Saturday, June 09, 2012

Three years ago

Three years ago I was already in hospital, BORED out of my mind. I'd been admitted a day earlier and was already just wishing it would all be over. I knew the induction lay ahead, and wasn't relishing the thought of being woken at midnight to start the process.

I was also terrified.

2 years before that I'd been this close to birth and then Zoe had died in utero, after labour had started.

I'd spent the entire pregnancy with Nathan trying so hard NOT to bond with my child, NOT to get attached to him, just in case I lost him too. I didn't think I could survive losing a second child. Yet, against my better judgement, in the third trimester, I'd realised that I couldn't help myself. I was already attached, both literally and figuratively. As my "dead baby thoughts" intensified, I fell more deeply in love with my baby.

So there I was, sitting in a hospital bed, bored, and desperate.

When I was finally woken at midnight, I knew the induction wasn't going to work - I don't respond to the gels; I only respond (and HOW!) to the injections/ drip. Eventually, at 5am, I was moved across, and given more drugs. By 10am, there was still nothing to report. I was tired (only having got to sleep around 10pm the night before! Hospitals are really noisy.) I was also starting to get worried. I slipped into the bath, to try and speed things up, and that's when these big clots (bigger than a R5 coin) starting pouring out.

TERROR!!!!

I jumped straight out again, the gynae was called, and we went into emergency mode.

After a further hour or so of hard labour (and it now being around noon), I was too tired to push any further. I was at the end of my strength, both physically and emotionally. I was terrified my child wasn't going to make it, and I just wanted to go to surgery and have a caesar.

At that point, I lifted my head, to tell my gynae that enough was enough and to just cut him out, when she grinned and said, "There's his head!" I looked down, and could see the crown of his head appearing. I knew then that the only way he was coming out was if I pushed - it was too late for surgery. So from somewhere deep inside (I still don't know how I did it), I pushed and pushed and pushed some more.

And then there he was - in all his nearly 4kg glory!

The relief at knowing he was safe, and alive, was so much, I basically just passed out on the bed. My job was done. I didn't care if he lacked fingers or toes, or if he was in any other way impaired. He was alive.

I then made Graeme swear to stay with him ALL the time - there'd been a recent spate of baby abductions from maternity wards and the last thing I needed was for my baby to be taken! - and then I really did fall asleep.

When it came to dedicate him to the Lord, my only prayer was that he would continue to bring joy into people's lives, and with that, healing, in the same way that his birth brought joy and healing into my life.

Bringing him into this world alive vindicated me in some way as a mother. I'd failed to do my job properly with Zoe - it's because of me that she died. I know that nothing I could have done could have saved her, because I didn't know about my APS then. Never the less, she's dead because of me. Yet, here I was, giving birth to another child, a living child. I'd overcome my disorder. I'd completed the circle.

And what joy! He was (and still is) a bruiser of a child. And given the amount of adrenaline floating in my blood while I was pregnant, how he turned out so joyful and calm (most of the time) is beyond me! He is a miracle.

As much as I love Janel (and how I love her!) Nathan is special to me in a way that she's not. I know that she is just as much a miracle, even more, because I wasn't on drugs through my pregnancy with her. Because I had to fight for Nathan though, he's got a special place in my heart.

Every day, as I was injecting myself, I would have to talk myself into it. It didn't get easier every day, as the gynae said it would. If anything, it got harder every day. Every day, I would have to tell myself that if I wanted Nathan to live, I had to do this. I had to stab that needle into my own flesh, and grit my teeth through the searing pain (I'm told an insulin injection is relatively painless). And every day I did. Every day I made the choice for him, in spite of what it meant for me. Every day I chose to do what was necessary so that he would live. It doesn't surprise me then, that he has such a special place in my heart.

Seeing him alive, every day, brings such joy into my heart. I thank God for him. Here's to the last 3 years with this very special little boy, who has brought me such love, and joy, and healing, and life. Happy 3rd birthday my precious baby! And here's to many more! May you grow to be all that God has planned for you to be, and to do.

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