Hump Day

Today is a Wednesday, which would usually mean “hump day,” or half way through the work week. On a typical day, I would be at the office, finishing up my last project for the day before heading to the gym and then home to make dinner for my husband.

The best part of my day was walking through the door and seeing my two tiny dogs. They would bark at me, begging for attention. I’d hand them each a treat and smother them with hugs. I was sure it was their favorite part of the day, as well.

Then, I would switch on a Netflix show and get started on dinner– having full conversations with my furry friends.

It has been nearly three months (85 days) since I’ve performed this ritual. 85 days since I’ve felt that pure joy.

Right now, I’m sitting in a hospital room, listening to the radio and the “action” in the hallway as nurses wheel another new mother to the operating room for a c-section. I’ve been here since April 20, more than one month. In that month, I leave my room three to four times a day for short walks. On nice days, I will ask my husband to wheel me outside for fresh air, but we cannot leave the hospital’s campus.

I feel like a prisoner.

I’m currently 31 weeks and 3 days pregnant. I’ve been diagnosed with insufficient/incompetent cervix, along with premature rupture of membranes (PPROM) and gestational diabetes. The doctors would like to get me to 34 weeks, before scheduling an induction to deliver my baby.

Since I’ve been here, I’ve seen countless women come and go. I’ve seen healthy babies wheeled past me. I’ve heard their cries coming from other rooms. As I look out the window of my room, I see relatives walking in with gifts and balloons. I see new dads, carrying all the necessities to bring their baby home and new moms who are plump, happy and ready to welcome their new ones to the world.

It takes all of my might to keep it together. All of my emotional stamina to prevent myself from breaking down. While all of this normalcy is happening around me, I feel trapped in a nightmare. It’s crippling to think that I still have to endure this for three more weeks. It’s straight out depressing to think that, after all this, I’ll have to sit back and watch my baby continue to grow in the NICU.

For any new mothers who are nearing 40 weeks or who recently delivered and brought your baby home the next day, please don’t take it for granted. Appreciate every moment, and know that you are one of the lucky ones.

In the meantime, I’ll continue to pray for the best possible outcome– as I pray for the day when I can meet my little one and, hopefully, bring her home.