#30DaysofHope Day 28 - Heather to Sarah
The only face I knew gave me hope.
The night my daughter was born, she wasn’t due for 16 more weeks. I had been at home on bedrest for 5 weeks already, counting down the days to viability. I had that day circled on my calendar far before I knew that day would be her birthday, because I was told if I could make it until 24 weeks, she would have a much better chance of survival.
I laid in bed like normal and out of nowhere, I felt a pop and a gush of blood. My husband had just arrived home with dinner and I told him, we need to go to the hospital, now. Without a lot of words between us, we put on our shoes, called the hospital to let them know we were on our way, got in the car and left. We only lived about 3 minutes from our hospital and when we arrived, my husband left the car in the emergency room pull through, got a wheelchair and pushed me up to labor and delivery, where they were waiting for us.
We went to triage, where they put me on a magnesium drip and gave me steroids, while doctor after doctor came in and had me sign forms and explained all the ways my daughter could suffer, her slim chances of survival, and what would happen if she came that night. They were not being cruel; they were laying out the facts and figures that pertained to our situation. I felt like I was going insane.
Within an hour, my doctor came into check on me, and told me matter of fact, it’s time. I said, time for what? She said, ‘it’s time for the baby to come.’ I told her matter of fact, no. No, it can’t be. I’m not ready, she’s not ready. And she said, ‘we have to.’
In this haze of confusion and magnesium, I kissed my husband goodbye as they wheeled me into the OR. The room was filled with strangers- faces of people that I now know very well- Respiratory Therapists, NICU Doctors, NICU nurses, Labor and Delivery nurses. I was starting to have a panic attack when she appeared. Sarah. A labor and delivery nurse in the hospital. An acquaintance I knew from high school, who I had seen a few times during my pregnancy, a familiar face who held my hand. She told me I would be okay. She was with me. She was the last thing I remember as they put me under general anesthesia; before they performed an emergency c-section to save my life and my babies life.
Sarah- I’ve told you before, and I will tell you again now- your presence that night was a God send. Seeing a face that I knew during those few moments calmed me and helped me in ways I can’t even begin to explain. I was facing what I thought was certain death for myself and my child; and you were there holding my hand. You were there telling me I would be all right. You might as well have been wearing angel wings. I know I’m not the first woman you’ve done that for, and I won’t be the last, but know that now and forever, you have such a special place in my heart, and a special place in my daughter’s story.