It was a Wednesday, early November and I was done being in the hospital. I was done having an annoying IV in my arm. I was done being awaken every couple of hours. I was done writing down every sip of water I took and every visit to the little girl's room. I was done being cooped up in my little room. I was done preparing for a surgery that felt as it would never come. So I woke up November third around sixish am and awaited for the day to begin. I must confess I felt like a prisoner and wanted out. I woke up had my vitals checked (which had just happened two hours before) and had my finger pricked yet again to check my blood sugar. Praying that it would be normal range. I wasn't allowed to eat so if it was "too low" I would have to await an IV solution of sugar water because I had to be "stable" to travel down the hall to my morning ritual of an ultra sound. And if it was too high I got to be poked again with a needle ( I hate shots and was SO tired of feeling like a pin cushion) for insulin. But it was within the okay range. YAY. I then slid into my tweety bird slippers to take the three steps to where I would be weighed. So much fun! And then back to bed after a quick run to the little girl's room. Once back in bed I was in the time window to order my breakfast that could come within ten minutes up to two hours. I had to order then as I did not know when transport would come to pick me up nor when I would return and there was only a limited amount of time when orders were accepted. And then I just wait...and wait...Yay the wheelchair has arrived. Let's hit the halls. And away we go. As I did not have a true appointment I would be wheeled into the back entrance and left to sit and wait until the technician was available. There is this paranoid feeling that no one would see me and I would be forgotten. (Twice I waited for over ten minutes in the back lobby by myself. So I feel this was a justified feeling.) Now my description of this morning sounds bitter, because I was. I was hungry, exhausted, worried, frustrated, and felt trapped. My world was upside down in chaos and I did not have permission to correct it. Nothing felt as if it was in my control. My hubby and I had thought through his schedule and he had taken off three days in a row based on our conversations with our doctors upon our son's arrival. This was my first morning by myself after that nice stretch of having someone else "experience" this journey and it is a lot easier to handle as a team. Then being the character who must travel alone. I was wheeled back for my daily ultrasound and while gritting tears in my frustrated state I climbed upon the table to begin our morning ritual. They pour gel, cover me with a sheet, make small chat, push around wand on my tummy, and they say everything looks good or at least about the same as yesterday, Couple of pictures, will call transport, and the doctor will be in shortly to see you. Yadda yadda yadda. About a twelve minute drill. Ten minutes in we aren't really making small talk as that has faded. Actually the technician is squinting at her screen. She then asks me to flip all around the table (side, back, jiggle, other side, back) and she begins to wrinkle her brow and purse her lips muttering that my son still had a little more to show to "pass his daily test". Every other morning he had shown what they needed within five minutes. My frustration washed away as that cold drop of fear begins to travel through the veins. That my threatening tears spilled over and down my face. As I offered prayers of surrender and apology for working myself into an agitated state and begged to God Please just keep my son healthy. After thirty minutes of trying to catch my son's movements and breathing. I was whisked to a new room for what the called a non-stress test. The wrap a belly band around my stomach to measure my son's heartbeats and output of rhythms . The technician said the beeps were good. I didn't hear any. All sounds had drained away accept my own heartbeat in my ears and the wailing scream this isn't happening and the rushing whoosh of reassurance this is just precautions everything will be okay. For ten minutes those two thoughts swirled around my mind and followed up with I want my hubby. They then took my blood pressure and it was rising quickly and steadily from my morning checks. The technicians then moved me into another room. I still did not know what was going on. The doctor then came to see me. I liked this doctor he stopped the middle of the night blood sugar check/crashes. He reported that my 24 hour urine test from the day before showed a 250% increase of protein which wasn't good as I started at an already high level. My blood pressure numbers were continuing to rise. And my son was starting to show slight distress. He then said my surgery would be scheduled for early afternoon as soon as the doctor gets out of the delivery she is already handling. I stopped him and asked him to clarify, was I having my baby today? He nodded and responded that it was time. My womb was no longer considered the best place for my son to grow, flourish, and thrive. I was only twenty-nine weeks and my son's odds were viewed better in the world than what I could provide. The doctor stepped out and I called my husband. I went to the numb place and tried to not panic. My husband was caught off guard every day we had been prepped and prepared for this news. But you can only hear the same thing over and over so many times until you become a little indifferent. We knew the risks but felt it was only a mantra at this point as we had repeated this journey seven times over. But no fire drill, today was the real deal, the full boogie woogie. I was wheeled to my room and put immediately to bed as I waved good-bye to the breakfast I would never get to taste. I was strapped to the monitor to hear my son's strong healthy heartbeat. Probably to world's most reassuring sound especially that morning. I then was wisked to prepare for surgery. Surgery? Still seemed so foreign as the roughest procedures I had endured included shots and throat cultures. I was wrapped in bracelets, hooked up to medicines, and watched my family parade in and out the door. I wasn't scared. Iwasn't even nervous. Peaceful and numb (possibly the drugs, most likely the prayers). They wheeled me away after a final word and wave and wishes of good luck. Once again I was on my own. My husband had to wait until I was "ready". He stood in his house painter overall scrubs and prepared for the unknown. The team inflated my raft so I could move from one gurney to the operating table (brilliant invention and though it might be used for everyone it helps this heavy person feel supported and not abandoned) and helps ease everyone in this adrenaline high moment. The epidural was applied and we played announce where you feel the prickly. And then all of a sudden the room spun, I announced that it was spinning and all of sudden fell back. My blood pressure had been so high that it began to crash (the doctors had prepared me for this possibility). But do you know how weird it is to feel like you're falling when you are already lying down. Oxygen was whisked to my face and I had to struggle to keep conversation with the nurse. The team got me stable and then they sent for my hubby. I agreed that's a good idea as we need to get this puppy started. The team laughed and informed me that they had already started. Seriously? I could feel tugs at my stomach but felt it was like bandages or blankets being swirled around above me. My husband comes into the room panting as he was told to hurry and had ran the whole way. He might have been in the room for two minutes when we both heard it. The cry of a baby. Not any baby. Our son, it was official , we were parents. And though the cries sounded so far away it was the most beautiful clear sound in all the world. Our son already had doctors and nurses attending to him knowing he was born extremely premature. He came out hand first (yes you read that correctly) weighing 3 lbs. 11 oz. and 17 inches long . Gorgeous, head full of hair, and healthy. Praise God! I caught a glimpse as they wheeled him away to be attended to and they continued to put this Humpty Dumpty back together again. I had a horrible cough but was terrified of the repercussions. I announced my need to cough and sure enough a drill sergeant of a nurse told me to swallow it. Yes ma'am. No problem. The doctor finally gave me permission. My son was admitted to the NICU and was released after forty-four days. We both came out healthier than expected. I healed fairly well and quickly. My son conquered milestones left and right. I came face to face with a nightmare but was surprised by the results. Getting healthy means even more to me now. I was blessed with such gifts, a healthy son and the chance to see him grow but that means I need to once again embrace the HealthFULL Journey. So once again I seek out the trail that will help me to embrace my life FULLy and share it with those I am blessed to have in my life. It is time to re-evaluate goals, actions, the stepping stones, and how combined they all equal results. I invite you to Fully Understand Life by Living. I have only started this journey but let me tell you it will rock your world and everything you knew. But the view is amazing. Please join me in your own HealthFULL Journey. 'Til we meet again . . .
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