Last Tuesday night was the biggest test of faith I’ve ever had.
My caesarean was scheduled for the next morning at 10.30am, and so much prep, planning, hoping and wondering had been done for that moment. Saying there was a lot riding on it is a bit of an understatement. There are not many times in your life where you have the potential to meet and lose your daughter in the same day.
So all of Tuesday I had been getting final things organised and ready before going into hospital. There were pre-admission appointments in Greenlane, things to drop off, pick up, a bag to pack… and by the evening I was feeling pretty wasted and also hadn’t really felt any movement from the baby all day.
My blood sugars had been trailing off a bit over the previous week which can be a sign things aren’t quite right for baby, and I’d definitely noticed less movement, some days hardly any at all. When I went into hospital for the steroid injections on the Sunday night a few days before, they’d put me on the ECG monitor and assured me there was a steady heartbeat. All we’d been thinking over the last week was, come on 23rd November! How can we get this close but still have the possibility of it all ending at any moment?
Once the commotion of Tuesday was out the way, I laid flat and drank multiple glasses of ice water in an effort to shock baby into giving a kick… but no such luck. I prodded my tummy. Tried hot drinks instead. Should I freak out and get myself to hospital now instead of waiting till the morning? I don’t want to be that panicky person overthinking my symptoms. Lord, surely it’ll be alright? You’ve got this, right?
I crawled into bed at midnight ready to get to hospital at 8.30 the next morning. But there was very little sleep to be had – for either Russell or myself. Tomorrow was probably the biggest day of our lives. We had multiple conversations in bed about whether to drive to the hospital right then and there. And I have never prayed so fervently and directly in all my life as that night. Be still… be still… but how?! At what point do I ditch just trusting you to look after the situation and get myself into hospital and reassured all is ok? All I wanted was a movement, some reassurance that things were ok. And that’s exactly what I prayed for. After an hour or so of fitful sleep I finally felt baby hiccupping at 4am.
You cannot believe what a feeling of relief that was. And I finally went to sleep reassured we were almost there. She kicked a couple of times that morning, and we were on our way…
I will write again soon about the day Nina was born and the time we had with her… but this week we’re all feeling pretty physically and emotionally wrung out!