July 29 Cont’d…
6:30am
I get up, feeling hung over and fuzzy… I take a shower to try to clear my head. If all goes well, 24 hours from now, you will be here with us, I pray. I recheck my suitcase. I go to your bedroom, check out your crib, blankets, bumper pad, mobile all set up and ready. Then I go to change table/wardrobe and baby supplies and vow that the next time I walked though this door, God willing, you would be in my arms.
7:00am
We left for the hospital, stepping outside to a blue sky and blindingly bright sun shine, me in a blur of fatigue, your father reassuringly positive. However, he has just started his own business so will spend very little time with me once I am checked in. I will be deserted, alone, no one to rant at or to get me ice chips. Stiff upper lip, don’t you know. Dr. D. says women born with Scottish and Vietnamese blood are his toughest mothers, who never voice complaints during the delivery process. Let us trust my Scottish blood will live up to its’ reputation. I place my hands on my swollen belly, drawing comfort from your movement. Are you aware, by hook or by crook, that you will be born today, Baby, I ask you silently?
7:30am
Right on the dot, as specified by the Medical Team, your Dad and I are in the Waiting Room , ready, willing and able for the first available room. Not only is it Dr.OB/GYN’s day in Labour & Delivery but Dr. D. does ½ days in Emergency every Thursday so they will both be there to push and cheer us on, novices that we are.
8:10am
I am given a room that could only fit one Preggie lady, a slender nurse and 2 skinny doctors-in-training. Hm, both of my actual doctors have girth, gained from years of good living. Guess only one of them can come in at a time.
Dr. OB/GYN comes in and told me my hormone level has plummeted, you have lost more weight and no one knows why you did not grow in utero so the medical world believes the best plan of action is to avoid putting you through the stress of labour. Instead they are seeking permission to schedule a Caesarean Delivery. I had no problem with surgery, it is just that the last time I was put to sleep, there was problems waking me up. I mention it again to Dr. D. who flaps his hand at me dismissively as if to say, “Everyone has problem with anesthetic”… (proved to be wrong call on his part)….
So I decide “enough said”, I am the last person wanting to be labelled a “hypochondriac”… once we are alone I whisper to you… “Help is on its way Baby. Hang in there!”