boy, my prince, but no heart beat or breath they could find. Sobbing I looked at the doctor and the nurses, their heads bent in grief. Why was I only given one moment of joy to only have it ripped away and replaced with a sadness so deep.

The doctor whispered something to my husband and a nurse filled my IV with a liquid but didn’t tell me what it was. Now, my heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains my senses. I feel so tired, so tired and so hurt. What kind of God would do this to any mother? I feel so tired now…

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