The story continuted

Part 2

I woke up (I think it might be more accurate to say "got up", because I slept very little that night) at around 1:30 am on December 5th, took a shower, got ready and made sure my bag was packed. Jeff and I left the house around 2:30 am. Somehow it seemed "right", if there can be such a thing in this situation, to be driving in the middle of the night, in complete darkness, to go do the unimaginable. The only car on the road, driving past empty parking lots, empty stores lit up for for the holidays, and houses with people sleeping soundly. Just three days ago I had been one of those who slept soundly; then on a Monday morning, one moment changed my life. Fear and dread and confusion now crashed over me in waves. It felt like my heart and mind and spirit were stuck in the sand just off shore; every time we thought the waves were over, they crashed in again. It felt like slowly drowning, bit by bit.

The last time I went to the hospital in the middle of the night it was to deliver Caroline, so even though I was scared then, I was also joyful; I was prepared to go home with a baby in my arms. This time it was so different, so wrong. The fear was only tinged with anxiety and the dark knowledge that I would not be leaving this hospital with my baby this time. One line kept running through my head, "I am here to deliver my dead child." Harsh and horrible, I know, but true. As we walked into the hospital, I prayed that no one would ask how I was doing or whether we knew whether we were having a boy or a girl. Those good natured questions normally open a window of opportunity for people to share your joy; to us though they were questions I wasn't prepared to answer.

We were admitted to the hospital and they got me set up in room by about 3:15 or so. The nurses were wonderful, they got my IV started on the first try (with Caroline they had to call in the anesthetist to get my IV going after sticking me four times)! They gave me my first does of Cytotec (sp??), which is the drug they use to induce labor. By 4:00 am our pastor and his wife were there to pray with us (what a blessing - they are truly such servants. They slipped in and slipped out many times over the next 24 hours. They have such a gift of being supportive without being intrusive). My Dad was there by 6:30 and before I knew it it was time for the new shift for the nurses.

At 7:00 am We got another wonderful nurse who encouraged me and prayed for me throughout her time with us. Those first few hours were filled with anxiety, the nurses try to prepare you for what might happen, but every delivery is so different that all of the "ifs" and "mights" clouded my mind. All I could do was wait. Jeff did great, he encouraged me and talked to me, made sure everything was okay. It is hard to put words on the feelings I was having, the thoughts going through my head. I'm sure I wasn't thinking clearly or rationally as it was and to think on what my body was doing was enough to make me truly crazy in those early hours.

At one point about twelve hours into labor, I asked my nurse why didn't they just do a C-Section - the agony and waiting were really getting to me. I had taken a few doses of Cytotec, I was tired, and I was terrified about what might lie ahead. I won't try to quote what she told me, but she shared that she had been through the same thing years earlier and she prayed over me and asked God to grant me peace and endurance. He answered. Although the next fourteen hours weren't easy, they were filled with an odd peace that the first twelve had been missing.

That's probably long enough for one reading . . . too long perhaps, but I'll add Part 3 soon.

grace and peace.