Part 13
Wake Up Call
Beneath heavy eyelids, the
hazy room slowly came into focus. I was so groggy I was seeing
double of everything and everyone but my baby. Where was my baby?
Where on earth was I?
I saw Mom and Dad first,
close together, their shadowy faces etched in worry. Mom? You look
like you've been crying. You never cry. Oh God, what's happened?
Where is my baby?
It was then that they looked
up and saw my eyes opened and I saw the relief flood their faces. I
saw Todd, my husband's best friend and the godfather of my new baby
and he wasn't his normal joke-cracking self. Finally, I saw Ian.
I managed to croak out a
weak, “What happened, Ian?”
“There was a problem but
it's been taken care of, “ my husband said.
“I don't understand. What
problem? What are you not telling me? Did I have surgery? What did
they need to do surgery for? And where is Tommy?” my questions
assaulting the quiet of the room.
The pitch of my voice was
getting higher with panic. I was imagining the worst possibilities
and the fact that no one was very forthcoming with answers was
leading me to believe my fears were true. Dear Lord, I thought,
please don't let them have done a hysterectomy. Inside, I was
screaming for answers but my voice sounded faint.
“Ian, tell me what
happened!”
“We'll talk about it
later. You need to rest now, little one.”
He was talking to me like I
was a child.
“No, you need to tell me
now. I can't rest until I know.”
He brushed my hair off my
forehead with his fingers and leaned in close to me with a pained
look. “No more babies, little one.”
I began to cry.
“They did a hysterectomy?”
I asked through my tears.
“No, baby. They didn't do
a hysterectomy.”
My mom leaned to explain.
“Honey, the doctor says
it's just too dangerous for you to have another baby. Another
pregnancy could be fatal. I'm so sorry.”
I still didn't comprehend.
The doctor approached me.
“Tanya, I'd like to give
you a shot of estrogen to help stop your bleeding. It will also help
your uterus to heal without as much scarring. The only downside is
that you won't be able to breastfeed.”
I had been looking forward
to nursing my baby since my breasts had begun to swell. I had even
dreamt about it. I knew how important nursing was in bonding and we
had already been separated for several hours since his birth while I
was in surgery.
“Do I have to get the
shot?”
“It's entirely up to you.”
replied Dr. Smith.
“I don't want it, sir.”
I looked up at Ian and asked
if he was okay with that.
He said he was okay as long
as I was.
I was thinking to myself
that I needed to be as grateful for this baby I had been allowed to
give birth to. He was what we had been waiting for all these months.
All I wanted was to hold him.
Finally, everyone but Ian
filtered out and I was taken to my room. Everyone kept trying to get
me to fall asleep but I demanded to see my son.
Ian left to get the baby
from the nursery.
The moment that tiny
creature was placed in my arms, I was one hundred percent, over the
moon, head over heels in love. I felt so guilty that he had spent
the first several hours of his life with strangers in a bright
nursery. I never wanted to let him go.
It was time to nurse.
Tommy had other ideas.
I went through three nurses
and two lactation consultants and he only latched on once. I had two
IV's full of strong antibiotics and who knows what else and I was
convinced my colostrum must have tasted awful. After his first eager
taste, he scrunched up his face and began to scream. (After a week of
trying and constant crying-from both of us-we gave up on nursing and
I pumped my milk for a month into a bottle which he had no problem
taking.)
That first night in the
hospital, I barely slept. I kept trying to feed my son but my
efforts continually failed and the nursery gave him supplemental
nourishment. By the next morning, I couldn't keep my eyes open. I
had decided to have the baby room-in with me but Ian insisted that
night that I needed to sleep or I wouldn't be any good to the baby.
He took the baby to the nursery and the nurse slipped something into
my IV.
I woke up, crying, to
darkness and Ian's voice replaying in my mind “no more babies,
little one. No more babies.”
One of the things that had
gotten me through this difficult pregnancy was the thought that maybe
next time it wouldn't be so bad.
I had spent so much of the
last eight and a half months miserable with vomitting and back aches
and heartburn and sciatic nerve pain that I'd been so ready for the
baby to hurry up and be born. Now, he was here and I was never going
to feel another baby moving inside of me. I would never have the
chance to try and enjoy another pregnancy.
I began to sob
uncontrollably.
Ian woke up from the tiny
uncomfortable chair wedged in the corner of the small room.
“What's the matter cutie?”
he asked attentively.
“I should have tried to
enjoy this pregnancy more. Why didn't I try to enjoy it more? I'm
never going to have another baby. My body is still defective! Our
boy will never have a brother or sister. He's going to miss out on
so much because of me and this stupid body of mine! I can't even
nurse him! What kind of mother am I?” I blubbered.
I knew I was being self
centered and that my hormone levels were going crazy and everything,
literally, EVERYTHING, made me cry. The thought that my baby wouldn't
nurse and I'd never have a chance to try again with another baby
somewhere down the road was too much for me at that moment. I felt as
though all my choices had been taken away.
Then they brought Tommy in and I held him close as I thought, “You
are the only child I need. You are HERE and I will never let you
think you aren't enough for me or anyone else.”
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