Titus 2'sday: On eating lunch

In honor of the day I went into labor one year ago, Sweet Pea decided to give me another scare by climbing out of her crib on her own this morning.  I woke from a dream in which Sweet Pea was talking to me to a loud "thunk!" and crying.  I think in reality I was actually hearing her talk on the monitor for awhile, but my mind worked it into the dream.  I guess she got impatient with me and decided to take matters into her own hands.

She was perfectly fine, amazingly.  She was crying, but stopped the second I picked her up.  She seemed unhurt and unfazed.  That's pretty typical of her, though, from all the way back to when she was in my tummy.  I will never forget the peace that washed over me after a horrible morning when, at about 12 weeks, I thought I was having a miscarriage because my body was so stressed and dehydrated that I started having intense contractions (or possibly the first gall bladder attack) and we saw her on the sonogram screen floating around and looking as happy as a fetus can look.  No matter what my body threw at us and I panicked, she remained as calm and chill as can be.

It's just how she rolls, I guess.

(Unless, of course, you try to separate her from her mama.  But that's another story.)

This morning, one year ago, I was in the car on the way to the hospital with my husband.  Tears were in my eyes, fear was in my chest, prayers were in my heart and peace was in my heart of hearts as we drove and I texted my near and dears to let them know I was being induced four weeks early.  I had been miserable all weekend; hot, tired, crampy, dizzy and plagued by an intense, nerve-deep itch that would not be soothed.

I had been up most of the night, nervous because I knew something was wrong and I just needed to constantly feel the baby move.  At 6:30 am I got up and packed a hospital back; again, I just knew.  I called my doctor and left a message, forced my husband out the door to work (promising him that "everything is fine; I just packed the bag because I couldn't sleep!) and laid back down to wait for the doctor to call.  Call they finally did, and told me to come in immediately.

I sat in that waiting room for nearly 45 minutes, watching two doctors and a receptionist look at my charts, make phone calls, and whisper with my name.  Finally, I was called back in the room.  My doctor breezed in and with somewhat forced merriment announced, "You're going to have this baby today!"

What?

I mean, I knew.  I knew something was wrong, but I still had it in my head that I was probably going to be on bed rest for the next month.  Baby?  Today?  But...the nursery isn't finished.  We don't have a crib.  We haven't hung the shelves.  I haven't ordered that hat I wanted for her.  Today?  Seriously, have you SEEN our nursery?

Is my baby going to be ok?

Tears filled my eyes, but I wanted to be big and brave.  My liver values were out of control, dangerously high for the baby.  They had to induce labor.  I was told to go home, pack a bag and go straight to the hospital.  I called my husband, called my mom and burst into tears, then called a few friends.  I probably should have had a police escort going home; that was not a safe drive!)

My husband met me at the house and we just hugged for a few minutes, then I went around in a daze gathering whatever I might need.

Then I sat down and ate a sandwich, or as least as much of it as I could force down my dry mouth.

That was the smartest thing I did all day.

I knew God was in control of this baby.  I knew panic could not help this situation.  I knew I had good doctors.  I knew I needed strength, both spiritually and physically.  Those few moments helped me settle my heart, my mind and my body.  They helped me return for just a moment to normalcy.

(Also, I don't know how I would have had the physical strength to deliver a baby without those few calories.  The baby came way, way faster than they had anticipated and they didn't let me eat anything after 5, and all I ate then was a baked potato.  Ladies, EAT before you go to deliver your baby!)  

That spot where I sat has since been replaced by a highchair, and my precious girl sits there every day and we eat together.  It is the place in the house with the brightest light, and it's warm and cozy.  It's a place of peace and togetherness.

How has it been a year already?

  

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