Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Why the Break?

I want to let you know why there's a long break in my blog posts, especially in that I started this to be open about my pregnancy.

Well, for as it got closer to the time in Wombat's pregnancy when I lost Moose, I distanced myself from the fact I was pregnant. This doesn't mean that I was doing things that a pregnant woman shouldn't do; it just means that I didn't talk about it. I tried not to think about the baby I was carrying and I certainly couldn't write about it. My desire to meet this baby was so great that the only way for me to deal with pregnancy was to not recognize my need to have a living baby. Not to acknowledge how much my heart was hurting. Add on top of that the agony of a pregnancy for any pregnant woman (we all get emotional and cry pretty easy or is that just me?)

Every week, I went in for my ultrasound and twice a week I went for a non-stress test or electronic fetal monitoring. Wombat consistently measured perfectly at every appointment, but it didn't help. I was scared.

Then, something my husband and I didn't see coming happened. It was week 34 in Wombat's pregnancy. We had birth class that night, but I wasn't feeling well and neither was my husband, so I called in sick. When I got home, my husband was feeling even worse, so I cooked dinner. At first, I thought it was an allergic reaction to the prescription meds to help with his poison ivy because aspirin wasn't helping. When he said he wanted to go to the hospital, I thought he was overreacting, yet we went anyway.

He checked in. Told the clerk he was having chest pains. We went back within 10 minutes of getting there. I was more concerned with getting my pregnant self food than him.

Yes, you read that right. I wasn't worried about him simply because he's always healthy. He wasn't.

Blood was drawn, blood pressure taken, the nines. The doctor came in, relaxed and calm. He said that there were five and a half things which he was worried about; the half being the least likely. If it wasn't one of those, we'd go home and meet with a cardiologist another day. They rolled in an EKG, then a giant machine, which we turned down because my husband thought it was overboard. It wasn't.

Well, it was that half thing. The least likely thing. My thirty-something husband had a heart attack. Nitro pills, admission to the hospital, my husband getting pain meds, and "oh, this is the least likely thing to happen, but just in case..." Every time they said least likely, it's what happened. We were transferred to a larger hospital.

My husband in an ambulance, me following behind. We didn't have a big goodbye when they put him in the ambulance. I thought I'd see him at the next hospital before they cathed his heart, but I didn't. My husband demanded I eat before I came to the hospital.

I waited. I called his family. My dearest friend brought me food.

I waited.


waited...tried not to look at the clock.

Told an hour, maybe two.

It was two and half hours later. I began to think something was seriously wrong when a doctor came rushing in. He started explaining things. He drew me a picture that looked like a heart a five-year-old would draw. I don't know what he said really. There was a sound at the door.

there was my husband.

Thinking about it, I can't describe it. It's too much for words. Not even a year into our marriage, I almost lost my husband, the love of my life.

We spent a couple days in the hospital. Him so grumpy that I laugh about it now. The nurses took care of us both, bringing me the most comfortable bed they could find and extra pillows.

So there you go. I needed a break from everything. I needed to wait for our positive, which we got when our beautiful daughter was born at the end of July. With her birth, she brought us a happiness that we needed on so many levels.

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