Because I hate hospitals

    Hero Hottie has been bugging me to write about my time in the hospital for a while now. I think for two reasons:
1. It is a deeply personal and upsetting time for me and writing about something that has happened to me helps me to deal with it. I suppose that's the artistic side of me. That's why I always tease people about not making me mad because then I'll make them the villain in my next story. I am just joking. A little bit. :)

2. My illness and subsequent stay in the hospital was a time of great growth and realizing just how strong I could be. And if sharing something of that magnitude can help someone else through their struggles, than it should be shared.

    But I drag my feet. It happened six long years ago. A lifetime. And I still avoid thinking about it, talking about it and writing about it. I would prefer to keep the scars nicely hidden behind a facade of normal living and pretend that I wasn't inches away from the white light. Literally.
    I think, and this is going to sound corny, but only love held me to this side of life.

    Unfortunately, I can't birth Baby Blueberry at home with a midwife. Which in my state is pretty much illegal and with having torn my placenta not the best option for me- so off to the hospital I will be going sometime in the next four weeks.

(Are we that close already? Whew, I can't believe it. And I give thanks everyday for it too. Back in April and May when I was spending hours on the couch, praying for Blueberry, I wasn't sure if I would make it this far with my heart still intact. )

But the closer I get to having to stay in the hospital, even for something as natural as birth, the more I feel long buried anxieties and fears start to stir. I have moved so far away from those long days when I thought I might die...or so I thought. Apparently, I have not moved far enough. Again, time can only soften memories, help take the sharpness off of them, dull the edges....time can't heal.

Since I'm planning a natural birth, just like with Bean and Abu...this means for some crazy reason I'm choosing to feel all the pain of childbirth. To succeed in natural childbirth, you have to admit that to yourself--you can't sugar coat it. You can't just say: 'I'm having this baby with no painkillers. Piece of cake."
   No. You have to say...aloud...I'm choosing to feel EVERYTHING.
   Why do I choose this?
One: I have a Mom with chronic pain..it never goes away. Childbirth pain does goes away.
Two: I like to be in control of my body as much as possible. Having Crohn's disease is a bitch and sometimes leaves a person without any control, so I'm not one to give any more away than I have to.

Three: I hate needles. Especially in my spine. I probably hate needles in the spine more than the pain of childbirth.



For me to feel like I can enter the hospital and do this without begging for pain relief...because trust me, I did finally break down and start to want an epidural during my last labors. The pain is just so intense but I was so close I couldn't and Hero Hottie and the nurses were wonderful in keeping me focus on the end goal.

I have to be strong emotionally. And I don't feel strong on the inside when I start to think about entering the hospital. I start to feel weepy and fearful and all the horrible memories...every single one that clouds my mind at time...slams full force into my spirit and reminds me that I almost died in that building.

I can't have THOSE memories trying to be louder than the new -wonderful- memories I will be forming of giving birth to my precious Baby Blueberry. So how to quiet them?

How to silence them? Cut them off? Will them away?

They are a huge part of who I am today, regardless of how I feel about that time. I know this is going to show my geeky/nerdy side but I'm going to relate this to a Star Trek movie. I know, forgive me but I was raised on Hamburger Helper, bologna sandwiches and reruns of Star Trek.

In either the fifth or sixth movie, the bad guy is offering to 'erase' the painful memories of the main cast members. Offering them a life without all that emotional baggage. How tempting. How peaceful. But of course, Captain James T Kirk, our hero, refuses such a thing, even though is past is littered with painful memories. Why? Simply because he wouldn't be the person he is without those memories.

Would I ever repeat my stay at the hospital? Hell, no. I'm not crazy. But did I learn from it. Yes. Is it a part of me? Absolutely, without question. Even my writing is better because of it. My relationships. My understanding of what is important in life.

But it does still have a hold over me. Yes, and that's what I need to finally let go of. So when I enter the hospital in the next few weeks, I'm not dwelling on the horrible but I can concentrate on bringing this new, unexpected little person into my life.

So hopefully I don't bore my readers too much with such serious posts over the next weeks. And I hope you don't mind me being so personal. And I do hope that you find a positive message out of it.
And I promise I won't use anymore Star Trek analogs either. But I can't promise I won't drag something else equally nerdy or geeky into the mix.

Day Twelve- Always There

  Years ago I wrote a bit of faith on a scrap of paper, never quite sure what to do with it. It wasn't about me or anyone I knew but it spoke to me. I will share it with you today.

   Always There

by Christy Hammond

    

She sat on the church pew wondering why she was there, when a man passed and she dropped her head in prayer.

            “Where are you, when I need you so? Look what has happened, you have abandoned me here, am I to give birth with no one that cares?”

            She wept on the wood, silent tears of grief, when the same man who had passed came and stood by her bare feet.

            He didn’t say a word, and she wished him to leave, hiding her dirty toes underneath the seat. She kept her head bowed, her hands clasped together, and still he did not moved but continued to linger.

            “Go away,” she muttered, finally at last, her soiled fingers fanning across her swollen belly.

            The silence grew long, and the man did not shuffle, and finally she could not keep her head down any longer. She raised it up, and gasped.

            “You asked me here, so don’t send me away. I thought you needed me, but even if you don’t, I will still stay.” The man spoke gently, holding out a hand.

            She felt ashamed, her hands all dirty, but he did not care as he held them firmly. He helped her from her seat, her body heavy with the tiny person she had made.

            “I will be there, please do not worry. I will be there for you and your baby.” The man walked her to the door, that lead out of the chapel, and waited while she looked at the rest of the hospital.

            She looked at him with fearful eyes, and then wondered why she had doubted. Of course, he would be there at her side. Waiting with her, for her new arrival. She clutched her belly, with the wave of pain and knew she needed to find a doctor.

            “It will be alright, go now, your child awaits.” The man leaned forward, and kissed her head, not caring of the dirt, and oil, and smell that clung to her skin.

            She stepped and turned away, knowing that he was going to be there, with her, through the whole thing.

            And after her baby was born, and slept so soundly. She slipped to the chapel, with her sore body. Her mind was tired, she could hardly think, but she whispered some prayers, and gave him thanks.