Wednesday, June 28, 2017

Waiting...

Me, approximately when I went on bedrest
Ten years ago I felt some funny pains in my belly (that's a nice way of saying I felt it in all the pregnant woman parts).  My husband was out that night, playing poker, and I was watching the Mets, who were having a good year.  Just the day before I had posted on Facebook that I was looking forward to going to PA to see my parents and swim in their pool.  For any twinmoms out there, you can imagine how nice pool floating would be with a 30 week twin belly.

I ignored the first round of cramping, chalking it up to something I ate, and turned over to the other side of the couch.  A few minutes later, the second round came.  I called my husband.  He told me to call the doctor if it happened again.  A few minutes later, I was on the phone with my doctor, who told me to "GET TO THE HOSPITAL!"  I heard the all-caps in her voice.

My husband was over an hour away, and my neighbors were not answering their phone.  Always determined, I found my car keys, and waddled to the car - a standard transmission.  I wasn't sure if I could actually drive to the hospital, but since Uber hadn't been invented yet, I had only one choice...

Thankfully, my neighbors pulled into their driveway just as I reached my car parked on the curb.  They rushed me to the ER, and the nurses took me to the maternity ward, where for hours I lay on my back, an incredibly uncomfortable position for a rather pregnant twinmom.

Diagnosis - pre-term labor.

Remedy - shots to develop the babies lungs and BEDREST!

I spent the rest of that very hot pre-Netflix summer in my bed and on my couch, watching a great run by the Mets and a ton of Gilmore Girls and Dr. Phil.  I waited, anxious and bored.  I was waiting for my pain to be over.  I was waiting for a hopefully healthy birth.  I was waiting to start the next phase of life. A woman who had run, run, run all her life was suddenly sidelined.

It was, perhaps, the most humbling experience of my life, and I know it transformed me - as well as my husband who changed from a work-focused professional into a father who changed diapers, starting at day 1.  By taking care of me, he understood what it meant to put someone else first.  By allowing him (and others) to take care of me, I learned to ask for help when I needed it.

Today while I think back a decade, I am waiting for my kids to come home from camp.  Just like then, I yearn to see them and to hold them.  Fortunately today I can walk in the sunshine, watch my Netflix, and know that they are healthy and happy kiddos.  I'm not anxious - I know that this time away is good for all of us - and I'm not bored.  I'm just waiting, which is a good thing, both then and now.

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