Hospital Experiences

Today is my 66th consecutive day of laying in bed. And I have spent 23 of those days in the hospital. You have all sorts of different kinds of experiences in the hospital than when you are living in the outside world. During an extended stay in the maternity ward, you hear lots and lots of screaming. It is a strange thing to hear another woman screaming in the throws of labor pains. And you'd think that I would get used to it after 23 days of it. But I haven't. The screaming doesn't make me feel dread or fear. But I feel uncomfortable listening to something so intimate and private as birth. It is a feeling akin to when you hear two people in bed. It made me wonder if I did that when I deliver. John told me I don't yell, but I swear like a sailor. Funny, that somehow doesn't surprise me at all.

Sometimes you find yourself sharing experiences with strangers that are exceedingly triste. These experiences aren't your everyday interaction with strangers. One day I ended up crying with a family who had lost their child; I made them a card and gave them our contact info for support, but a card from me seems so pale and insignificant next to the hurt they were feeling. And I have seen tears streaming down other peoples faces - leaving me to assume the worst.

But there is plenty of laughter in the hospital too. Perhaps the most has come from an evening of wheelchair racing with Megan. I am only aloud to leave the ward with a "reasonable" adult - no joke, it says "reasonable" in my file. But Megan had them fooled and she wheeled me down to the front door of the hospital late one evening. There are about 100 chairs there for general use, but Megan was a tad nervous about taking one. I promised it wasn't a big deal, and so we found two that vaguely fit us. (Believe it or not, there was even a huge one; it must have been a double wide.) Very serenely, we wheeled past security, whistling and looking all innocent. And then we headed to the long corridor over by the doctors offices. Now mind you, I think if I had a Gatorade in my fist and sweatbands around my wrists and forehead, I would stand a chance. But no. I pretty much stink at using a wheelchair. I got creamed not once, not twice but three times! Much to my embarrassment the third time, I even had a handicap. So mortifying. We have a rematch scheduled for this evening, but I still have no sweatbands or Gatorade so I fear my future is doomed.

There are sweet experiences with some of the children in my life, too. Seth made me a spectacular banner with trucks down it's length. Cora made me a great card with her name (which she wrote herself) and lots of glitter. I received Secret Garden from a friends daughter. She had recently read it, loved it, and thought I might too. And I got a beautiful card from another friends daughter, complete with pictures of a "bango", a quilt with blank blocks for me to color, and a crying baby Darren - crying because he was just born. And another child brought me a pine cone to sniff since I haven't been outside in some time. What amazes me is their sense of compassion with no inkling of obligation.

Some things are actually exciting. I think now that I am nearing 30 weeks, I am finally starting to think this pregnancy will end with life and smiles and joy. I am finally starting feel excited. Yesterday's ultrasound confirmed that my cervix is holding steady! And I was able to have a 3D ultrasound image done. I think Darren looked like Cora, but John was unsure. It is exciting just to wait and see.